> I have seen women in a room chilled as the mountain, drowning in a ravenous shelter of heartache. A feverish leg that jolts in summer. Women breathe sand and exhale boken poetry. Women in my town, dessicated in fumes of black clouds, they do not speak about the evil talks now. What is it… Continue reading Cold talks
Tara remembers her doings. The pale kitchen sink speaking of chipped dreams, tectonic thighs of fidgeting swamp. Her lipstick is all nude today. Nude as the man of her dreams, saliva draped carefully between the folds of her lips. And her purse sliding between her perfect round bosom. She wears sunrise as her makeup, with… Continue reading Tara
First of all, I would like to extend my gratitude to all my genuine followers who have supported my work in the best possible way over the years and so now I am thrilled to announce that my dear friend Kristiana and I are soon going to start our own collective OLIVE SKINS which is… Continue reading Call for submissions- Olive Skins
There is absolutely no pattern for a person to decay or a pattern for the fruit to burst. Nature shove the ashes of human anatomy like a geranium in rust and spit into the sky. A definite pause for the system to observe cracks open with no faint hope, at times. How do you see… Continue reading Uniformity
I am talking like this after ages, I know. Thing is something is there I feel lacking inside me. That satisfaction, maybe? Since past many days, i have been observing the silent response on my blog, not that i care for the stats. But the comments are the things which always uplifted me. i have… Continue reading dear readers!
i have a mouth of needles and feet like albumen, peppermint walks of my body deliver a soft voice, I squeak often and break like vintage china, leaking is the catharsis, moon or the sun, we leak sideways. Ferment tales on my pillows, sliding a perforated cup of talks to my own self, (my own… Continue reading A women’s spring
i understand that feeling of leaking. an untold truth from your orange laps, You breathe deeply, like a concave mirror dropping in shreds. You wish to be gentle, to be soft. A smouldering aroma that sits quietly on the bosom, nonchalantly. I understand the pain and the peeling of throats past evening, You force a… Continue reading We are the voice
it’s that time of the month when the earth blooms like a bride, and a thumb of life splinters. fragments of the earth, the moon like a mahogany autumn kiss, divides my body into two beautiful halves. I am a blossom now, a dew on the foreheads of Gods. Those gods who created a… Continue reading splinters
Meera drinks nectar like an inconspicous child. With a bowl dipped in sugar lime soda. She travels around your iris,swallowing apples. All at once. The windowsill fades aways as she drops her clothes on her mosaic, transparent floor. Refraction delivers prejudice. A moist floor. A lady bird walks in an old fashioned way to sip… Continue reading Meera and her Ways.
Sharing my one of the poem that published in Visual Verse A nameless flower, born in the thistle of cacophony. My white thighs wrapped in the cellophane of expectations, suffocating and palpitating. I marked my mother with scars, when I was born, she survived and cursed. I am a girl, a white penumbra of the… Continue reading Still Evolving