The tropical mind you loved,
the charm of my heart you carried
shall be in the oblivion sky someday,
lost like scattered clouds,
The naivety of my soul,
the pureness of my childlike laughter
shall be hidden in the dark musty rocks,
so deep and exceptional;
that it will become untraceable
to find the original carvings
of my caricature.
I am no summer breeze. Neither I am a warm blanket to provide that yearning, surreal warmth.
My own soul is shivering, heart sees cracks here and there, Irrevocable my tears are on this pillow.
Fierce, ghost-like shadows perching on my knee joints,
It hurts. It hurts my paradise dreams.
And you say I am ignorant about the moon and its dark howl.
I have been keeping busy off late, Writing and meeting deadlines and then drafting the manuscript for my next novel has drenched my energy almost. My debutant poetry book can be checked here, in case if you find it appealing. Well, I have been writing less on WordPress as I am trying writing various writings online and submitting it to numerous magazine which is a new deal for a change now.
Writing here is always a pleasant feeling as I get to see numerous wonderful writings and you people leave constructive comments always and my blog is extremely precious to me! But for a change, it would be nice if I can interact elsewhere too. Let’s see how will that go as I know it’s a painful path but then C’mon who said being a writer is all roses?
Still, we have to try and learn and with that positive note, I would like to thank the editor of Indian Periodical magazine who considered my poetry good enough to publish in his marvellous magazine.
Here is the link,
http://indianperiodical.com/2017/08/a-daunty-star/
Peace out!
Image credits- Pinterest
Creating maps, a shadow of present and future,
I am scarlet, red ball of hope,fire with golden skin drooling in my cerebrum.
I hold your forlorn secrets of love, euphoria
Thoughts of tranquility, bewilderement.
The tassels of my veins drop from the abyss to your cascading voice
Voice of unheard owl,
Voice of stale rum from your creaking cabinet
Hear, the roar, then circle around the chords of fire and I shall put my sonder finger,
The soft baby fur in your twinings of eye
I may melt away, like the hot wax after the flamboyance of my stainless charm you see
That flickers on the epidermis of a new born child extending from it’s arm
Hanging to the knee joint of it’s granny.
Her skin, my revealation, my reflection.
You tell your clandestine tales as shackles to me, yet mingling in the soft comfort of
My nemesis-the Moon.
Curl your spirit, trim the patchy mud
Produce bouquet of roses
A potion of clairvoyance.
A coffin to immortal souls.
Jump on my palpitating marks of grace,
Swallow my gifted praise
Swallow the mercury,
The titanium I wear
the caress of my toes tickling your cold winters shrug
Embracing the pits you produced
The heinous acts of disgust
The conundrum play.
My vigor holds marks of indelible faith,
An alacritous Sirimiri
To compose the monotonous dry days
My nectar, sweet honey-suckle home to wanderes, the bandits, the truth holders
Producing a teacup of auburn rays
An array of shimmery light
The colossal rhythm on fingers
A dandelion kiss.
-myvaliantsoul.
From my left toe, I bleed shouting the years of constant wound,
harsh numb, dead leaves hanging from my inner ear
The half lit candle smirks on my shrinking
Bedsheet, that lacks you.
With the sway of pendulum I count my hearbeat, hearing the drop of water from
My lips to your sturdy chest
Pour the breeze of mountain chills on my unkissed shoulder,
Then stroke the brush from the galaxy and paint my body with auburm kisses
Play clircles, squares creating a beguiling art on my naval
Where the earthquake is created rupturing new glossy shoots, wandering
For the further smoke of your tranquilizing face of love.
Under the clear skies with pearls of white words,
I knit my word into my emotion, repeat the process
brush, brush, and blink, blink.
Taking the ecstasy onto my teeth, I feel the caress of my saddest lines,
put it on my fragile white shoulder,
then cut my words and swallow the ink,
this is how I started Poetry.
With a blank space between my fingers,
with a crooked faith,
my breast was swollen with fire, the unflinching desire
thumping my murky pen, producing a river of composed mind,
producing the glitters of fairy dust
this is how I started Poetry.
image credits- my valiant soul
Time: An acerbic motionless protest cling to my feet,
abstruse it lies on my face disguised as the
murky hair-strand, defining today’s black solitude
whiffing tomorrow’s grey death.
Friable snippets of my today’s sorrow still exist,
lying on my wet sheet of the chopped pillow
as the translucent water drops on my oak tree,
Dissonant hangings still sing bliss
while my insipid dulcet arms cross each other in anguish.
I see a black star, death perhaps?
I see a white star, sufferings perhaps?
Convulsions of betrayal paralysis my lower half
in the basket of crooked watermelon slices.
I knead the vacuum of Orion, stepping into the loophole
of the web of time, knots constrain my teeth,
Now, time halts inside my empty stomach
echoing the bulge of a lump of void dust.
Brushing the remnants onto my airy skin,
The striking of pendulum in my upper eyelid
gives the aftermath to a newborn me.
©my valiant soul
