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-

Jasmine

The snifflingersbetween the hills and the mountaina sniff to overcome a dismay,a snippet of a saintthrough the threads of fragile life.Jasmine- a floral drop of snownow between my knuckles,rubbingagainst my pillowa cry for dreams,a lotus shaped prayer.Jasmine- a quiet nostalgic hope,prayers about fairies and daydreams,The sun and the waters,echoing wool of the sunburn.The sniff-my mother’s… Continue reading Jasmine

Open Screams

Hi! I have not written here since last month. As you all know, India is dealing with the second treacherous wave of pandemic and somehow i managed this . While my parents are still recovering my heart goes out to every life lost, every soul that departed too early. It will take time to accept… Continue reading Open Screams

Understanding Poetry

How much is too much? Inosculate, squalid words on your sheet the layers that speak of my heavy mind are supposed to be easy to ingest? How? The air is as pellucid as my eye of misery. but the words do not stop here the words do not stick just to the head there is… Continue reading Understanding Poetry

no space to love

Napowrimo#12 the poppies won’t die tonight I sense the drama through the bleeding faces again the parched vase of you and me the horizon of us- a hallowing question to that equation the fields seem opaque, dreary, with white sunflowers I run and burn to sniff your presence to sniff the existence the love equation… Continue reading no space to love

Untitled.

Dear readers,How have you been all?Even though I write my poetry and words and keep on doing so many various projects to help the writing community and people in generalwhy is there a sudden urge to relax a lot? I agree I need to take a pause. I believe in slow yet productive growth but… Continue reading Untitled.

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 body

The flesh is incoherentthe nuance of this body is sandall things that sit inside my bones, tremblelike sounds unheard,from the Indian mountains it begins to crackpiece by pieceas if it is the wail of timeas if there is no neck to this body.Humans- all that they love, sinks beneath,somewhere.And my eyes become wrinkled pomegranate seedsawash… Continue reading The body

This Moment

Inspired by- Eavan Boland A balcony. Brewed tea. Things are getting ready. a neighbour folds her dried out clothes. Another vendor strolls across the streets. Oranges and papayas , he screams. Stars and moon, things become raw at night. Opaque tunes of the clouds distorting, things pause as the sun sets in. This moment, a… Continue reading This Moment

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

Countless

How many times do I shift my bodily postures? from a room so cold, so absolute, to a room full of hopes. There is a never -ending system of dying things in here. I move like a ‘banjaran’ wishing for dead leaves, painted auburn sky sunlight hitting my pale, loose skin, I move to hide… Continue reading Countless

On Dreams

The dreams have started to spread thudding under my chin and elbow the dance of a song, a bridge of warm laughter. We lick each other in warm oil and nights, wet sheets and trees of hope A final leap and a levitating scratch on skin, it crawls under my slippery neck the loose, aging… Continue reading On Dreams

lady in white

  I know of a lady in whitewith 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… Continue reading lady in white