the yellow stark trees
smiling through the purple grass
with a nocturnal tether to hold us
US- a portrait of clay and dust
full of small longings,
growing and congregations bending
Late autumn, and at night,
we melt-
melting through skins and teeth
through fever and blossoms-
We speak of ripped earth
and a few things more.
Autumn, a kiss of lovers.
-------------------------------------------------
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it has been an year since my book published and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
sharing links-
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
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Tag Archives: writer
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 always feeling almost numb and lost.
Meanwhile, I am writing this to ask a favour- as you all know I have a published book Crimson Skins” published last year, I need to keep it working too! I need your support. Please share, get a copy or just share this post if you can’t get a copy of my poetry bok. I have worked really hard for that one and it took almost 3 years to make through the entire publication process. If you love my surrealistic style, work, please consider getting a copy.
A kind friend of mine has something to say about the book-
Crimson Skins has a variety of work any reader will enjoy. The book isn’t basic and will be able to go the extra mile for years to come. I will be so bold as to say many of the pieces featured in it has the staying power of words by a few greats such as Sylvia Plath, Adrienne Rich, and Virginia Woolf. It ends just as it began, with an intense piece of writing showcasing the writer’s talent
Book review by- tre
Here are the links-
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Crimson-Skins-Devika-Mathur-ebook/dp/B08GCWK4D5/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=crimson+skins&qid=1631955409&sr=8-1
Much love
Devika.
My newsletter- Here you get some mindful thoughts, classic poetry, exercises etc weekly!
My body underneath
You- a nectar of the moon,
gliding through the gleaming sheets of orange moans
atop my waist
that slips through your feet
and a long stare-
a reverie of blooming seasons
horizontal touches of galaxy,
A walnut cracks open,
a fidget through the bones
a sweet summer song- soil, soil,soil
I see raindrops through my belly, now-
a grasshopper twirling through the toes
you- a carrier of everything that my eyes sews
my body that wraps underneath.
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it has been an year since my book published and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
sharing links-
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
Hear my Podcast episode-as I talk about creativity.
Dear Readers,
Hear me talk to the adventurous soul Petra on the recent episode for her Podcast that she calls “Erratic Hat Podcast”. I talk about creativity, the writing process and about publishing process etc. You can check out the podcast and her blog here.
Also, I have changed my newsletter title now- it is called – “The Weekly Shine“- Try reading the newsletter archive here and if you don’t like you don’t subscribe, it’s that easy!
I curate classic poetry, mindful activities, artwork all that for free.
A landscape-
the rivers that speak of us, warmer bodies nectars of jasmine and hibiscus- a lady from photograph, biting a strange loneliness sitting onto her bosom a strange memory of distilled longings- a lady that sulks and pronounce everything watery, dreams of wildfire and river-beds I travel through her caricature, her oblong drifting fingers, eyes of pain and despair- eyes- a mirage of limbs too, I watch her and think of this pregnant sky day and night. She- a soliloquy od soft pastel dreams. ------------------------------ Read the newest newsletter here- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
Blue velvet sighs
Body of coral sunsets slipping underneath,
and I think of your curvatures, silhouettes of water- lotus
a heavy mass of flower spinning upon the moon,
a daydream and slow night
slow as far riverbeds, moaning
quick and slow.
the fingernails hide a slippery naked climate,
fermented by the shiver and body on body
dirty tablecloths:
dirty walls, kitchen sinks melting away
melting like the throbbing blood
blood: so warm and luscious now
as a river riding a star.
I squat in the evening, on the fresh, frozen floor
like a rose, budding and blooming.
The pink air laughs and shifts incessantly
between our pastel love, our growing thick bites
the hollows of tongues
dancing.
Mermaids in heaven.
I stare and stare and become the large junction
(Bodies rhyming)
Longings
Longings My days are cryptic with mellow songs sunflowers pressed on my bosom, on my chest. My days are usually full of lies and loneliness with a wildflower travelling through my veins, Where a mind refuses to sleep, a haunted manor of poetry painted carpets a garden of lover’s daydream At sunsets I visit temples, where my sins could fade away a little along with the leaves of my hope along with the tree that grew along with me. I sometimes wish to marry that tree of hope, the one that nurtured the oblivious lips of dull moon, filling it with moonflowers filling with hanging creases of paper lanterns, a fading memory wilt often. Somehow Somewhere Where my body trembles like a low music, a sister’s ritual of love affairs: I am not sure what do I long the most the memories or the moments? ---------------------------------- Please checkout my collection- Crimson Skins now on Amazon, Pothi and kindle. It will mean a lot to me. Crimson skins – US Crimson Skins- POTHI
To all the dead trees-
swim across
attest the pain
sink into the lake of grief
watch and convulse,
the narration-
the blue oblong face of emotions-
it disappoints me each day,
you and your flattery
my small body,
small, petite chin
that thrusts no life anymore.
Watch a face again,
think about it,
the slippery texture
grains allover the body
blurred, overgown opinions
I am sad flower today, trying to be the moon
but the moon is always sad,
I tell myself to watch the moving crowd
to feel the concrete tree
and the still landscape of stagnancy exists
a pill of loss and convulsions all day long.
-----------------------------------------
I have a book- Crimson skins. Read it if still you have not. on kindle, pothi etc.
I am happy to announce I have a poem in this beautiful anthology-
Hecate Magazine.
Arbitration-
Scissors often draw a diagram On my cold slender hands, A light peeks in, as if to tell something new. A light A hope. A hiccup that stops another hiccup. This light, a soft tune to my ears. What do I consider this art of life? A hummus stain on my sequin dress. A quiet noise, inside my vase body. It's interruption. If a thing dies, let it be. Let the hand sink. Let the light go. Let things go. Get my book here- Crimson Skins
To my readers- thank you
I am writing this post to express my gratitude to all those who recently bought a copy of my book ‘Crimson Skins‘ and left such heartfelt messages, emails etc about the impact of my book. My poetry collection was written during the more coarse phase of my life and I am glad, you all loved it.
It’s a request if you have read it please leave a review on amazon/ goodreads as it helps indie authors like us.
“she entraps the sky in her fingernails” (A goddess)– (From my collection.)
You can buy your copies here-
Crimson skins- US
thankyou.
The Awakening-
If I could,
I would evaporate through your mouth
a doorawy to dreams
and tiny dots-
wild mushrooms dancing atop our bodies
as if we have trapped the moon in our eyelids-
eyelids that do not utter a word,
flowers on terrace,
static noises
we scratch water with nails,
dirt on our palms
to know the film of our memory
floating in the lake
through breasts, heaviness
and Autumn that still looks upon us and smile.
smile to see us vacant
and full, altogether.
An awakening of God's music
temple bells- gongs
negating everything else/
but this stays
this blooms.
---------------------
Please checkout my collection- Crimson Skins now on Amazon, Pothi and kindle. It will mean a lot to me.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
The sad picture-
It’s about us. Our static atmosphere which keeps changing its dimension. Through the clandestine mouths of river and a dark cloud. At times, there is nothing but a tainted shadow our love growing a thick layer of fungus. We grow, anyway.
We grow and talk about the leftover meals, the swollen flowers of our garden, everything falling apart. Hush! We do not speak of the silence that lingers our throat sitting like a huge wound on our chest. The sad, forlorn shackles of stark grief. What goes beyond is treacherous, as if. A landscape dipped in the shades of sunsets and piquant feelings, a leaf coiling into a serpent. A flower wilting into a moth, things happen, just like that.
The screams are a reflection of an unslept sky. The dying women in neighbours. The abhorrence that is a moisture to the nature. Nature- it often mocks our grilled love and considers it a green fever. We grow anyway. We grow through the carcass, a catastrophe of splitted existence. Through kitchen sinks, chairs and through people, we grow like melted wax. A sharp body shedding its skin through and through.
Please checkout my collection- Crimson Skins now on Amazon, Pothi and kindle. It will mean a lot to me.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
Summer-
The collarbone cracks open,
a petal of your name,
a thick cloud of lust
sounds that speak only of splitted grass
I see you
and I think oh 'home'
honey-suckled touch,
tongues:
tongues interwined into sheets of desire
of lukewarm, misted talks
about us and hopes to stay.
It is Summer now,
a season of orange hope,
golden grass grinning through the wind.
It is Summer.
I am inhabitated by the scent of it
that twirls my skin and turn it into faces of love.
I am a Summer-myself
bleeding through my cold sphere
daylight:
water on my toes
a gossip you all want to hear.
I am Summer for you-
for you to cling onto
for you to breathe the scent.
I am stoked to announce that recently Indie Blu(e) Published its another beautiful anthology Through the Looking Glass– which includes my poem about Mental Health as the theme was the same. I urge you all to check out the same here .
Have you read Crimson Skins yet?
If not please check it out on Kindke, Pothi, Amazon etc.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
sense of staying- a poem
Hi, Welcome to my poetry world yet again. I guess we all have no better solution rather than staying positive and hopeful. I am glad to feel this positive vibe yet again after all that India has been through and is still dealing. I am trying to do as much as I can and that includes taking care of my mental health as well.
Sharing a poem. Let me know your views and in general how life has been treating you all?:)
And maybe this shall never end-
Here, I rest my palms along with the stars,
honey-suckled,
twigs of sunsets
hoping for tree of wishes
a spoon of lukewarm winters
which sits beside my small mind
a roar of summer breeze,
producing so much that only my heart can see,
and maybe this shall never end-
yet I long for coral sweaters,
grass
attachment layered sky
above and below-
the dreamcatchers
in the grainy rain.
Our mouths unravelling
and spitting a tongue of hibiscus growing
scrubbing:
scrubbing all the sins away
lights spinning- gold,
poppies in a bathtub
and leaves fluttering across our bodies-
we want this,
a human touch
a human being, indeed.
If you love reading my poems and works you might enjoy my book Crimson Skins. I can’t believe it is soon going to be an year for my book and each time I hold my baby, I am choked with pride. You can get your copies on Kindle, Amazon, Pothi etc.
sharing links-
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
Jasmine
The sniff
lingers
between the hills and the mountain
a sniff to overcome a dismay,
a snippet of a saint
through the threads of fragile life.
Jasmine- a floral drop of snow
now between my knuckles,
rubbing
against my pillow
a 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 voice
an elastic memory
of tales and despair.
Hi, Do check out my published book, available on Kindle also. Let me know what you think of this one?
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
My newsletters are filled with poetry, worksheets, mindfulness etc.
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
a thing of loss
Hi, Thankyou for sending your prayers through my last poem. I am reading poetry again and getting to Art as it keeps me going.
I am coming back to my writing my poems after a while
a lot changed during these times.
(Pandemic- second wave)
My yellow tree remained un-watered all this while,
humans burnt,
relatives, families submerged with tears/ fears
see my poem has started to rhyme, even.
Keep on reading
you will sense no sensibility
a bunch of lost flowers now
archaic, frenzied-
razor sharp like tongue of cries
bodies once warm now muted,
cold, without a twin flame.
the situation has become small and painful
like a setting sun, only that it is not beautiful.
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