My poetry is my religion.
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Β ARt-Rajendra Gupta
here is my skin
all naked
for the trees to murmur
a soft blow
a hibiscus to press my earlobe
against the pillow
the handprints of the moon
against my cheek,
here is my skin- sliced as an orange
piquant as sunrays
over the glare of the auburn sky
my skin- a nectar of soft honey sigh
of a mother's soft voice,
https://www.bookswagon.com/book/crimson-skins-devika-mathur-candice/9781951724030
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I know of a lady in white
with a mouth full of promises,
spreading a nocturnal path of flowers,
like a longed kiss above the eye,
a lady that slips in my chest,
within the small rim of my fist,
a sniff so wild, a mouth that dwells on mountains moist.
a lady with a potato peel,
with cardigans and wool on her mahogany table,
entangled like dust in her bun,
mouth covered with layers of smiles and powder,
a moment of purple sanity,
a lady in white that lives in a suburban city,
with marigolds just in her eyes.
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Find my published collection Crimson Skins worldwide.
You can read my collection on Barnes & Noble , too.
I just received my author copies of “Crimson Skins“. If anyone interested in receiving a signed copy of my book please let me know as soon as possible. The books will be available at discount, also along with my signature.
If in case you wish to read the collection sometimes in future, support this fellow artist by adding the book in your cart for future reading.
Available as kindle, worldwide.
Happy reading. Let me know your views.:)
My loneliness spews from the dark curtains
/ fevering beneath a molted lampshade, running
amidst the hanging treehouse, a sharp blue gong of a temple.
Upon the arrival of next month, my tongue develops a sickness,
I sit
I stand
I sit
In a nonchalant abrupt way,
Defying the lucid crispness of nights,
I carry a storm of perforated stars in my womb,
delivering a slick wall of hope, again till the next month arrives.
I have a list of ways in which I take care of myself-
Practicing gratitude till the eyes die out of numb shocks,
Watching the surreal wings of birds, till I am being judged
And the process never ends,
Till the process of death is shining on my iris.
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Buy my poetry collection ‘ Crimson Skins’ here- U.S
And for Indian readers buy your copies here-
The book is available as Kindle as well as on Barnes and Noble, Book Depository.
Happy reading.:)
Thank you for reading my poetry. Hope you all shall cherish my book as well.
You can find my book on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Book Depository etc.
I am thrilled to announce that my book Crimson Skins is now available as a kindle and paperback version on Amazon
Praise for the book-
When Devika, a poet whose work I adore, approached me with an Advanced Readers Copy of her poetry collection, I was beyond thrilled. For her success, as well as the opportunity I got to read her art before it released.
Crimson Skins is divided into six portions: Isolation, Detachment, Liquid Prose (this section is for prose poems), Delirium, Attachment and Revival. It expresses emotions of sorrow, despair and numbness in very beautifully crafted words.
To Devikaβs Instagram fans, I can assure you that you will enjoy this work, which is an elevation of the wonders we have seen so far. With eloquent metaphors and vivid imagery, the pieces are a delight to read. Each poem is heavy and laden with poetic technique, so I would recommend savouring a couple a day, as I did. For me, that really made the reading experience insightful and enjoyable. There are common themes and ideas that flow through the book in a manner that make the poems fit with each other seamlessly.
With masterpieces like Ode to November, Formations and Poetry that Eats Me, this isnβt a publication to be missed!
BUY Crimson Skins on Amazon US – HERE.
buy crimson Skins on Amazon India –Here
with our bodies colliding
this night sings a song of petunia,
a soft spring blooming behind our feet.
A velvet yawn of a quiet afternoon.
The night is a tiny flower
thumping against the sun-kissed breaths
a hum of summer,
a hum of winter.
The mouth dipped in the greasy elbows,
a pathway to the flowering petals.
Silver droplets of water,
the body shrinks like a caterpillar now,
sparkles of the rain,
Too many screams now,
too many abstract bodily postures.
This night delivers a tangled knot of whispers of leaves,
like salt, the whispers rubbing our elbows, quietly.
Hushed.
A season of moist talks.
Buy My collection of poems “Crimson Skins ” here.
For Indian Readers check out Amazon or Bookswagon.
From the longest time I wanted to express my gratitude to all my readers who have showed their continued love and support to my writings. Since a past few months I have not felt the strongest of myself. Especially after my book release. It’s sad to witness people often not cherishing art as it should be. Support and love means a lot for any artists no matter what.
Also, i will be glad if you all can drop the links to your latest post in the comments which I would love to read. I want to catch up with the maximum posts that I can. So, let’s connect?
If still anyone does not know, I have published a collection of poems Crimson Skins which you can find on amazon. com.
for my Indian readers- Booswagon.com ( available at cheaper rates now)
Available on Barnes and Noble, Book Depository as well.
if you are skeptical to read the book or kindle version, read the reviews here .
Love!
The dialogues of life,
cold and tiny
making my bosom collapse at night,
with white nakedness of velvet sky
and the paper sniffing my skin,
a hard yawn of the afternoon,
a dark spot on the skin-
The dialogue of life
to my springs, to my sharp scandal of the eye.
This it. This is she.
A massive sea beneath the hand,
beneath your mouth,
a massive ocean
with softness of mornings
This is she, between the eye of sunsets happening.
Links to buy my poetry collection Crimson Skins - here
Available on Barnes and Noble, Book Depository as well.
I just published my poetry collection Crimson Skins on Amazon. Check it out.
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The night has a soft pattern to dismantle my body<
Quiet a as hushed wound with a flat curvature of a splitting fruit,
my body is a temple to wounds,
a temple to eat things that are fleshy.
The night lamps are soft ointments to soothe this loss .
A state of delirium, a state of despair.
These wounds are like flowers sitting atop my body,
Wounds- a silhouette of a silver limping leg,
a mouth that spreads shade of green fevers.
I have no where else to go now,
I rest my story to the empty nights,
a hollow stone is all that stays.
ALSO, IF ANYONE KNOWS HOW TO SWITCH BACK TO CLASSIC EDITOR PLEASE HELP ME!
my latest work can be read here.https://www.greeninkpoetry.co.uk/poetry-submissions-all/beginning-devika-mathur
