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Old Poem III
Do you remember the Eighteenth dream,where genesis and ruin through a rose convened– that day, our rekindled spirits in twilight wept,drunk with the rapture’s limbic, sweet attire,and your breath, half heaven’s, half where sorrow slept,bore me through Paradise, then down…
Priya Atiyolil
Priya Atiyolil is an American mystic poet, short story writer, artist, engineer, mathematician, finance professional, and businesswoman.
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Jyestha
He’s a hollow manstuffed barrenupstairs from his neighbor, Melancholyand a mile away from his cousin, Gratification He’s a hollow manhe feels for nothingbecause nothing. He’s…
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Anna Karenina
Desire is this forlorn hymnthat tolls and tolls before the knell. © Priya Atiyolil 2022
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A Metronome
The one who subdues the raw, unspoken tearwill wander lost, in lust, and in fear;to find is not for thosewho run from what is pure,…
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Old Poem II
I have a blood-shedding eye from the rim of that arched brow,of which the world sees many seditionsand of which I see my paradise and perdition– I’m the keeper of that prince of Benaraswho will soon flit away from his…
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Old Poem I
Let our cataclysms usher in the dawn and may the miasmas never brood nor spawn. Let imagination scale its fenceand absolve itself of its unyielding…
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Life
Where Zephyrs are to birththe Orage is to sojourn and Expiation is to death. Z.O.E. © Priya Atiyolil 2016
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The First Waters – I
Beneath the waves and behind the blind,the Kingdom waits, unmeasured and unconfined;its throne is coral, carved of shattered suns,and its law is the tide that…
