I hear a quiet shout,
screeching under my eyes-
How long do I float, anonymously?
to declare is what I want-
space and time
stars and grass,
look at my one hand,
the one that stares you-
curvatures of my body= lotus.
Lotus that spews water from its body again and again.
Call it life. Give it a name-
Air, will you be a space to my existence?
Water- will you sing songs to my graveyard?
Fire, burn along. Do not resist anything further.
This day inhales "me" in the most blasphemous way.
I do it through a circular band on forehead.
I soak everything like a sponge.
Watering lilies and eating oatmeal.
Please be mine- You, the ferocious 'eye'.
Apply a cold balm all through my body- know my persistence of time
and know what I mean.
-----------------
To read my book-
Crimson Skins- India
Crimson Skins- US
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it has been an year since my book published and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
sharing links-
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
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 am I?
A passage or a full stop-
a dreamlike stay
a touch
a vapour
mud..earth..mud..earth.
The mind stays softer, mine
like sweaters in summers,
fresh tangerine juice.
Who am I?
-----------------------------------------------
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it has been an year since my book published and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
sharing links-
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
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 things more.
Autumn, a kiss of lovers.
-------------------------------------------------
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it has been an year since my book published and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
sharing links-
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
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 always feeling almost numb and lost.
Meanwhile, I am writing this to ask a favour- as you all know I have a published book Crimson Skins” published last year, I need to keep it working too! I need your support. Please share, get a copy or just share this post if you can’t get a copy of my poetry bok. I have worked really hard for that one and it took almost 3 years to make through the entire publication process. If you love my surrealistic style, work, please consider getting a copy.
A kind friend of mine has something to say about the book-
Crimson Skins has a variety of work any reader will enjoy. The book isn’t basic and will be able to go the extra mile for years to come. I will be so bold as to say many of the pieces featured in it has the staying power of words by a few greats such as Sylvia Plath, Adrienne Rich, and Virginia Woolf. It ends just as it began, with an intense piece of writing showcasing the writer’s talent
You- a nectar of the moon, gliding through the gleaming sheets of orange moans atop my waist that slips through your feet and a long stare- a reverie of blooming seasons horizontal 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 toes you- a carrier of everything that my eyes sews my body that wraps underneath.
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it has been an year since my book published and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
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 called – “The Weekly Shine“- Try reading the newsletter archive here and if you don’t like you don’t subscribe, it’s that easy!
I curate classic poetry, mindful activities, artwork all that for free.
the rivers that speak of us,
warmer bodies
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-
https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
Longings
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.
Somehow
Somewhere
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
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.)
If I could, I would evaporate through your mouth a doorawy to dreams and tiny dots- wild mushrooms dancing atop our bodies as if we have trapped the moon in our eyelids- eyelids that do not utter a word, flowers on terrace, static noises we scratch water with nails, dirt on our palms to know the film of our memory floating in the lake through breasts, heaviness and Autumn that still looks upon us and smile. smile to see us vacant and full, altogether. An awakening of God's music temple bells- gongs negating everything else/ but this stays this blooms.
The collarbone cracks open,
a petal of your name,
a thick cloud of lust
sounds that speak only of splitted grass
I see you
and I think oh 'home'
honey-suckled touch,
tongues:
tongues interwined into sheets of desire
of lukewarm, misted talks
about us and hopes to stay.
It is Summer now,
a season of orange hope,
golden grass grinning through the wind.
It is Summer.
I am inhabitated by the scent of it
that twirls my skin and turn it into faces of love.
I am a Summer-myself
bleeding through my cold sphere
daylight:
water on my toes
a gossip you all want to hear.
I am Summer for you-
for you to cling onto
for you to breathe the scent.
I am stoked to announce that recently Indie Blu(e) Published its another beautiful anthology Through the Looking Glass– which includes my poem about Mental Health as the theme was the same. I urge you all to check out the same here .
Have you read Crimson Skins yet?
If not please check it out on Kindke, Pothi, Amazon etc.
Hi, Welcome to my poetry world yet again. I guess we all have no better solution rather than staying positive and hopeful. I am glad to feel this positive vibe yet again after all that India has been through and is still dealing. I am trying to do as much as I can and that includes taking care of my mental health as well.
Sharing a poem. Let me know your views and in general how life has been treating you all?:)
And maybe this shall never end-
Here, I rest my palms along with the stars,
honey-suckled,
twigs of sunsets
hoping for tree of wishes
a spoon of lukewarm winters
which sits beside my small mind
a roar of summer breeze,
producing so much that only my heart can see,
and maybe this shall never end-
yet I long for coral sweaters,
grass
attachment layered sky
above and below-
the dreamcatchers
in the grainy rain.
Our mouths unravelling
and spitting a tongue of hibiscus growing
scrubbing:
scrubbing all the sins away
lights spinning- gold,
poppies in a bathtub
and leaves fluttering across our bodies-
we want this,
a human touch
a human being, indeed.
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it is soon going to be an year for my book and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
The sniff lingers between the hills and the mountain a sniff to overcome a dismay, a snippet of a saint through the threads of fragile life. Jasmine- a floral drop of snow now between my knuckles, rubbing against my pillow a cry for dreams, a lotus shaped prayer. Jasmine- a quiet nostalgic hope, prayers about fairies and daydreams, The sun and the waters, echoing wool of the sunburn. The sniff- my mother's voice an elastic memory of tales and despair.
Hi, Thankyou for sending your prayers through my last poem. I am reading poetry again and getting to Art as it keeps me going.
I am coming back to my writing my poems after a while a lot changed during these times. (Pandemic- second wave) My yellow tree remained un-watered all this while, humans burnt, relatives, families submerged with tears/ fears see my poem has started to rhyme, even. Keep on reading you will sense no sensibility a bunch of lost flowers now archaic, frenzied- razor sharp like tongue of cries bodies once warm now muted, cold, without a twin flame. the situation has become small and painful like a setting sun, only that it is not beautiful.
MY VALIANT SOUL 
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