Check out the following link for my published work. Thanks to the team at Spillwords.
I know I have disappeared from my favorite place but please hang on. I am going through a hell off late.
What does this speak to you?
my lament and a burning tongue
a swamp so full of oiled waters
I have an eye of the tiger
a frivolous running star
and often I sink in the void of blank noon.
They ask me how do I look
when I smile and giggle.
a silk saree well pleated and insane maybe.
I walk in the blazing red zone now,
I am scrupulous little statue of pale city.
I often smile,
I often glorify.
Check your thermometer now,
am I breathing still?
Is life still circulating around my small feet?
Check again, you.
A life sucks dream of one’s mind
and shove it into the loop of insanity.
My recent poems published on two drops of ink.
All these years, I have known the distinctive pleasure
How it rotates it’s straw beneath my tender tongue.
The diaphragm splintering.
and blooming into a void of silence.
Days gone by,
Soiled and fractured bones.
I hear a sudden twitch of my collarbone,
A stubborn slap of liquid clock,
Abandoning this body of goddess.
How does one become a mannequin?
One simply stares and blinks,
the vacancy of emptiness.
Twirling with frills of lunacy,
Hot& porcelain pain.
A feverish stare
Of orange stomach into the sky of violet detachment.
And you become a terrible word in the sky.
A terrible, terrible wound.
counting hours for the doctor’s rush.
Loneliness does that to you,
It seeks a shade into your darkness,
Ladders of ambiguous scars.
A blind engulfed comfort.
Check out my latest poem here on tasthermind.com.
NaPoWriMo#30, prompt- A minimalistic poem
what is that throbbing between my cheeks?
a poetry fallen so perfectly.
a hue of colors.
Quiet, quiet, quiet,
it delivers spring and autumn,
a convex point of life and death,
slipping between my things now.
listen to it,
a wound of loss.
a gratitude of survival,
it’s the conversation happening between poetry and my nude body.
A life of ink stained walls,
residing, dying along with my eyelids.
For more poetry check out my insta handle @my.valiant.soul
Change my atoms of body.
make a sin out of this floating skin.
A lotus. Inhale my vapours like a sun kissed windowsill.
A slice of moon sits on my neck watching your toes circling my platonic waist.
a waist that hold your liquids, your solids.
A moment of sigh and resemblance.
Make me your thread of conjectures of dreams and skins.
a poets habitual routine.
Slit my thigh, a green antena.
suck my thoughts, a spiritual dot.
a map depicts your mind, soft and beautiful, here.
Details emerge as a florescent green bush,
beneath my thumb of silver weeps.
Sip my thoughts. Decorate. Redraw my body.
Hold my toenail. Be careful.
Be careful, I might slip like a fallen star.
NaPoWriMo # 16