The end of a lullaby

the shriek of my body, a purple loose hanging moon beneath the toes- a shriek so wild stretches through the carcass I have nothing left to weep now for the moon has taken a dip inside the river. I hear my village burning, and see people sleeping so quietly, so wildly as if nothing ever…

Pink evenings and low days

The bars are white soapy mouth The sky is an unforgettable moment. I take out my paper and mention my gratitude list- I mention         breath onion       Ketchup broccoli      Sylvia rosemary       Pauses   The sun kisses my toes by the daytime slushing, suitcases and winter games. I write too many sad poems, I know. I write too…

The white haze

They talk about everything so coarse and grainy- but not my mouth, empty and cold. Lukewarm particles of mother’s voice floating White/ blue/ grey-  I see shades of attachment and delirium. Together, through a visceral bone, Skins aglow- white talcum powder all distorted. My dressing table is a desert. A pause. Concrete and blind sun.…

The Old Body-

with chained ankles, hush, thrilling lips, a body floats inside my mind, dwindling through the carcass, old and vintage- a mahogany river of crooked moonlight, this body blooms and sinks at the same time, uttering a blob of big sun-shaped tongue emerging out, emerging through the stains and walls through veins and puddles. this time…

Through the voices.

She is a small islandA voiceless twig to flutterA crecent of moon dropped from beneath- the body is resourcefulspun into a river.Now I am silent as I watch my windowwith angular toes amd facebirds so small and distant, That is that. That is that.Bones awaiting the hours to fly by,And here people like light rays…

A cluster of bones

Visceral bonesthrushthrush.Tongue of birdsA cluster of sunshine.Moles of heaviness on my cheeksI have not been sleeping anymore.How can I?I see black moths in my dreamsI am too cood now,Watery tongues,flattened bones of evening.Knock knockA thunder to sip and watch.Gaps are collected on my knuckles.I need R. E. S. T.A rest as blue pregnant sky.

A new poem published

I have a poem published on The Hyderabad Review. Please do let me know if you read it. Many thanks to the beautiful journal. Love Devika

The existence of an unknown-

Finger’s spread through walls licking the green fear a moist mayhem spreading onto my chest chewing the dead society people give names to my existence a continous dreary process I feel oblong and circular shouts rummaging through the ceiling fire in my neck, movements occur as pulse during the time curtain of this thought who…

Gulmohar, When it Rains

Originally posted on The Woman Inc.:
By Devika Mathur The shades of skin- glowing like April morningsa soft warm tone of Gulmohar tree upon my eyelids-a doorway to oceans, two pebble eyesOpen in the open skyThis tree a meteor of clouds to my mindto remind me of Earth, soil and home. Rains: a thunder of…

Autumn Lovers

the yellow stark trees smiling through the purple grass with a nocturnal tether to hold us US- a portrait of clay and dust full of small longings, growing and congregations bending Late autumn, and at night, we melt- melting through skins and teeth through fever and blossoms- We speak of ripped earth and a few…

A poem from – Crimson Skins.

Sharing this close poem of mine from my book. To get a copy – Amazon US Pothi- India

I need some love and support.

I am writing after a long time . As I was having a rough time with my life, life patterns etc and in the process I stopped writing almost everywhere. Even the acceptance letters from great magazines did boost up my mood but it did not stay for a long duration and hence I was…

Metamorphosis

My body underneath

You- a nectar of the moon,gliding through the gleaming sheets of orange moansatop my waistthat slips through your feetand a long stare-a reverie of blooming seasonshorizontal touches of galaxy,A walnut cracks open, a fidget through the bones a sweet summer song- soil, soil,soil I see raindrops through my belly, now-a grasshopper twirling through the toesyou-…

Hear my Podcast episode-as I talk about creativity.

Dear Readers, Hear me talk to the adventurous soul Petra on the recent episode for her Podcast that she calls “Erratic Hat Podcast”. I talk about creativity, the writing process and about publishing process etc. You can check out the podcast and her blog here. Also, I have changed my newsletter title now- it is…

The first issue of – All Ears is out now!

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…