Madhuri Pavamani's Blog, page 3

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 22

THE PURPLE ONE

dearly beloved

we are gathered here today

to get through this thing

called life

and get through it

did we ever

dancing

sexing

grooving

to his beats

his words

his rhythm

his funk

Prince

you sexy motherfucker

you taught me

about keeping it real

honoring myself

being badass

I learned

about sex and being sexy

about masturbation

and self-love

I wanted to be

the girl who could

play every instrument

write all the songs

control her destiny

I fell in love

with sex fiends

sex shooters

nasty girls

and you

Another piece of

my childhood

died today

the one in

skin tight pants

a cut out ass

five inch heels

and all kinds of sex appeal

I’m sad

it’s total fuckery

but I’m gonna

dance it out

all sexy and shit

wear some purple

get my Prince on

be easy

you dope ass

sexy motherfucker

be easy

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds and my writing promptress Jena Schwartz – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.

It’s Official – THE KEEPER SERIES Is Coming

It was announced bright and early this morning so I can finally share the news I’ve been sitting on for a few weeks now

THE KEEPER SERIES

is coming

in 2017

That’s right.

No lie.

Dutch and Juma and all of their dark, raw sexiness will be published early next year as part of a three-book deal I signed with Monique Patterson of St. Martin’s Press and their SWERVE imprint, brokered by my fabulous brilliant amazing tireless agent, Kimberly Brower of Rebecca Friedman Literary Agency.

Check out this morning’s announcement in Publisher’s Marketplace:

Pinch me. Now. Because I really cannot believe after all this time and all these words and all the blood sweat and tears, this is actually happening. It’s surreal.

That is until I think about my deadlines and editing and all the words that need to make it onto the paper by the end of the year – then shit gets very very real.

But it’s all good – this is the dream – time to revel in it a bit.

#ThursdayThoughts

wash – rinse – repeat

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 21

TRUTH BOMBS

write me a love story

she sighed all dream-like

full of whimsy

and I wondered

how she would feel

if I told her about the girl

with a tongue full of snark

who met the boy

with eyes like stars

and they loved up

on each other

until they couldn’t anymore

I said write me a love story

she growled

not my story

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds and my writing promptress Jena Schwartz – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 20

ONWARD

should I be sad

at the ease with which

you have moved

away from me

perhaps

but really

I am filled with relief

your disappearance saves me

from smothering you in more

tenderness and affection

your absence forces me

to move on from the carcass

of your dishonesty

your loss

is my freedom

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds and my writing promptress Jena Schwartz – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 19

THE HARDLINE

whatever happened to

sexy as fuck

Terrence Trent D’Arby

with the scratchy low voice

that made you think

all kinds of dirty things

the pretty eyes

that melted panties

and the dance moves

that let you know

he knew every way

to satisfy a lover

is he somewhere

tossing pennies into

a wishing well

dreaming of a long-lasting career

did someone sign their name

across his heart

then crush it to pieces

does he wish

he lived up to the hype

and became more than a

two-hit wonder

or is he somewhere laughing

as he collects his royalty checks

wondering when motherfuckers

will stop wondering about him

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds and my writing promptress Jena Schwartz – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 18

BEDTIME STORIES

goodnight

sleep tight

stay on your side of the bed

he smirked

I bite

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds and my writing promptress Jena Schwartz – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 17

ON FORGETTING

until you can remember

kind words

sweet sounds

kisses

please also refrain

from remembering me

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds and my writing promptress Jena Schwartz – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 16

GHOSTS OF CHILDHOOD

“Have you seen the mangoes?”

this evening

my auntie

caught me

off-guard with her iPhone

a well-placed smile

and a gleam in her eye

and before I knew it

I was taking a tour of

my Amachi’s house in India

feeling eight years old again

running down the back steps

past the jack fruit tree

the coconut palm

and the fresh-water well

straight for the cow shed

and an afternoon of

playing war

with my cousins

only the jack fruit tree has since been replanted

the coconut is no more

and between the well and the cow shed

is a fancy shed

much bigger and more modern

housing what

I don’t know

but I can tell you

it looks more spacious and better maintained

than some of the apartments

my friends have in Manhattan

next up was my Amachi’s bedroom

with her books

her vanity

and her bible

because only by the grace

of God did any of us

greet the morning

so you better show thanks

next door

my Achan

rest his soul

especially now that his bedroom

has been turned into

the girls’ room

the space for my mom

and her twin to rest their heads

when they come to visit

and want to be close

to their mom

the veranda looks different

and yet exactly the same

sprawling inviting familial

and as Auntie panned the space

I recalled a photo of me

lying on my uncle’s chest

in that comfy outdoor recliner

fast asleep in the Indian heat

further left

those chairs

the trio in white

I can still see my mom

and my aunts

watching us play late into the night

while the tree frogs called out

and the geckos scampered about

I wonder who sits there these days

then back to the kitchen

and my Amachi’s face

both so old and beautiful

wise and worn

neither requiring much upgrading

fine-tuning

tinkering

both forever functioning

as the perfect centerpiece

to our family

this home

my childhood memories

“Have you seen the mangoes?”

I have auntie

and they are lovely

#NationalPoetryMonth – Day 15

11:23pm

I’m sitting in my dark kitchen

Rihanna’s playing in the background

“man, fuck your pride”

god, I love her

and I’m thinking how I really should be wearing my glasses

but fuck it

and it’s a warm night

even though I know tomorrow will bring back the chill

tonight is perfect

and I love the house when the heat isn’t running

and we get to hear all of its creaks and groans

I have a lemony herb taste on my tongue

after snacking on some Mediterranean sweet potato chips

that claim to be healthy

but nothing that yummy is good for you

and damn my butt is big

but I kind of like it

being the rare Indian girl with a round curvy bum

and wow

the rain stopped

Finally

April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate – inspired by that badass word warrior Jason Reynolds – I’m going to post a poem every day. They won’t be perfect, they never are, but they’ll be here, every day of April. I hope you stop by and enjoy the words and maybe even feel moved to share some of your own.