image credits- pinterest
if that is one big word
I want you to gulp it down.
My walls speaks of you
of a memory we shared
over the sweet sunrise from the balcony
Your percolating memories stir my throat
to think of our blue wise words.
I was always a pebble
a sweet, piquant attachment
from your dreams, father
a moist lost string of a pullover
that you always wanted to cherish.
I think of the sky
as I think of you
of infinite stars
of colours and oceans.
Of letters stuck to the neem trees
as I hold your this lost letter.
this is the only word that you should sleep on
for you remind me of rudimentary silhouettes of trees,
lukewarm peel of laughter.
I just issued a newsletter yesterday on fathers. Check it out-https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul/letters/poetry-on-father
Prompt- Dramatic Monologue
The face of singular lotus
come, let’s evolve
with our final dance
Take my hands
interlock it with yours
A strand of light
A strand of gleam
a yarn of mother’s touch
a cupboard full of old photo albums.
Your body is a shell
a shire of tulips
You have a mind of sunrise.
Look, do not overthink
for you must destroy this marble hour.
Do not stare and evolve with me
before you learn to pronounce L O V E.
After all, Queer is this ecstasy!
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.
For i see a tree behind a house made of clouds
a slow whisper entrapped beneath the soil
that never moves an inch
a state of wellness only getting harrowed
like a static voice losing the soft cotton-like warmth
each day where the bells pause to chime.
We come across rooms full of stars and nights
and things even harsher
Imaginations of people breaking apart
or true maybe
The slice of pain is where it must have all begun
numb and electric
Everything seems on fire
where it ends
where it begins
no one knows.
Thins behind the valley seem plain
with ordinary roses
ordinary chirpings and shadow.
hallucinations or reality?
Those were the days of love.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
Slow as a neighbour’s plant
Slow as a ripple static
An oblong wax melting away,
slow as raindrop stuck on a tree
As a splash of colour unable to blend
a monologue twirling inside my stomach
a song so old
with cough drops all around the drawers
Once a melody
now only an arm
now only a forehead
nothing at all
A nightmare in blue
It knows nothing now
only a flat desperation of air
The feet knows the crevices of life.
A small dot and a fanned breath of a leaf.
Thank you for always reading my work on WordPress. My love for you all will always be huge. Though it would mean a lot if you can subscribe to my tiny letter newsletter. I would be sharing some beautifully curated poetry of some great poets/ articles/ artworks and it shall also have insights into my work at your mailbox.
You won’t be disappointed.
You just have to subscribe to the mailbox and you can enjoy different poetries while sipping on your favourite tea and maybe anytime you wish to read. I still will be hanging onto my this platform along with my Instagram, twitter handle.
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
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.
If you wish to receive newsletters related to hope, poetry, faith on mundane days
try subscribing to my newsletter. You won’t be disappointed!:)
I do not need a bowl of salvation
for i see people dying each day
the walls of fragile mind
Florals of weak mind abstain from blooming
as it was never a state of peace.
As I write this poetry
I weep thinking of my existence
of the silences that creates a hue of colourless Sun.
thinking about the old moments
where conversations were simple
conversations made of pink wool
of memories and hands.
These days i imagine a single strand of grass
infused into the tunnel of my thin skin
to sit and spread a smell that wipes
things so small
things full of cold elements.
The body is driven mad
by the sight of people now
failing to comprehend the existence of things so bright.
I have a body now
that refuses to walk
a body so cold
a lifeless abstract piece of art.
(written after all that is happening around the world. I feel terrible.)
Subscribe to my newsletter for reading other poetry and artist’s work- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
There is a way to eat fruits.
The bites, cuts, peeling discloses a lot about the process,
about manifestations, prayers.
The layers are a cryptic code,
defining a particular gender.
What do you name Oranges?
A blossom of Goddess or the sweat of a man?
The tender skin hides the juices
of fervor and desires
step 1: Do not gulp it easily, it might choke you.
Step 2: Observe the underlying dots & thickness of the zest.
Step 3: Divide it into a group for easy naked observation.
Step 4: Rub the Albedo.
Step 5: Open the part and drink the nectar.
( Do not hesitate to sprinkle the skin on the face)
the flavoring chemicals begin to revolve
& this is how it falls inside your mouth
with a sky of teak words,
creating lust with teeth.
There is a way to eat Oranges
with harmony dancing.
Inspire after reading Figs- D.H Lawrence
I also curate poetry newsletters- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
Cities left like empty vases,
a spot once full
Run, run, run
to the places unknown
hiding beneath the carcass of nature,
Sit, observe and run
to the places that are quiet now.
Learn from the two-fold mystery of God,
they do it like a yard spinning.
Do not fear,
this pool is a rubber band,
the more you stretch, the more it shall get you.
Clench the fist of the thing you see next now,
yes, a rope,
but do not stop.
you have to live like a sussurous hymn.
Wrote after the super cyclone- Amphan.
Subscribe to my newsletter where I share other classic poetry-https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul