Blue velvet sighs

Body of coral sunsets slipping underneath,and I think of your curvatures, silhouettes of water- lotusa heavy mass of flower spinning upon the moon,a daydream and slow night slow as far riverbeds, moaningquick and slow.the fingernails hide a slippery naked climate,fermented by the shiver and body on body dirty tablecloths:dirty walls, kitchen sinks melting awaymelting like…

The Hunt

But this sorrow never ends. The tongue that runs colddue to platonic threads of sins and cold meadowsthe ache is blooming each daybeneath the blue unfolded eyesthe colour green- now a tone of burning bodiesthis is my survival song, you see with lines cryptic sunset on my lap the night never fades awaythe soil enriched…

A lost letter to my father

  image credits- pinterest Thunder, 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,…

The Dance

Prompt- Dramatic Monologue You! The face of singular lotus come, let’s evolve someplace together with our final dance Take my hands interlock it with yours A strand of light A strand of gleam Your face a yarn of mother’s touch a cupboard full of old photo albums. Your body is a shell a shire of…

Imaginations

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 we live like a static voice losing the soft cotton-like warmth each day where the bells pause to chime. We come across rooms full of…

My newsletter- Tiny Letter

Dear all, 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…

A gloomy promise

From Olive Skins

As you all know, I have started this lit magazine especially curated for abstract and surreal poetry which means a lot to me and so I urge you all to head over to this link and read this amazing poetry from a fellow poet. Please like, share and follow if you appreciate the work. https://oliveskins.com/2019/06/head-island-time-and-wave/

Olive Skins is live now

Thank you for such an overwhelming response for my new literary platform “Olive skins”. We have received some really great submissions and soon would be putting up on the site. Meanwhile, please visit the site, follow and check out the amazing poets we have for now. There is a lot more to come. Some real…

Ignorance

What does this speak to you?my lament and a burning tonguea swamp so full of oiled waters I have an eye of the tigera frivolous running starand often I sink in the void of blank noon. They ask me how do I lookwhen I smile and giggle.a silk saree well pleated and insane maybe. I…

A bevy of stained minds

Halt

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…

Darling

Darling, 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…

to defy time

i sit outside in the incensed moon, galloping my swallow droplets of fear, a knuckle breaking knuckle, what’s the fear of this cricket chirping? the modals of life. these hands are burrows of islands, small and large, a heightened hue of black spot. I sit and inhale the ambiguity here, the cracks on the white…

Things swallow space/time

i am made of paper lines, bisecting and colliding like a scavenger Pieces of fire fill my mouth, my mouth of caves and thunder. unabashedly walking like circles of planes, fixed dots often scamper my periphery, holding the deluge of love holding a river of memories. Everything swallows itself- time / people / deaths /…

Poetry and Ink.

No, it did not start with the extraction of bones and marrow. Neither, there was an epiphany. I pluck my eyebrow with a sharp pencil, to check the skin underneath. A bizarre. Mockery of a round square pats my naked back, yelling I have something inside my earlobe too. So, I prick my navel and…