Poetry published in Madras Courier

I am more than elevated to share the news that my poem The Exit got published in Madras Courier which is a 233 old newspaper and is a reputed brand. Many thanks to the editor for accepting my work.
Read my work here.

The flight

Yeh Seedhi Sadhi Chori Sharabi Ho Gayi | via Tumblr

Where does it go?
Your unspoken word of lust,
an ensemble of parched dancing words,
Do you let them run?
Or do you absorb the guilt, like a sponge?

Harvest the other sides of pixie lawn now,
Run… run along the shores
embossing a pain onto the sand.

Among the stars is a paper flower blooming,
with a binomial tongue to speak.
The star and the earth do not suffice your sparkle.
Pelican featured sunset glows.

Slurp and slurp.
The agony hides behind the crevices of teeth.
Churn your fear like a betel leaf,
Take a flight,
Like the bunch of sun-kissed memories.

An update

Hey everyone!

So, I have been missing from WordPress from like an eternity due to certain reasons. I havent read anything here. I have missed reading and posting my poems both. I am just dropping a Hi here to know how things have been with you guys. I hope everything is going well with everyone.

Will be posting some poems soon.

olive skins accepting submissions- https://oliveskins.com/

Meanwhile, you can read my poems on my insta handle @myvaliantsoul.

Goddess

Featured Image -- 3750

i am the woman
the goddess of springs and words.

watch me rise.,
through threads of raisin

like a vintage blob of sun,
a phoenix from ashes.

My mouth is covered with cellophane
of rust skins,

it knows how to unwrap of sins,
a murderous night,

Watch this body of cold moon,
a silent night made of quiet mountains.

Observe and stay with me,
I throttle along with the rivers,

I provide and love,
like a goddess of all time.

Raindrops

 

there is absolutely an archaic music ruffling in my ear,
I call it home.
pitter-patter raindrops,
wrapping a ceremony around my waist.

There is belongingness to this body,
with nature being receptive of my patterns.
A short, polka dot marrying the tablecloth.
the small details that you often ignore.
And I surrender my eyes, amongst the worldly chaos.
The chopping of walnuts, the breaking of my patient knuckles,
as if waiting desperately for something abnormal to occur.

Raindrops/ a plural form of tears.
or a. singular verb. to soothe the reaction of popping pills.
I rest my fingertips,
whirling blue pain,
as heavy a s a cotton ball
on the drops of this waterfall.