poetry

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,

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

poetry · prose · published

lady in white

𝔽𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤 on Instagram: “Pendants and chains  By @heyhegia ✨”

 

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.
—————————————————————

Find my published collection Crimson Skins worldwide.

Crimson Skins Amazon US

Crimson Skins Amazon India

Crimson Skins Book Depository

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

poetry · prose · published

A few facts about Loneliness

mandifaye.com
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.:)

poetry

Season of moist talks

reading a book is the most relaxing part of my day
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.

poetry

The dialogue of life-

PraDe (@pradejewels) • Instagram photos and videos


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.
poetry

The Dance

aesthetic | cute, tumblr и aesthetic

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 tulips
You have a mind of sunrise.

Look, do not overthink
for you must destroy this marble hour.
Hop!
Do not stare and evolve with me
before you learn to pronounce L O V E.

After all, Queer is this ecstasy!

poetry · prose · published · Uncategorized

Releasing this 2020- Crimson Skins

I am more than thrilled to announce that my second collection of poems will be soon released this year. “Crimson Skins” deals with life journey, loss, isolation, etc. I have stayed honest throughout my poems and this took almost all of my energy. If you are fond of my writing style I urge you to keep your eyes wide open for it. This book is an outcome of my 1.5 years of sweat, tears, and ink.

I hope you all stay excited as I publish this book with Indie Blu(e) Publishing. This amazing book cover has been designed by my talented friend and artist Henna Johansdotter.

 

Thank you for always reading and supporting me.

Devika

poetry

Raindrops

thesensualdominant“Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks....

we slumber through days
of moist observations
of things unspoken of.
An organ. A transparency..
there are things beyond our two nutty eye
to cling a mouth full of love,

Raindrops
that cascade through my fragile shoulders
through my heavy white bosom

that
speaks of you
speaks of sin
speaks of white emptiness
raindrops sweet and soft
unravels a story of mother’s womb.
so much beyond and so much less.

What do I ask for now?
peace or lust from you?
A landscape. A delusion.
I write this to pleat my unevenness
to fool you into believing
about our eloping mad love.


Hi, Hope you all are doing well. Let me know how did you enjoy my this poem in the comments below.


poetry

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 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 people
ordinary chirpings and shadow.

hallucinations or reality?

Those were the days of love.


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poetry

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 into my work at your mailbox.

You won’t be disappointed.

You just have to subscribe to the mailbox and you can enjoy different poetries while sipping on your favourite tea and maybe anytime you wish to read. I still will be hanging onto my this platform along with my Instagram, twitter handle.

https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul

thanks.