family – insight07's blog

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.
•
~insight07
•

Check out my new book- Sun On My Hands!
https://wp.me/p5gmIC-1a7

•
Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

Familiarity

My sense of familiarity with the world feels strange.
Sometimes, it extends to cities at once.
Sometimes, it is the journey between 2 cities.
Sometimes, it is a conversation with a face that is changing.
Sometimes, it is the way a cushion is placed in my room.
Sometimes, it is the smell of people and the way they keep their hair, the movement of their limbs.
Sometimes, it is with the blue sky; the dome of our heads similar.
Sometimes, it is my own two shoes sitting outside in the cold
Against a cold door.
Sometimes, it is the tiny spider that webs inside me, still unknown to my anatomy-
Hair, bones, movements
A pile of paper crushed in a corner, a mountain against a sky
So blue, so blue
•
~insight07

Check out my new book- Sun On My Hands!
https://wp.me/p5gmIC-1a7

•
Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

Ice

The taste of these days
Is ice on my tongue.
I swallow the melting pieces
My neck feeling numb.
Chills run down my spine
Pins and needles
Prick my fingertips.
An ache spreads from my jaw to my head
All across the bowl of my brain.
Tiny fishes shiver in the cold waves
That has entered the mindspace
Drifting, drifting away
To a particular thought that’s bleeding me-
What will be?
•
~insight07

Read more in my book- Sun on my Hands!
Grab your copy now (USA only) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C5763NWL

Saturday

Saturday is not a Saturday anymore but
The number of spiders crawling under my skin
A chair is not just for me but the weight of thoughts
That just sit inside of me.
No light, artificial or from a device
Is ever bright enough.
If I don’t have the wall up close
Very close
Touching my eye lid, I feel I will fall apart.
Structures becomes liquid and I am drenched in my room.
It is cold, my fingers are burning- red at the tips
Match sticks
Burning all at once, I don’t have enough air in my only two lungs
Isolated in my chest, to put the fire out.

I feel my hair, it is soft.
Maybe the only part of my anatomy I take care of
Consistently-
I cannot fall apart or let them fall.
Slowly, but shakily.
Pretense of a steady past.
•
~insight07

Access prose and poems in my book, “Dreaming in a Fish Bowl”!

Link- https://rb.gy/nbxljh

•
Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.