Autumn Lovers





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.
-------------------------------------------------





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
Crimson Skins- POTHI
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I need some love and support.

I am writing after a long time . As I was having a rough time with my life, life patterns etc and in the process I stopped writing almost everywhere. Even the acceptance letters from great magazines did boost up my mood but it did not stay for a long duration and hence I was always feeling almost numb and lost.

Meanwhile, I am writing this to ask a favour- as you all know I have a published book Crimson Skins” published last year, I need to keep it working too! I need your support. Please share, get a copy or just share this post if you can’t get a copy of my poetry bok. I have worked really hard for that one and it took almost 3 years to make through the entire publication process. If you love my surrealistic style, work, please consider getting a copy.

A kind friend of mine has something to say about the book-

Crimson Skins has a variety of work any reader will enjoy. The book isn’t basic and will be able to go the extra mile for years to come. I will be so bold as to say many of the pieces featured in it has the staying power of words by a few greats such as Sylvia Plath, Adrienne Rich, and Virginia Woolf. It ends just as it began, with an intense piece of writing showcasing the writer’s talent

Book review by- tre

Here are the links-

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Crimson-Skins-Devika-Mathur-ebook/dp/B08GCWK4D5/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=crimson+skins&qid=1631955409&sr=8-1

POTHI INDIA

Much love

Devika.

My newsletter- Here you get some mindful thoughts, classic poetry, exercises etc weekly!

My body underneath

Courtesy-pinterest
You- a nectar of the moon,
gliding through the gleaming sheets of orange moans
atop my waist
that slips through your feet
and a long stare-
a reverie of blooming seasons
horizontal touches of galaxy,

A walnut cracks open,
a fidget through the bones

a sweet summer song- soil, soil,soil
I see raindrops through my belly, now-
a grasshopper twirling through the toes
you- a carrier of everything that my eyes sews
my body that wraps underneath.


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
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul

Hear my Podcast episode-as I talk about creativity.

Dear Readers,

Hear me talk to the adventurous soul Petra on the recent episode for her Podcast that she calls “Erratic Hat Podcast”. I talk about creativity, the writing process and about publishing process etc. You can check out the podcast and her blog here.

Also, I have changed my newsletter title now- it is called – “The Weekly Shine“- Try reading the newsletter archive here and if you don’t like you don’t subscribe, it’s that easy!

I curate classic poetry, mindful activities, artwork all that for free.

A landscape-


the rivers that speak of us,
warmer bodies
 nectars of jasmine and hibiscus-
a lady from photograph,
biting a strange loneliness sitting onto her bosom
a strange memory of distilled longings-

a lady that sulks and pronounce everything watery,
dreams of wildfire and river-beds

I travel through her caricature,
her oblong drifting fingers,
eyes of pain and despair-
eyes- a mirage of limbs too,
I watch her and think of this pregnant sky

day and night.

She- a soliloquy od soft pastel dreams.
------------------------------


Read the newest newsletter here-

https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul

Blue velvet sighs

Body of coral sunsets slipping underneath,
and I think of your curvatures, silhouettes of water- lotus
a heavy mass of flower spinning upon the moon,
a daydream and slow night

slow as far riverbeds, moaning
quick and slow.
the fingernails hide a slippery naked climate,
fermented by the shiver and body on body

dirty tablecloths:
dirty walls, kitchen sinks melting away
melting like the throbbing blood
blood: so warm and luscious now

as a river riding a star.
I squat in the evening, on the fresh, frozen floor
like  a rose, budding and blooming.

  The pink air laughs and shifts incessantly
between our pastel love, our growing thick bites
the hollows of tongues
dancing.

Mermaids in heaven.
I stare and stare and become the large junction

(Bodies rhyming)

To all the dead trees-

Source
swim across
attest the pain
sink into the lake of grief
watch and convulse,
the narration-
the blue oblong face of emotions-
it disappoints me each day,
you and your flattery
my small body,
small, petite chin
that thrusts no life anymore.
Watch a face again,
think about it,
the slippery texture
grains allover the body
blurred, overgown opinions

I am sad flower today, trying to be the moon
but the moon is always sad,
I tell myself to watch the moving crowd
to feel the concrete tree
and the still landscape of stagnancy exists
a pill of loss and convulsions all day long.
-----------------------------------------

I have a book- Crimson skins. Read it if still you have not. on kindle, pothi etc.

I am happy to announce I have a poem in this beautiful anthology-
Hecate Magazine.

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 Skinsand 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

Crimson Skins- India

thankyou.

sense of staying- a poem

Hi, Welcome to my poetry world yet again. I guess we all have no better solution rather than staying positive and hopeful. I am glad to feel this positive vibe yet again after all that India has been through and is still dealing. I am trying to do as much as I can and that includes taking care of my mental health as well.

Sharing a poem. Let me know your views and in general how life has been treating you all?:)

And maybe this shall never end-
Here, I rest my palms along with the stars,
honey-suckled, 
twigs of sunsets
hoping for tree of wishes
a spoon of lukewarm winters
which sits beside my small mind
a roar of summer breeze,
producing so much that only my heart can see,
 and maybe this shall never end-
yet I long for coral sweaters,
grass 
                attachment layered sky
above and below-
           the dreamcatchers
            in the grainy rain.
Our mouths unravelling
and spitting a tongue of hibiscus growing
scrubbing:
scrubbing all the sins away
lights spinning- gold,
poppies in a bathtub
and leaves fluttering across our bodies-
we want this,
           a human touch
a human being, indeed.

If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it is soon going to be an year for my book 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
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou

Jasmine

The sniff
lingers
between the hills and the mountain
a sniff to overcome a dismay,
a snippet of a saint
through the threads of fragile life.
Jasmine- a floral drop of snow
now between my knuckles,
rubbing
against my pillow
a cry for dreams,
a lotus shaped prayer.
Jasmine- a quiet nostalgic hope,
prayers about fairies and daydreams,
The sun and the waters,
echoing wool of the sunburn.
The sniff-
my mother's voice
an elastic memory
of tales and despair.
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
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou

a thing of loss

artemisdreaming: “ Malcolm Liepke The color. ”

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.

Open Screams

Hi!

I have not written here since last month. As you all know, India is dealing with the second treacherous wave of pandemic and somehow i managed this . While my parents are still recovering my heart goes out to every life lost, every soul that departed too early. It will take time to accept this loss. The body is in a state of archaic , numb loss.

This emptiness is a sullen sky
droplets of opaque women tears
with lanterns so bright, it almost blinds you.
next to my body rests a stack of another human forms
degenerated, transparent as the rain
with no family left, words lost
bruised up thigh, femur now disjoined.
next to my breath, is a women gasping already
for a husband, gasping for the open sky.
The surgeons of my city are tired, breathless and full of insomnia
they stammer and talk about open wounds
about lungs so swollen
screams of air- air-air across the hallway,
screams about ventilators, one more oxygen cylinder.
the screams are bluish tint
of fever so high now
almost strident with trees growing up in the sky.
The floors have gone mute,
the child is lost counting a mute, tongue less dance: left with nothing.
The tampered cassettes are stuck already
tethered onto something less painful.
Where does this merge to?
Where does this lead us now?
Shouts , screams and lungs still infected.
Time collapsed inside my mouth of fear.

Stay safe.

Understanding Poetry

artist-  Alexandra Levasseur.
How much is too much?
Inosculate, squalid words on your sheet
the layers that speak of my heavy mind
are supposed to be easy to ingest?
How?
The air is as pellucid as my eye of misery.
but the words do not stop here
the words do not stick just to the head
there is death occurring these days
enough for me to write a lament
a lament about this stomach
this body
this hour of existence.

the hour that speaks of loss
survival requires prayer   hope and warriors
who are we, I ask?
the sufferers or the healers?
The syntax is an old odium
I refuse this hour
I refuse the way you swallow my poetry
my half- burnt mind is my solace and a tragedy.
 Disintegrated shreds of light.

Hi! The rise in the pandemic cases especially in India , in my city have taken a serious toll on my metal health and I am sure it is equally bad for the rest. This poem comes out from a place pain, misery. Thank you for reading.

Generally I would attach a link to my book, etc..but I do not feel right now so you can ignore.

no space to love

source-pinterest

Napowrimo#12

the poppies won't die tonight
I sense the drama through the bleeding faces again
the parched vase of you and me
the horizon of us-
a hallowing question to that equation
     the fields seem  opaque,
dreary, with  white sunflowers
I run and burn
to sniff your presence
to sniff the existence
the love equation to the sky
and to things beyond

my feet seem to be the carrier of our love poems,
enthralled and quiet
almost like a woman lost in translation
Chips in frost.
   cold    barren
as if a tree unfolded a leaf so huge
  
the love rises
and sinks
and stinks,
it breaks and fills the spaces
with things so small
almost like a hurricane,
moths fluttering,
  there is no place left to make love-
not between such damp sheets, at least.

The Hunt

But this sorrow never ends. 
The tongue that runs cold
due to platonic threads of sins and cold meadows
the ache is blooming each day
beneath the blue unfolded eyes
the colour green- now a tone of burning bodies
this is my survival song, you see
with lines cryptic sunset on my lap
the night never fades away
the soil enriched with a glint of my water
my heavy overwhelming collapsing lungs.
this poem shall not soothe you-
instead would ask you to hunt something more
some more of air, water, sun , fire.
in your neighborhood
about the fallen leaves.
dry tongues,
neck choking.
about things so unpleasant
you would not otherwise want to know.
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
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou