attest the pain
sink into the lake of grief
watch and convulse,
the blue oblong face of emotions-
it disappoints me each day,
you and your flattery
my small body,
small, petite chin
that thrusts no life anymore.
Watch a face again,
think about it,
the slippery texture
grains allover the body
blurred, overgown opinions
I am sad flower today, trying to be the moon
but the moon is always sad,
I tell myself to watch the moving crowd
to feel the concrete tree
and the still landscape of stagnancy exists
a pill of loss and convulsions all day long.
I have a book- Crimson skins. Read it if still you have not. on kindle, pothi etc.
I am happy to announce I have a poem in this beautiful anthology-
Reading a poem:
Chop, turn and locate.
Stir the dust and sniff the page
No, do not gulp right now.
Halt and watch the words
flossing amidst the golden page
there, a wire of tangent imageries,
a sharp tooth that slurps the pain
wiping faded things,
blossoming into a new Earth-
No, do not stop!
A word you mis-spelled,
just like the rotten limbs of yours
a field of moth & moss,
scratch the page, prick the word again
now scratch your face & swollen head
Think. Think. Think.
It roams and gossips a false hiccup
a false person into your thinking
But it does not make sense yet, as is this poem to you.
An empty hallway
a barren seed and faces of pale glamour.
So how do you read a poem now?
Do you make love to it
or watch it getting naked
moist as a Sunset charm?
I suggest you chop, turn and locate this poem.
Scissors often draw a diagram On my cold slender hands, A light peeks in, as if to tell something new. A light A hope. A hiccup that stops another hiccup. This light, a soft tune to my ears. What do I consider this art of life? A hummus stain on my sequin dress. A quiet noise, inside my vase body. It's interruption. If a thing dies, let it be. Let the hand sink. Let the light go. Let things go. Get my book here- Crimson Skins
I am writing this post to express my gratitude to all those who recently bought a copy of my book ‘Crimson Skins‘ and left such heartfelt messages, emails etc about the impact of my book. My poetry collection was written during the more coarse phase of my life and I am glad, you all loved it.
It’s a request if you have read it please leave a review on amazon/ goodreads as it helps indie authors like us.
“she entraps the sky in her fingernails” (A goddess)– (From my collection.)
You can buy your copies here-
Crimson skins- US