In the month of August I published my poetry collection ‘Crimson Skins’ which you can check out on all the major online stores. I am proud of my book, for the love it received.:)
Crimsons skins is a collection of beautifully written poems and proses by Devika Mathur revolving
around several themes of life brought out with effective metaphors. Devika Mathur is an indie writer
with her works published in various journals all across the globe. The first poem ‘olive skin’ is a
wonderful start to the array of poems, every poem more poignant and detailed than the last one. If you
lack imagination, this would be a tough nut to crack but those with a flowing imagination can indulge in
this ingenious journey with every turning page. I specifically enjoyed the complicated but honest
metaphors that were embedded in her poems. Some of the lines cut too deep, almost making you
devour every word to understand how hauntingly beautiful it is.
– Manya Upadhyay Author of -Every Part of me
You can grab your copies by clicking on the following links and if you do please do not forget to leave a review.:)
I just received my author copies of “Crimson Skins“. If anyone interested in receiving a signed copy of my book please let me know as soon as possible. The books will be available at discount, also along with my signature.
If in case you wish to read the collection sometimes in future, support this fellow artist by adding the book in your cart for future reading.
Available as kindle, worldwide.
Happy reading. Let me know your views.:)
My loneliness spews from the dark curtains
/ fevering beneath a molted lampshade, running
amidst the hanging treehouse, a sharp blue gong of a temple.
Upon the arrival of next month, my tongue develops a sickness,
In a nonchalant abrupt way,
Defying the lucid crispness of nights,
I carry a storm of perforated stars in my womb,
delivering a slick wall of hope, again till the next month arrives.
I have a list of ways in which I take care of myself-
Practicing gratitude till the eyes die out of numb shocks,
Watching the surreal wings of birds, till I am being judged
And the process never ends,
Till the process of death is shining on my iris.
Buy my poetry collection ‘ Crimson Skins’ here- U.S
And for Indian readers buy your copies here-
The book is available as Kindle as well as on Barnes and Noble, Book Depository.
Thank you for reading my poetry. Hope you all shall cherish my book as well.
You can find my book on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Book Depository etc.
A day before yesterday, I noticed how my blog got more than 5k subscribers and I never got an opportunity to sit and express my gratitude to all those who have supported me in all my thick and thins. Thank you for believing in my words and my mind. There is a lot that can happen over a cup of coffee and poetry and I hope you have enjoyed the journey with me so far in reading and writing poetry and prose. I am stoked to see the kind of love I accumulated over the past 2 and half years, it really makes me wholesome. I am trying my best in catching up with maximum blogs that I can. The WordPress algorithm has apparently changed a lot now.
Also, thank you for all your lovely wishes for my just released book- Crimson Skins
Crimson Skins is curated with utmost sincerity and hope that my readers can cherish my words. The collection took a whole lot of my energy and I am proud to say I survived so many things while I was in the process. This book will not disappoint you if you resonate with my poetry.
Thank you for being a part of my writing journey! Take care.
(I will be sharing my newsletter soon, just taking a small break since I can easily be anxious).
we slumber through days
of moist observations
of things unspoken of.
An organ. A transparency..
there are things beyond our two nutty eye
to cling a mouth full of love,
that cascade through my fragile shoulders
through my heavy white bosom
speaks of you
speaks of sin
speaks of white emptiness
raindrops sweet and soft
unravels a story of mother’s womb.
so much beyond and so much less.
What do I ask for now?
peace or lust from you?
A landscape. A delusion.
I write this to pleat my unevenness
to fool you into believing
about our eloping mad love.
Hi, Hope you all are doing well. Let me know how did you enjoy my this poem in the comments below.
Night breaks apart like thousand skies on Earth with a hint of mauvish whisper the whisper spills everywhere enveloping things around me. Dreams create illusion of being permanent of sticking to the odd times with a mayhem stuck to the air. You would wish to sit and digest each tiny aspect of dreams with a mind of a spider trying to decode the methods but you would end up missing on your pills. It does not matter anymore the warm shade of conclusions till the time your hands are rooted in the soil till the time you hands feel the pain, yellow or orange. There is something to change the blood into passion, dreams that becomes nightmares colours that become a chalice of poison. It does not matter.
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And just like that
between the chorus of the bruised sky,
I slip my set of auburn love.
Sediments of galaxies and rivers
entwined between my outgrown fingers.
Seduction is a way of swimming across your mind, half awake.
These tall trees
perform tensions, fiction,
and a layer of loneliness shifts to the sea of the blank river,
I slide my head against your chest,
the ivory garland of future seasons,
the whistling of galaxies
Bluebells swinging in the thunder of our sheets.
My body shuddering like a torn cloth
arms howling in the wild air.
We lick each other,
a chant for dripping lust
and here I become full and warm.
It is past April
empty corridors of dreams
and I swell upon the memory of
READ MORE OF MY WORK-
My work on Spillwords was published here.
There isn’t a sight that does not make me think of you
of your auburn burning skin in the heat-
a poem so soft on your lips,
it almost is center of all light
an inflammable kiss
with fumes coalescing into fumes of rainbows
The body rises from something so chalky beneath
an enormous restlessness
traversing nights and days
I wish to remember days like these
beneath my frolic skirt
above my trembling belly
I wish to swallow your blank stare
your stare that revolves like a tangerine sky
with leftover peels of my summer orange.
I wish to remember dry afternoons
with a song inserted in my mouth
a bee that rotates like a tulip
between our fingers entwined.
Like all things of love and soft music.