poetslosther

[poetslosther]

a conversation with death [journal, 4:39pm, friday, 27 september 2019]

#poetry #prose #free verse #shesapoem #poetslosther #loss #thetypewriter #takealifeatteatime #teatime

[poetslosther]

Beth

The Girls (5/5)

#Illustration #myart #character design #inked girls #Indian Art #india #digital sketch #digital portrait #digital drawing #beth

[poetslosther]

Charlie

The Girls (4/5)

#Illustration #my art #digital sketch #digital portrait #inked girls #character design #indian art #india #charlie

[poetslosther]

Ivy

The Girls (3/5)

#Illustration #my art #character design #digital portrait #digital sketch #indian art #india #inked girls #ivy

[poetslosther]

Ria 

The Girls (2/5)

#Illustration #my art #character design #digital portrait #digital sketch #indian art #india #inked girls #ria #art #sketch #krita

[poetslosther]

Vikram

The Girls (1/5)

#Illustration #my art #digital sketch #digital portrait #character design #indian art #india #vikram #lgbtq #art #sketch #krita

[poetslosther]

The Battle of Talikota (1565)

‘Most of popular history of Deccan India begins with Shivaji, but the Deccan into which Shivaji arrived was already a fascinating place, populated by remarkable men and women who all claimed for themselves the esteem of posterity.’ - Rebel Sultans, Manu S Pillai

The stories of the rebellious Deccan Sultanate are rarely reiterated, least of all those of the rayas of Vijayanagara. 

#digital sketch #illustration #history #referenced

[poetslosther]

#so lost tho #sketch #illustration #art #color

[poetslosther]

The Artist’s Baby

He ran his stubby fingers through the rubber shreds, making loops or throwing tiny fistfuls at the cat. She continued to furiously erase an imperfect ocean wave as he played on and on with the ruins of his mother’s art.

#spilledink #shesapoem #art #poetslosther

[poetslosther]

inked suit.

#nonbinary #genderqueer #sketch #inkedsuit #art #illustration #lgbtq #portrait

[poetslosther]

Her accent, as smooth as the words that rolled off her tongue flawlessly, intertwined perfectly with her dangerously accurate diction. Her words of Oxfordian ethnicity were strong enough to uproot the stubborn stalks of naivety.

But oh, when she cries, she cries in malayalam.

#shecriesinmalayalam

[poetslosther]

she loved me only

She did not say “I love you” to anyone. She never has. She did not throw it around like I did. Rather, she preserved it in the depths of her heart, and opened it rarely. So rarely that I trembled with disbelief when she opened it for me. 

#shelovedmeonly

[poetslosther]

and with the sun on her face she glowed. and like the dust he glowed with her. and together they stood. only, not together.

#thebrokenfingersofsolace #she #her

[poetslosther]

The bitterness of my tears Is the same as your heart. And every time it rolls down my eyes, jubilantly does it blend into my lip, letting me know how sharp your decisions can be And how blunt my resistance is. Though my love for you is deeper than the sea.

@poetslosther

#thetypewriter #thebrokenfingersofsolace

[poetslosther]

she was sunshine. and he, a speck of dust. and together they haunted the depths of mornings and table tops.

[poetslosther]

Her Laced Pink Frock

#1 We both sat quietly as her hair fell over her eyes. They covered her starlit soul, they covered her beauty, they covered her long eyelashes, and her beautiful thick eyebrows.

#2 And we sat quietly as my hands trembled between my thighs, and he shook miserably, right beside me. My very hands that once clutched her fingers as we walked by the beach every Friday. He, who always shook at the mere thought of her crossing the road alone.

#3 But we both sat quietly as my lips quivered, holding back tears. My very lips that yelled at her for breaking the dinner plates.

#4 But I sat quietly, just as I did when she slept on my lap, and the lace on her pink frock danced with her breath.

#5 I sat quietly, just as I did when she wept over her ragged teddy bear, its eyes glistening with her tears.

#6 I sat quietly, just as I did when she graduated and left home, leaving me with trembling hands and quivering lips.

#7 And I still sat quietly, as they dragged my daughter away, and her father cried on and on, right beside me.

[poetslosther]

you’re like a book

and i’m still stuck on the Prologue 

i don’t understand this book

but i do know it’s great.

i want you to let me know who you really are.

but don’t let me reach the last page yet,

your mystery

is probably what i adore the most about you.

#eyeseahope #spilled ink #papersweet #thetypewriter