The frailty of a dark night
A leaf holding its green as it droops to the human touch
A pluck and it’s over.
Barks of endless trees in a crown
Over a moon that pulls the tide to robe
Its light beauty.
A lonely frail wave lulls a lonely mind to sleep
Thoughts become oceans then clouds
A reign that lasts for a few hours
Its light beauty comes down
To the leaf
To the forest.
I am where I am
A fish in a fishbowl
That could have been an ocean
That could have been a cloud-
Or maybe just a drop.


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

Pixelated Lifestyle

Boundaries fade, no bricks no walls
Straight lines curve into horizons
Thoughts break and fall into the abyss
Clouds gather in a waterfall
All of me is all of the world
A collection of used air, stale breaths
Bones shiver and quiver in the cold
Sun sinks into the other whole.
Lines run a different direction
At the centre is a mind.
Parallel lives in the fabric of time
Muted existence in a pixelated lifestyle.


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

Straight spine

With a cracked bone in my body
I walk a mountain a time
Emotions have piled
Hours have piled
Time flows a muddy river.
They say hard work breeds a garden-
Autumn seems to have descended.
Warm colours trapped in leaves cry
Withering trees stand with a straight spine.
A white sky is a mirror
White sea shares its light-
Sun is melting in the over heated..
Cup of water that I drink each night.


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.


We make homes in people
Only to leave.
All the memories sit safe
Collecting dust on shelves and desks
That have no use now.
Letters are stored, ink and paper have felt thumbs move on them a countless time.
The walls do not hear laughter anymore
Windows are not open anymore
Sunlight pours on the brown grass,
Plants that had names have died long before.
Promises sit in the fridge, stale, expired and cold
So cold.
How do you warm yourself again?

I am a nation of such empty homes
People come, only to go
But somehow, the ever rising hope of a human-
I keep hoping for more.


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.


Sometimes I think I have lost the ability to create.

There is a lot inside of me that needs a release

Sticky feelings that shouldn’t exist at all

Thoughts I have thought, a little too much

Imageries and sensations that have no place in me

Concerns and worries about which I can do nothing about

And then there’s the multitude of questions

That plague my ever curious mind.

I feel like a full moon that is waning-

A sliver of sanity remains within me.

Sometimes I think I have lost the ability to create.

My words in conversations feel repeated and defeated

Activities seem like a burden- there is no originality.

Is there even a thing called originality?

Or is everything a repeat- a cycle

One in which we were born too late.

Maybe then, there is no creation

Only renditions

And my life can be a permutation combination of the many lives past.

All concerns aside-

This prose above is an original.


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.


Birds and squirrels with cute teeth
Balloons and art with paints three
Long lost friends and random birthdays
Crafted mental health and bad days
Products for elbows, hair, knees
Outings to cafes in times like these
Archived posts from yesteryear today’s
Branded posts on my pay day
Planets and spirals of dust
Emotional quotes with an aesthetic photo is a must.
Comics about cute little animals, celebration
And then, some posts from my organisation.
Fan posts and kdrama fan art
All synchronised to the trending beat

I spend hours looking at these useless posts
I am a fish caught in the hook of an ungrateful host-
Can we stop with the mental manipulation, Instagram?
I think I have forgotten how to spend my own time-
Is my own time mine?


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.


The cost of being ordinary
There is no glory
No attention, no remembrance
No award kept aside for you
Waking hours are punishing, but no one can see the struggle
Each day work is considered minimal, even if it is a mountain to you
You become a grain of sand, while some become the stars in the sky
Clouds shadow and rain on you, and you just take it.

The reward of being ordinary
Is that among the various constraints and boundaries of people
In the tiny spaces of each day
You get to be you.

But at the end of everything, I ask
What is the point of being ordinary
If only the extra ordinary are the treasures of mankind?


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.


These silences are laden with meanings

These silences are not

Silent within me.

Words fail me as I become

A being who feels too much

In moments that mean

Nothing at all.


Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.