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… Continue reading Autumn Lovers

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… Continue reading I need some love and support.

To all the dead trees-

swim acrossattest the painsink into the lake of griefwatch and convulse, the narration-the blue oblong face of emotions-it disappoints me each day,you and your flatterymy small body,small, petite chin that thrusts no life anymore.Watch a face again,think about it,the slippery texturegrains allover the bodyblurred, overgown opinionsI am sad flower today, trying to be the moonbut… Continue reading To all the dead trees-

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 Skins‘ and 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… Continue reading To my readers- thank you

The Awakening-

If I could,I would evaporate through your moutha doorawy to dreamsand tiny dots-wild mushrooms dancing atop our bodiesas if we have trapped the moon in our eyelids-eyelids that do not utter a word, flowers on terrace,static noises we scratch water with nails,dirt on our palmsto know the film of our memoryfloating in the lakethrough breasts,… Continue reading The Awakening-

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… Continue reading sense of staying- a poem

a thing of loss

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… Continue reading a thing of loss

Daisy and the fields

my body is a quiet placeit’s about flowers stones a silent theatregreen threads of the blue skywet body of motifs and beautiful soft wildflowerstoday,the mind wanders for a soulful soula shade of velvet love- making,golden embers, a glint of partial sunlightmy limbs are imagery, as ifmy hands my poetrythis womb, a season of creation,like sea,… Continue reading Daisy and the fields

To the woman- who knows it all

The other day I thought of writing a poetry about healing About self- love, growth Nonsense. My tone is still abrupt, crooked, melancholic Orange like the winter sun My hands are yet pale. Yellow as the home cooked oil, The other day I thought of writing about memories that soothe me Motionless. About the barren… Continue reading To the woman- who knows it all

Meteors

Bones indigo, lacking a piece of earth, inside your mouth of stars a tremor of zodiac signs Like a Taurus blooming.   You sprinkle lust on my bosom bubbles of thin colours, a 4 am  moonlight sigh. Tender mouths of mud and water, unborn fruits of the ultimate kiss. This is us.   My hips… Continue reading Meteors

A concern to self-

And there is almost nothing but this silence with which I caress my pallid numb thoughts mud stained- inner knuckles, fingernails growing all small and ugly and not just that, but I sleep with my dirty longings as well. Bed of misery beneath the flesh of tongue. Endless field of dark fragmented hopes/ You name… Continue reading A concern to self-

The itch

the itch,the orange glass ceilings always fail my existence,an inhuman thing sinks beneath my eyelidswalking abruptly, in patterns unknown,there are things which makes no sensea loose river like madnessa loose butter like sky slipping from my white hands,my hands which are now counting the marks of my footprintsmaking a spiral knot about this moments,this momentary… Continue reading The itch

If I could- a poem from my book ‘Crimson Skins’

If I couldI would elope with my insanitywith a lavender bud blooming insidemy cheek.I write mad thingsdrawing the turbid face of a blue ladyas if she has no blood vessels.Breathless.Slow.Melting.Twirling in my skirt skirts,twirling along the locus.My breaths inflate this entire galaxy.like an elastic stuck to the tongue,this tongue that is motionless too.If I could,… Continue reading If I could- a poem from my book ‘Crimson Skins’

A Memoir about Prayers and Healing

Things do not attach themselves to our void, till we allow it to occur. Things- broken, upsetting they instill our hearts and soul with remorse and pain. A haunting truth about liberation is when we clench our minds limited only to the point we think we need it, it never occurs. What about the next… Continue reading A Memoir about Prayers and Healing

The Night

And after the things have been quiet,a slow nocturnal pause returnsa pause to collapse again,There is an endless whistling,with a bleached skya bleached portion of the sunsetI can still touch it,the surface of things breaking apart,the nuisance of the blood vesselthe hanging canopy of faces: dry/parallel.The night takes everything within itself,abandoned by all,it has not… Continue reading The Night

Yellow- a poem

Yellow – scratched and heavyan unknown desire to melt between the stasis of the sky.Yellow,a color that dissolves inside my thin muscles,my tongue wired up with your name,a loose sheet of kiss and melancholy,Yellow: a quiet tapestry that hangs loosebearing limbs out of balancebearing mouths dripping foolish sins.An external pain of the body,a pain crisp… Continue reading Yellow- a poem