the body is a loose powder
longing through the rooms,
vacant mountains of chills.
bare chest-
a throbbing slitting moan.
the moon kisses and watches over
linguistics of a body.
decoding cacophony of amorphous substance.
unwrapping a flower-
the body is dream, you must say.
it slips and sticks to the wall-
a whorl of pink tongue.
I sit and produce words during the daytime
as I watch over my window for a twig to be stuck to my throat-
instead I have maroon dreams and floral nights -
sore limbs now,
sore words- I shift to a different paradigm,
I shift to lotus from rose.
The arrangement of bones has a purpose now.
the shriek of my body,
a purple loose hanging moon
beneath the toes-
a shriek so wild
stretches through the carcass
I have nothing left to weep now
for the moon has taken a dip inside the river.
I hear my village burning,
and see people sleeping so quietly, so wildly
as if nothing ever happened.
A lullaby lost in a path-
mouthless,
a blue broken hemisphere.
What do I do with my limbs now?
How do I sit and regenerate in a porous night?
I do not believe in new years- a new beginning. I have a different mindset related to it and I do not want to sound gloomy but here I am to know how you all have been?
If I have missed some stunning work, I would love to read it. Let me know what are your goals, plans, habits etc for this month, this year, or anything which fixes in you in a good way. A reminder- that I am not talking about toxic positivity but anything which enhances a soft corner in your heart. Let me know in the comments.
I have given a theme to my this year- “Satisfaction”. I am trying to connect my works with the theme. It’s not a resolution ..because there is nothing like that, I guess. I believe in mindsets and habits rather.
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
Finger's spread through walls
licking the green fear
a moist mayhem spreading onto my chest
chewing the dead society
people give names to my existence
a continous dreary process
I feel oblong and circular
shouts rummaging through the ceiling
fire in my neck,
movements occur as pulse
during the time curtain of this thought
who am I?
A passage or a full stop-
a dreamlike stay
a touch
a vapour
mud..earth..mud..earth.
The mind stays softer, mine
like sweaters in summers,
fresh tangerine juice.
Who am I?
-----------------------------------------------
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
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
Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_soul
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
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.
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.
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
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
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 – USCrimson Skins- POTHI
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.
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
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.)
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.
MY VALIANT SOUL 
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