As I write this, I am reminded of all the wonderful poetry,prose that I have been reading for All Ears– An ezine for youth which has been edited by me along with five other editors. With an eye of an editor, it is never an easy task to analyse any piece but with the collective effort I am more than happy to present before you our first issue- You can download it here and enjoy it for free. The inaugral issue is filled with some brilliant artwork, poetry,prose etc. I hope you all shall enjoy and consider it for future submissions.:)
the rivers that speak of us,
nectars of jasmine and hibiscus-
a lady from photograph,
biting a strange loneliness sitting onto her bosom
a strange memory of distilled longings-
a lady that sulks and pronounce everything watery,
dreams of wildfire and river-beds
I travel through her caricature,
her oblong drifting fingers,
eyes of pain and despair-
eyes- a mirage of limbs too,
I watch her and think of this pregnant sky
day and night.
She- a soliloquy od soft pastel dreams.
Read the newest newsletter here-
As you all are aware I run a monthly newsletter which I started last year to celebrate my daily chores, hurdles, art, poetry, music and things related to mindfulness, I am now blessed to have more than 150 readers as I would like to say.
In order to break the monotony, I need a little help. I am looking out for some artwork, essay, poetry and things so that can go well with my newsletter. If you are interested please contact with your work on the email email@example.com If you wish to submit a short essay make sure to write anything related to productivity/mindfulness/nature watching or anything that goes well with the newsletter.
You can read my past issues by checking out the link-
My days are cryptic
with mellow songs
sunflowers pressed on my bosom,
on my chest.
My days are usually full of lies and loneliness
with a wildflower travelling through my veins,
Where a mind refuses to sleep,
a haunted manor of poetry painted carpets
a garden of lover’s daydream
At sunsets I visit temples,
where my sins could fade away a little
along with the leaves of my hope
along with the tree that grew along with me.
I sometimes wish to marry that tree of hope,
the one that nurtured the oblivious lips of dull moon,
filling it with moonflowers
filling with hanging creases of paper lanterns,
a fading memory wilt often.
Where my body trembles like a low music,
a sister’s ritual of love affairs:
I am not sure what do I long the most
the memories or the moments?
Please checkout my collection- Crimson Skins now on Amazon, Pothi and kindle. It will mean a lot to me.
Crimson skins – USCrimson Skins- POTHI