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!
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.
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What does this speak to you?
my lament and a burning tongue
a swamp so full of oiled waters
I have an eye of the tiger
a frivolous running star
and often I sink in the void of blank noon.
They ask me how do I look
when I smile and giggle.
a silk saree well pleated and insane maybe.
I walk in the blazing red zone now,
I am scrupulous little statue of pale city.
I often smile,
I often glorify.
Check your thermometer now,
am I breathing still?
Is life still circulating around my small feet?
Check again, you.
A life sucks dream of one’s mind
and shove it into the loop of insanity.
My recent poems published on two drops of ink.
A cold mouth of air,
streaming down the rivers up till my painted toes.
I see a circled pair romancing behind the surface of the sky.
A cold distilled breaths.
Pure. Fixating, like a rubber band.
Far away from this orange sunset.
I hear umbrellas holding a hand of a detached one.
They support and smile. Simple.
Slowly, steadily like a geranium blooming after ages of scuffed earth.
Hums heard in the quietness of the diaphragm.
Subtle potions of looped lips,
speaking a language of gods.
Serene and mysterious.
poets standing on the ebb of satisfaction. Halt.
There, you, halt.
a bumblebee of your name comes
and sticks to my comatose body
strewing words of your lips,
porcelain slick drops of rain.
There I am, endlessly counting
the threads of time,
your body like chemicals rushing,
talking tounges, flesh sinking in nature.
something surreal we deliver to autumn,
a painted silhouette of love.
We gulp the harrowing throb of time,
inhaling the movements of our doused body,
in a swamp of emblematic sheets of symmetry.
We become a pattern, a floral one,
this is how i take you,
Afternoon red sun.