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.
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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
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Tag Archives: crimsonskins
Arbitration-
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
To my readers- thank you
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.)
You can buy your copies here-
Crimson skins- US
thankyou.
The Awakening-
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.
---------------------
Please checkout my collection- Crimson Skins now on Amazon, Pothi and kindle. It will mean a lot to me.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
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The sad picture-
It’s about us. Our static atmosphere which keeps changing its dimension. Through the clandestine mouths of river and a dark cloud. At times, there is nothing but a tainted shadow our love growing a thick layer of fungus. We grow, anyway.
We grow and talk about the leftover meals, the swollen flowers of our garden, everything falling apart. Hush! We do not speak of the silence that lingers our throat sitting like a huge wound on our chest. The sad, forlorn shackles of stark grief. What goes beyond is treacherous, as if. A landscape dipped in the shades of sunsets and piquant feelings, a leaf coiling into a serpent. A flower wilting into a moth, things happen, just like that.
The screams are a reflection of an unslept sky. The dying women in neighbours. The abhorrence that is a moisture to the nature. Nature- it often mocks our grilled love and considers it a green fever. We grow anyway. We grow through the carcass, a catastrophe of splitted existence. Through kitchen sinks, chairs and through people, we grow like melted wax. A sharp body shedding its skin through and through.
Please checkout my collection- Crimson Skins now on Amazon, Pothi and kindle. It will mean a lot to me.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
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Summer-
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.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
a thing of loss
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.
interview with Pooja
I am delighted to announce that recently I was a part of an interview done by Pooja of Lifesfinewhine. We discussed a few aspects of Art in a short, crisp way. Head over to her blog to read my interview and all the lovely things she writes there and do show your love to all her blog posts.
thankyou for reading my poetry!
Love
Stillness
the voice cracks in the summer sun I hear things falling apart underneath my door knob behind the cobweb- almost gone now i hear things decaying, distorted as the morning yawn the leaves so parched the sun , cold and warm there is a music that stops playing as i write this the music that speaks about fallen dreams, listless curvature of atmosphere. stillness is what i observe 'stillness in my body, my toes and lips the earth so happy and warm now almost like a cerulean sadness torn into threads of bruises into diverse sects of lemon dried faces. the hands so small and white with my bosom hanging restlessly on the table. there are things so peculiar occurring everywhere. restless yet a still monochrome pattern of life
Hi, Do check out my published book, available on Kindle also. Let me know what you think of this one?
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
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We need to have something to hold on
I have thought of inculcating a better routine for this month now. I am happy to have my poems accepted in a few magazines as I thought would be doing for the month of March and I am not writing much. So, it’s okay actually! So, each month I would sit along with my journal writing my morning goals and long term goals and then I would bifurcate it into various aspects like mental, physical etc..and so far I have accomplished a few of my monthly goals. This process helps me to clear out any junk in my head and I stay more focused and perform better in all aesthetic aspects.
Apart from this I practice morning pages in which I would jot down all the random thoughts without caring about the handwriting etc but it’s mainly about a clarity in the though process which is too imperative, I believe. Reading the book “The Untethered Soul” was one of the best books that I read last year. The book reading happened while I was in the process of writing my book Crimson Skins and reading such a mindful book gave me such a vivid imagery of what I need to work upon if I want to heal from inside.
What are your opinions about a healthy lifestyle impacting one’s future? Share your routine in comments, maybe?:)
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Love and light
Devika
To the woman- who knows it all
The other day I thought of writing a poetry about healing
About self- love, growth
Nonsense.
My tone is still abrupt, crooked, melancholic
Orange like the winter sun
My hands are yet pale.
Yellow as the home cooked oil,
The other day I thought of writing
about memories that soothe me
Motionless.
About the barren walks
Only to find how my head still bleeds
The mind that has empty grass,
Wild flowers not beautiful my friend,
Everything wild is not beautiful
for things need a foundation too.
Everything I know is rust
Everything I know is blue rain,
Forgotten like the rains so beautiful
Forgotten like the winter chills in the Summer.
Healing is a slow process
Coiling into a watery prayer.
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
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A concern to self-
And there is almost nothing but this silence
with which I caress my pallid numb thoughts
mud stained- inner knuckles,
fingernails growing all small and ugly
and not just that,
but I sleep with my dirty longings as well.
Bed of misery beneath the flesh of tongue.
Endless field of dark fragmented hopes/
You name it.
I wonder if this will be the season of spring inside my dreary grassland
Of beautiful spring flowers
things that resonate with the Earth, the moon and the stars.
Will it be a hiccup or a lost prayer?
———————————————————————————-
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
The body
The flesh is incoherent
the nuance of this body is sand
all things that sit inside my bones, tremble
like sounds unheard,
from the Indian mountains it begins to crack
piece by piece
as if it is the wail of time
as if there is no neck to this body.
Humans- all that they love, sinks beneath,
somewhere.
And my eyes become wrinkled pomegranate seeds
awash beside the uprooted trees of misery.
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
If I could- a poem from my book ‘Crimson Skins’
If I could
I would elope with my insanity
with a lavender bud blooming inside
my cheek.
I write mad things
drawing the turbid face of a blue lady
as if she has no blood vessels.
Breathless.
Slow.
Melting.
Twirling in my skirt skirts,
twirling along the locus.
My breaths inflate this entire galaxy.
like an elastic stuck to the tongue,
this tongue that is motionless too.
If I could, I would sink in an ephemeral elegy
denying the neon green hope.
A snivel of moist grass.
A question of reality.
I will smirk & dance
and clap & clap.
A century of feeble screams suppressed under
my soft skin.
This madness makes me complete; I say so.
A sea of voice hidden under my curves.
I carry so many of you
here & there.
If I could,
I would melt along with you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Find attached all the links to get your own copy. AVAILABLE ON KINDLE.
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
Yellow- a poem
Yellow – scratched and heavy
an unknown desire to melt between the stasis of the sky.
Yellow,
a color that dissolves inside my thin muscles,
my tongue wired up with your name,
a loose sheet of kiss and melancholy,
Yellow: a quiet tapestry that hangs loose
bearing limbs out of balance
bearing mouths dripping foolish sins.
An external pain of the body,
a pain crisp as our bedsheet
I am a bunch of memories that belong to the sky
patched and cornered.
__________________________________________
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
A love tale
Beneath my chin
above the nape of the neck
a heralding discover I utter,
a tune of orgasm in sunshine
a tune of roaring diaphragm,
here, I sit and count my fingers dipped
numb and electric,
so much despair
that stares back.
So much to reach
just a hand
cold, cold, cold
and nothing else now.
Limping and stuttering,
between my cold clavicle
with bones so thin and weak
There is a waterfall of endless poetry
dripping from my bosom
a monotone of soft , quiet landscapes.
It spills again,
roaming in a silver night
I produced my book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical.
Crimson skins – US
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
MY VALIANT SOUL 