poetry · published

Flower and Fruits

These words will arrive in formations

about my sleep

about the morning fresh dew.

about Point of indulgence. Crisp periphery of sliced strawberries.

About dying Flowers and Fruits.

Scratch, fingers across belly button.

Finding appropriate word is almost like flowing incessantly.

Organs fluttering.

My words will occur in shapeless boundaries

with lanterns and lost sheets of clouds.

A few about moments. A few about tiny swirls of acrylic seasons.

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Would love to see you reading the poetry collection I published during the last year. Available worldwide now!:)

poetry

How it ends

Flowers come to mind for some reason

poppies, cactus in December

spaces silted with darkness

I didn’t know I liked the Sun

Until today

     A multi- coloured chart without boundary

The day

Not quite dawn.    The plain white stare.

          I go out for walking

somewhere along with my loneliness

narrow streams running through

decayed tooth

River water mixed with my eyeballs

Somewhere is

Someone

saying my poems?

Traces that stir

the waves of an old affair.

All day is stoic,

At dusk i wake with eyes wet.

I carry that and go off to bed again.

poetry

Things that happened

Picture- mine

Things happened in the past

with a reckless sigh of breath

with madness screaming above the shore.

Things happened between the sky and the Earth.

Climate / Conditions,

Between. Stone. Tank traces,

a poem got saddened,

quenching and reaching,

split and tear.

Like frozen apples and bananas

I hunt them, roll them

from the pines in the beginning.

Snort on them, put them in my veins,

old things,

Forlorn ankles. Bruised. Soft. Slow.

I have songs from the Island,

that I never share.

Things happened between the day and the night.

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P.S- I AM GOING TO READ A LIVE POETRY SOON ON INSTAGRAM ALONG WITH A FEW OTHER TALENTED ARTISTS. LET ME KNOW IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED, I WILL SHARE THE LINK.

Thinking of a Christmas gift? My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson skins

Crimson Skins- India

poetry · prose

Tales from the dark

the nights shift incessantly

between the coiled conversation,

about semantics of life

the arrival and departure of distilled solitude

at a point of growling sleep patterns

my words think they are tool

to carve

to emboss a pain onto the strangers arms

about melancholic shifting dreams,

the mosiac vintage art

my nakedness is a cry to the limbs out of balance

they cringe,

they wither away

like soft paper dreams,

crushed under the sinking elbow

again

and

again.

……………………………………………………………..

Thinking of a Christmas gift? My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson skins

Crimson Skins- India

poetry

Growing up

I realize I am growing old

with my motherโ€™s home prepared coconut oil,

pressed flowers on the sheets.

I sleep next to her

almost like a ritual now,

I realize

when she mumbles softly in her sleeps

the childhood was different-

It was full of prayers, folk songs, odes, laments.

I see her sleep walking now-

abruptly between the noises in her head

amidst the empty pale rooms,

Circling

Walking

Sitting

I see her sleeping with deep breaths,

a hard name to remember-

I realize, I am growing too old now

to witness the melancholy,

to paint my fingers in the sea of dementia.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Thinking of a Christmas gift? My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson skins

Crimson Skins- India

poetry

Falling Dream

I am quiet too often
like the empty hallways,
humming a song already forgotten
with a tilting toe towards the sun
a sigh: pink fingers dipped in pain
a sigh: pink fingers dipped in hallucination
   there is a staircase now
falling beneath my parting head
half towards left,
            half towards right
days whistling on sea waves
about my country in flames,
about my city in illusions

watching a cloud
things fall under the feet now
a complete loss of sense 
tiny leaflets fluttering

green songs that reflect nothing.
the survival becomes a pungent smell often
with absent glares
and a blue sea that is a part of my dream.

My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson Skins- US

Crimson Skins- India

poetry

Poetry published

Hi dear readers-
I have a poem published on Sylvia magazine. Many thanks to the editor for showing love to my piece.

Please read the poem through the link attached.

A promise to keep us warm

My book crimson skins can be a great holiday gift! Do check it out on Book Depository, Amazon, kindle. A few links have been attached.

https://www.bookswagon.com/book/crimson-skins-devika-mathur-candice/9781951724030

poetry

song of skin

ย 

ย ARt-Rajendra Gupta

here is my skin

all naked

for the trees to murmur
a soft blow

a hibiscus to press my earlobe
against the pillow

the handprints of the moon
against my cheek,

here is my skin- sliced as an orange
piquant as sunrays

over the glare of the auburn sky
my skin- a nectar of soft honey sigh

of a mother's soft voice,

Buy My book

https://www.bookswagon.com/book/crimson-skins-devika-mathur-candice/9781951724030

poetry

Please read this.

Hello dear readers,

I have no clue how to begin this but I definitely feel sad to see how people on this lovely community are showing lack of interaction on my blog. I understand, how I was not always there to read all your lovely posts as I was caught up in the releasing/ promoting procedure of my poetry book.

But I dont want my bond with my valuable readers to die out. I have invested my love on this platform through my poetry.

Please let me know if I can catch up with your recent works as well. I truly care about this blog, our community, our love for writing.

(In case you wish to read my book-Crimson Skins, you can check out Amazon and bookswagon.)

Love

Devika

poetry · prose · published

lady in white

๐”ฝ๐•’๐•ค๐•™๐•š๐• ๐•Ÿ ๐•ก๐• ๐•ค๐•ฅ๐•ค on Instagram: โ€œPendants and chains  By @heyhegia โœจโ€

ย 

I know of a lady in white
with a mouth full of promises,
spreading a nocturnal path of flowers,
like a longed kiss above the eye,
a lady that slips in my chest,
within the small rim of my fist,
a sniff so wild, a mouth that dwells on mountains moist.
a lady with a potato peel,
with cardigans and wool on her mahogany table,
entangled like dust in her bun,
mouth covered with layers of smiles and powder,
a moment of purple sanity,
a lady in white that lives in a suburban city,
with marigolds just in her eyes.
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Find my published collection Crimson Skins worldwide.

Crimson Skins Amazon US

Crimson Skins Amazon India

Crimson Skins Book Depository

Crimson Skins Bookswagon

You can read my collection on Barnes & Noble , too.