esthesia

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Tag Archives: poem

Send me your sky, I’ll send you mine
Poetry / Writing

Send me your sky, I’ll send you mine

Posted on December 26, 2020 by esthesiamagazine • Leave a comment

Featured Image by Vijay Sarathy I’ll send you my sky framed in the pixels of my phone,  and you send me yours, promise me that you will, so that we can try to find the same details in both the  pictures like it’s a  puzzle from kindergarten. I want to know which cloud  is from … Continue reading →

notes on life or the lack of it
Poetry / Writing

notes on life or the lack of it

Posted on July 17, 2020 by esthesiamagazine • Leave a comment

Featured Artwork by Tara Anand This is a poem. This is a poem about a poem – about all the poems, clogged in my mind, entrapped by my mind – lurking beneath the cracks and crevices of my mind – incessantly toiling – to come out and see the light of this laptop screen This … Continue reading →

Forgotten Monologue of Fine Things
Poetry / Writing

Forgotten Monologue of Fine Things

Posted on July 5, 2020 by esthesiamagazine • Leave a comment

This is about reclaiming yourself as something that holds value even after being lost, broken, and quintessentially forgotten. Vintage here has been used as a metaphor for holding value. can you imagine that one day we cease to exist and all that’s left behind suddenly becomes of value maybe it’s the watch that your dad … Continue reading →

The Cloud
Writing

The Cloud

Posted on June 8, 2018 by esthesiamagazine • 1 Comment

I open my eyes to the sound of birds chirping, alongside that of a lawn being mowed a few feet away from my open window. My phone blares, telling me it’s time to wake up and make the most of my day. I turn it off and get out of bed, ready for some coffee … Continue reading →

The first red moon
Writing

The first red moon

Posted on October 31, 2017 by esthesiamagazine • Leave a comment

It was sobering finding out getting to know   that things were better before the night of the red moon   when you became nothing but a line on my palm when you dug an indent into each hand   endlessly plagarised words drank from each other’s glasses battering the man resting in a sepulchre … Continue reading →

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