Engulfed in the linen sheets of misery Parched heart and doleful thoughts My heart survives million shades of despair. Layers of melancholy embedded in my chest like the roots of trunk in soil. The lone grief spirals in my nightmares, as lone as a windowsill.
I yearn for the luminosity in my Kohl eyes A wind, long gone and long-lost. The mornings sing tunes of lemon infused melody, songs of starlings and hymns of God. While the nights are dreadful. The tossing and twitching, The process of integrating nerves and disintegrating false hopes. The awful roars brims up my sparse brain to and fro.
My sister leaves my place with a whiff of subtle memories. Her spatial countenance, like face of a new bud, blooming petals and uncut diamonds. My savior in dark alleys and haunted houses, Lone deserts and amazon forests. Sister, save me today for you share my blood. I can’t move. My heart denies to beat. My limbs refuse to shift. This body is now a sea of gothic waves. Zillions of parallel waves colliding in this vaporized structure of bones and flesh. A living ache yearns to hail inside my empty belly, never decaying. Shield me, Protect me! I am this voluptuous anger today. I am the endless storm, birthing a vast sea of gothic waves, and the tides not under the control of moon. A cyclone of three-dimensional anxiety encircles my heart.
Crimson Skins is an astounding and aesthetically beautiful poetry collection written by Devika Mathur. I have known her through primarily WordPress, myvaliantsoul and Instagram where she shares her poetry and prose. Published in many journals and literary magazines, Devika surprises us again with Crimson Skins which entirely emanates her writing styles- surreal, raw, powerful and pleasing. She writes Crimson Skins in five parts: Isolation, Detachment, Delirium, Attachment and Revival.
She writes as if she hums a lullaby. With lines as
“our lotus bodies sinking like air”,
” You kissed me like a newborn baby’s skin”,
“anxiety turns a woman into a liquid flower, again, I am an organ supporting my other organ, all alone”,
she proves she has a penchant for words and metaphors. She hits such right chords at the right time leaving the readers stunned repeatedly.
In section ‘Delirium’, Devika infuses indecipherable imagery in her poetic pieces; fearless and courageous, it seems while reading, the words are her weapon as well as a relief. With pieces like ‘The Sunrise’, ‘Shape-shifter’, ‘Madness’, she portrays an amalgamation of light and dark, the sanity and madness and what not. She writes,
“This body is now a temple, I give birth to seasons now. I speak and something bizarre happens. I wander and a leaf detached itself to fly.”
Her poetry reflects truth in moments. She makes you feel the heaviness in air and emotions. Her words may hit you at times like a bullet and soothe you the other times. On the other hand, she writes sensual and pieces like ‘Talks with night’, ‘To You, Darling’ where you will find yourself afloat in her words.
The mention of mother in few pieces such as ‘Insanity clicks’ & ‘Mother, I see you’ makes her poetry intense and sentimental.
Devika has an impeccable sense of imagery which she proves throughout all the sections. The perk of reading her book is the few pieces were open for multiple interpretations to me. The book ends with the Revival section comprising of many rejuvenating pieces. I recommend readers who are looking to read lifelike moments blended with wild and powerful imagery, and subtle at the same moment.
a letter from the sea, to the sea
the elements it carries:
a bunch of skeleton seashells, the sudden surge of blue waves
waves carrying my scarlet wishes, undone
yearning to reach the sunkissed island
the mellifluous harmonies on the way
waves that wipe my feet and denies to leave like a passionate lover
waves that meet a child’s paper boats
and beholds sacred rituals of my mother
waves that narrate tales, half written and unfinished
waves, a witness to the corpses in disaster
a letter from the sea, to the sea
a silent whisper
a quiet watch
of all the transitions from life to death
The plants reflect the green colored vigor
roots evenly stretched like the diffusion of mint fragrance across the lawn.
We frequently converse
about the sky that proudly stands up across the horizon
and the earth that holds all of us,
and we talk surprisingly about the universe,
that holds the sun, moon and stars.
Mercury too hot to dissolve,
and the moon too cold to breathe.
There is a plant situated at the corner.
As I approach it,
It starts dancing to its tune,
whirls and smiles gently.
I join shyly to its symphony,
I am too shy.
As the blackness of night approaches around all of them,
I hear them whispering to each other;
their secrets and idiosyncrasies.
They calls themselves by names.
More than chlorophyll, more than their green.
I acknowledge a vivacious garden settling to its heartbeats.
I safekeep your effervescent laughs in my heart
the laughs that scatter rain in deserts,
and bring mirth in blank space.
You resemble a dateless blooming flower-
Calla lilies, the petals diffuse in the blood of your heart.
There is a sheet of optimism in your glazing eyes,
and I breathe on these hopes residing in the reflection of your eyes.
I live in it. I dream of it.
You hold my hands,
and I feel a silk touch so gentle and affectionate.
Your touch epitomizes summer lakes,
and winter snowfalls. And I am dwelling on these mellow touches.
It was Café de Corsica we met for the first time
You were engrossed in reading your classic and swallowing your favorite parts and characters.
Coincidentally we wore the same colored crop tops, the color of peaches.
And we smiled looking at each other,
Serendipity they say.
You were a recurring dream to me then,
turned to be a reality now.
And I am enthralled with the felicity.
You and I,
different shades of same color,
galactic stars of a constellation,
and a couple of clouds floating in togetherness.