The smoke of love

From my left toe, I bleed shouting the years of constant wound,

harsh numb, dead leaves hanging from my inner ear

The half lit candle smirks on my shrinking 

Bedsheet, that lacks you.

With the sway of pendulum I count my hearbeat, hearing the drop of water from

My lips to your sturdy chest

Pour the breeze of mountain chills on my unkissed shoulder,

Then stroke the brush from the galaxy and paint my body with auburm kisses

Play clircles, squares creating a beguiling art on my naval

Where the earthquake is created rupturing new glossy shoots, wandering 

For the further smoke of your tranquilizing face of love.

Rise and Heal

–

Like autumn leaves my words are shredded
into the oblivious basket of doleful cracked souls.
I rise once again, hoping for a falling star and collecting its
reminiscence into my insipid hair,
only to emboss the flaws and flourish with my insecurities.

 

 

Rise and heal.

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©my valiant soul

Poetry

Under the clear skies with pearls of white words,
I knit my word into my emotion, repeat the process
brush, brush, and blink, blink.
Taking the ecstasy onto my teeth, I feel the caress of my saddest lines,
put it on my fragile white shoulder,
then cut my words and swallow the ink,
this is how I started Poetry.

With a blank space between my fingers,
with a crooked faith,
my breast was swollen with fire, the unflinching desire
thumping my murky pen, producing a river of composed mind,
producing the glitters of fairy dust
this is how I started Poetry.

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For I am a Woman.

image credits-Pinterest

 I am a protrusion of rose,
hiding the black spot of the moon in my valour
that rises white dandelions on your skin.
My finger bones creak my virtues,
giving a red shade to the once grey shadow
for I am a Woman, invincible like mammoth stars,
I seek, I wander through the rim of sidewalks
conjuring in roles only unspeakable of.
I walk, I swim, I conquer, I am a swollen mass of expectations
I carve sunflowers, lavender on my forehead,
a thorn indeed wrapped in the interiors of my lips,
my sun-baked lips,
still the succulent lips
oh! My lips.
And then my heart speaks a language of ripe fruits,
yellow pages, white pages all inside
burning a canopy of emotions
Decaying, nurturing, flourishing.
for I am a woman, invincible like mammoth stars.

---

Newborn Me

 

image credits- my valiant soul

Time: An acerbic motionless protest cling to my feet,
abstruse it lies on my face disguised as the
murky hair-strand, defining today’s black solitude
whiffing tomorrow’s grey death.
Friable snippets of my today’s sorrow still exist,
lying on my wet sheet of the chopped pillow
as the translucent water drops on my oak tree,
Dissonant hangings still sing bliss
while my insipid dulcet arms cross each other in anguish.
I see a black star, death perhaps?
I see a white star, sufferings perhaps?
Convulsions of betrayal paralysis my lower half
in the basket of crooked watermelon slices.
I knead the vacuum of Orion, stepping into the loophole
of the web of time, knots constrain my teeth,
Now, time halts inside my empty stomach
echoing the bulge of a lump of void dust.
Brushing the remnants onto my airy skin,
The striking of pendulum in my upper eyelid
gives the aftermath to a newborn me.

 

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©my valiant soul

The-wisdom- is- her

Mother: You are a hyperbole of the moon and the star, a hubris of soliloquy.

Like floating wax, you extend your skin to my mouth, forming chains of bewilderment

chains of congruence     chains of mammoth frills of hope.

You lie in the darkest of hours with a sparkle of holy water on your chin, the pink chin,

the orange chin, the grey chin where all the clandestine secrets are packed between

your teeth and the parched lips, you give blossom to my hair extending to my curves

the scarlet, metamorphosis pattern of face

Opulent serenity lies in your blood, I see my reflection

Time, death or a crooked  tree, you put embroidery incumbent to survive the veracity,

harsh or simple.

Objects around you become opaque, hollows of orange skies

squares of white ice, the eye of Satan

I absorb all the conjectures knitted in the black of  your eyes

to the stars in your magical touch

the fidelity to produce a seed: a seed I shall carry

a seed I may fail

your liquid, pale truth of surviving I inhale in the morbid tales of summer

only to form the web of ink and paper burning inside your motionless,

sturdy, an amalgamation of Supreme Ant  intoxicating, all pouring inside

basket of void, dulcet, a white star.

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Loop Of Hope.

 

The world is a scorching lie, it gallops the light

swallowing the other half of a stale melon

climbing the stairs in a descending order

rubbing alcohol to one’s eye

the flaccid numb lugubrious eye

throwing dust in the basket of an old lady

And then cherishing the gaze of a falling star

crossing hair strands to form an impeccable knot,

I see, hardened rock in my navel, smothered like a beggar’s face.

The cryptic resonance, the elliptical sunrise

An egg-shaped lie.

Then, I see the light, white light adorning the dark background

forming patterns, jigsaw puzzles

Imbrication of susurrous paths, my eyelids wide open only

to scratch the remains of dirt

to pick up the lost child

and dancing towards the little loop of hope.

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A Secret Star

Beneath the professing sound of my laughter,
Above the splintery skin of my earlobes
A music of reverie churns inside my naval
like the icicles formed, sticking
to my opaque, incongruous chirpings flowing
in the arms of my composer
my sooth sayer, my caretaker.
The dormant dormitory now kindles,
as the path of dark abyss moves
in the horizon of encapsulating time space
where the drops of my wrinkle free cheeks
move up in the sky,
embellishing,
accessorizing,
as that brightest star,
fermenting your once dead spirit,
near your soft pillow.

---

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Auburn circle

Auburn circles of faith, drooling hope in my throat

choking my senses to deliver the web of matched periphery of dawn to dusk.

I am hanging from the top of colossal tree, where children and lovers come

to bask in the mirth of my golden shade,

My sapphire corset lying in the turbid laps of nature

under the paintings of blues and purple

above the yellow, purple neighbours

in the memory of Olympic soil

I cherish the glamour, the petrichor

the crisscross on my head,

the elysian corners of hugging my pits

I am soaked in the essence that fascinates this moment,

As I am An Auburn circle  of desire,

A daydream sweet pie, A hot ball of shines and flicker.

A solitude in everything.

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A place like this

The epitome of peach shaped markings,
Defining the extended fields of valour and hope,
Drooling in my walnut bones,
Mingling in my solitary ebb,
Lies inside a place where my mother
Wakes me up from a cascading nightmare.
To the jubilant staircase of rainbow meadows,
To catch an intrepid molecule of a butterfly
Then to drink a cup of valour,
As I see a place like this
Rupturing, beaming.
Flickering amidst the stars in the sky.

The sweet innocent Palm.

The shambolic evening sings music

With petals of petunia in my thigh

I mock at the hypocrite crowd

The masked souls, enough of charcoal tonight

I shall burst my bubbles of insanity you say, for I am home to wild hills

Where the temple bell sing jingles to my arteries

Sinking in my color, the eccentric red blood

Coinciding with my footsteps, filling the craters of my lipstick

Filling the lacuna of my hairline

Giving it an atom of granite

Splendid marks will arise from my delight soul kissing even your dark loopholes

Will you do the same? Oh shame!

I have the meraki of dark silence comforted as butter in my palm

My sweet innocent innocuous palm.

Carvings

The black petals
On my backbone
Fluttering mysteries
Like stupefied
Vintage buildings
Resemble your devouring thoughts,
That cling to
My mouth
My backbone
My forehead
My cheekbones and
My heart
In a insepid mundane pattern
Of a dead leaf.

Radiant Dreams

via Daily Prompt: Symphony

I match the hollows of my empty watered eyes

with the upcoming

flowers,

The dandelion dreams

shall not die

instead will

have coruscating thorns

in the symphony of a sweet puddle

to become the powerful lantern

of all times.

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Promises

I remember that warm greet you gave me

in the cold chilly winters,

that hug you gave defined your inexplicable puerile love,

You promised to be the summer flower in my numb chilled thought,

You intrigued the new definition of allegiance

promised to be a gazing blur on the window of my heart

Entranced by your words of humility, I stepped onto the bridge of fidelity

a bridge of flowers leading to a bubbling valentine house,

promises is what I have in the hollow of my palm

I choose to hold it ,embrace it

whirl and churn your breaths into my pale blood

So that you may know one day, what all I craved for.

Periphery of us.

The pond of breezy footsteps,

The eye of solitude kiss knitted from the colours of pinkish sun,

The ripples of love making in the caress of my hair,

The dusk jotting down the sidewalk with your colourful shadow

Like the blue vintage chair adorned, safe.

You kissed the demons from the whites of my eye,

Like stars blasting colours in the horror sunken sky,

Red, orange , and my heartbeat

Struggling through the narrows of connive heart, the chains of numb finger, into the periphery of you and me.

More of you.

Look deep, shades of blue and black

the eyes of satan, the eyes of cupid

the chains of sorrow, the crack of a backbone,

the loss of blood, look harder

into the bowl of rippling water

the gargantuan stay of evil

flickering in my veins

flickering in your veins

rub roses now, dip into holy waters

dip into your reflection

correct the haywire roads

spray the scent on your collarbone

wear the white pearls around your neck

now you shall see

the more of you.

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