Things that happened

Picture- mine

Things happened in the past

with a reckless sigh of breath

with madness screaming above the shore.

Things happened between the sky and the Earth.

Climate / Conditions,

Between. Stone. Tank traces,

a poem got saddened,

quenching and reaching,

split and tear.

Like frozen apples and bananas

I hunt them, roll them

from the pines in the beginning.

Snort on them, put them in my veins,

old things,

Forlorn ankles. Bruised. Soft. Slow.

I have songs from the Island,

that I never share.

Things happened between the day and the night.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

P.S- I AM GOING TO READ A LIVE POETRY SOON ON INSTAGRAM ALONG WITH A FEW OTHER TALENTED ARTISTS. LET ME KNOW IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED, I WILL SHARE THE LINK.

Thinking of a Christmas gift? My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson skins

Crimson Skins- India

Tales from the dark

the nights shift incessantly

between the coiled conversation,

about semantics of life

the arrival and departure of distilled solitude

at a point of growling sleep patterns

my words think they are tool

to carve

to emboss a pain onto the strangers arms

about melancholic shifting dreams,

the mosiac vintage art

my nakedness is a cry to the limbs out of balance

they cringe,

they wither away

like soft paper dreams,

crushed under the sinking elbow

again

and

again.

……………………………………………………………..

Thinking of a Christmas gift? My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson skins

Crimson Skins- India

Growing up

I realize I am growing old

with my mother’s home prepared coconut oil,

pressed flowers on the sheets.

I sleep next to her

almost like a ritual now,

I realize

when she mumbles softly in her sleeps

the childhood was different-

It was full of prayers, folk songs, odes, laments.

I see her sleep walking now-

abruptly between the noises in her head

amidst the empty pale rooms,

Circling

Walking

Sitting

I see her sleeping with deep breaths,

a hard name to remember-

I realize, I am growing too old now

to witness the melancholy,

to paint my fingers in the sea of dementia.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Thinking of a Christmas gift? My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson skins

Crimson Skins- India

Falling Dream

I am quiet too often
like the empty hallways,
humming a song already forgotten
with a tilting toe towards the sun
a sigh: pink fingers dipped in pain
a sigh: pink fingers dipped in hallucination
   there is a staircase now
falling beneath my parting head
half towards left,
            half towards right
days whistling on sea waves
about my country in flames,
about my city in illusions

watching a cloud
things fall under the feet now
a complete loss of sense 
tiny leaflets fluttering

green songs that reflect nothing.
the survival becomes a pungent smell often
with absent glares
and a blue sea that is a part of my dream.

My poetry collection is receiving all the love for which I am truly thankful to each one who supported it. I produced my book out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here-

Crimson Skins- US

Crimson Skins- India

Listen to my poem-

Link to buy the copy of my book ‘crimson Skins’

https://www.bookdepository.com/Crimson-Skins-Devika-Mathur/9781951724030?ref=grid-view&qid=1605452763116&sr=1-1

Did you read ‘Crimson Skins’?

In the month of August I published my poetry collection ‘Crimson Skins’ which you can check out on all the major online stores. I am proud of my book, for the love it received.:)

A review-

Crimsons skins is a collection of beautifully written poems and proses by Devika Mathur revolving
around several themes of life brought out with effective metaphors. Devika Mathur is an indie writer
with her works published in various journals all across the globe. The first poem ‘olive skin’ is a
wonderful start to the array of poems, every poem more poignant and detailed than the last one. If you
lack imagination, this would be a tough nut to crack but those with a flowing imagination can indulge in
this ingenious journey with every turning page. I specifically enjoyed the complicated but honest
metaphors that were embedded in her poems. Some of the lines cut too deep, almost making you
devour every word to understand how hauntingly beautiful it is.

– Manya Upadhyay Author of -Every Part of me

You can grab your copies by clicking on the following links and if you do please do not forget to leave a review.:)

https://www.bookswagon.com/book/crimson-skins-devika-mathur-candice/9781951724030

song of skin

 

 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.bookdepository.com/Crimson-Skins-Devika-Mathur/9781951724030?ref=grid-view&qid=1603898418749&sr=1-1

Buy My book

https://www.bookswagon.com/book/crimson-skins-devika-mathur-candice/9781951724030

lady in white

 

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.

Crimson Skins Amazon US

Crimson Skins Amazon India

Crimson Skins Book Depository

Crimson Skins Bookswagon

You can read my collection on Barnes & Noble , too.

Get a signed copy of my book- Crimson Skins

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.

Crimson Skins Amazon Us

Crimson Skins India

Book Depository

Available as kindle, worldwide.

Happy reading. Let me know your views.:)

A few facts about Loneliness

credits-pinterest

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.:)