Hello dear readers,
I have no clue how to begin this but I definitely feel sad to see how people on this lovely community are showing lack of interaction on my blog. I understand, how I was not always there to read all your lovely posts as I was caught up in the releasing/ promoting procedure of my poetry book.
But I dont want my bond with my valuable readers to die out. I have invested my love on this platform through my poetry.
Please let me know if I can catch up with your recent works as well. I truly care about this blog, our community, our love for writing.
(In case you wish to read my book-Crimson Skins, you can check out Amazon and bookswagon.)
i guess, at times i walk on the waters,
the ebb, a reminder of my narrow chin.
i have a thing for kissing life.
and i do it precisely well.
i kiss and drink the sweetness,
the stars and the sound of the bells.
i metamorph into a syllabus of a veritable smirk.
dreams hold my mouth and put me back to sleep until i am awake like colours,
vibrant and throbbing a dark spot.
at times, i become seasons,
my body, a criss-cross of lanterns.
it’s small and beautiful.
And that’s how i inhale smoke,
my voice tore away like sunsets falling into the rivers.
streams of gushing ripples on my cheeks.
there was a time once,
when poetry was all Mediterranean Sea to me,
with potholes and hammers,
squirming noises of silence.
The semesters of trimmed life makes me a moon,
a person in illusion,
a mirage rising inside the languid skin.
I am nocturnal today, like roses building up on my arms
speaking language of Gods. The air is turgescent, dripping lust for words. lust for my beauty. I walk on the arch of windowsills with blue loops of eyes, tingling some sensation. Something unheard before. A voice of metaphors dissolving into my pharynx with lids open. To fly. To breathe.
I curl my lips like romancing with my poetry. With silence dancing on my bosom, sneezing and holding time. Swallowing my body. Words, a conjunction of sanity.
Rhythms and molten patterns of pain and loss. Acceptance and free breath.
I look towards the path of Equinox. Voices speaking untamed fire.
Fire and ice. Ice and pure breaths.
© Image and words MVS
P.s- Also I completed my 2 year anniversary on WP. How amazing is that! Though I did delete my blog once in this span, still I am grateful to this community and my readers.
This vintage arm
is like a faded memory
of streaming hope
the greys and the reds
a turbid of morbid dreams,
Scars slid, dancing,
they seem happy.
Scars are my baby now
my hallucinating body of madness.
pain is my adamant bowl of Ganges.
slipping between fingers of sickle.
Moist, melting inside somewhere
scars, you make me beautiful.
©Image and words MVS
your slurpy mouth holds magic
to sediment a stoic seed
of silence, like silence.
calm shades governing,
a tip-toed saliva of blank eyes,
a life kissing a life.
behind your earlobe,
the sky falls,
in tunes of carbon
thick slices of carbon.
coal romances with fire,
life exists everwhere.
a birthmark & a taboo
i am a lavish smile of smirk
you incubated me & my head
with soils of murder and hatred
sins of monster & coal of coals.
to kiss your dark soul
i swim like a starfish,
concurrent currents floating
inside my solitary knee-bone
see it, feel it, sniff it
chop it. chop it. chop it
it Shall again appear with
half sun and half moon rays.
like a starfish singing,
unveiling the balmy metaphors
crooked though plumbed
in your anxious fingers of blood
in your anxious mouth of dirt.
https://visualverse.org/submissions/beneath-the-shell/ Link to my latest work.
I must say that this time the picture demanded something more raw and constructive. It took me some time to write this one but glad I am to see my verse in Visual Verse and also the other amazing writings. Do check it out.
Tonight, I shall smirk and produce cactus in my bones. Reverberating your conjured beds exhausted me. Tonight I shall not be a bean of pelican feathers, a china crockery. With the burial of your carbon mouth, I burn till the sky thumps. And then you shall explode the way I did.
Your clandestine face is like a green moth today. Pulverizing. Torrential.
The language of lonesome affairs strikes and burns my ginger thigh, moisture resides, phosphorescent sigh.
Scream and watch that burning sky. Swallow the eclipse. Revolve and rotate like wild sharks. A stack of lipids and liquids shall only entice you. You leap and crawl. Your skin is that of marine molluscs, fidgeting, concealing.
Tonight, I refuse to entertain you.
The burning wax is still my favourite companion.
®My Valiant Soul