contemporary poetry

Evidence – A Poem by Krushna Chandra Mishra

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Wherefrom, you tell me,
Shall I collect evidence
On my complete ruin in your hands
Once you in all cunning
Have erased everything
From coming to be used against you
To put me back in my place
From where in utter grief and loss
I stand displaced and perplexed?

Now thus once again
On your calculated return to me
I have nothing more to ask
Except to once in concrete terms
Explain to me how and in what conditions
You sought to withdraw from my life
To keep your shadow constantly troubling me
To my utter despair and ruin
From the dark abyss of which perhaps
Never in this life
I think I shall recover for sure.

Evidence it is
I am beside you and here
Not demanding anything except
Finding you broken and lost and groping
For something you know
You will never be able to lay
Your crazy hands upon.

Gin Thing – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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Last night I had a gin gimlet
Usually prone to bourbon or Irish whiskey
Departed from the norm
Took a lovely journey to clear spirits
Helped my mood
Became floaty and optimistic
instead of the usual dulling down of the senses
A drink before dinner, centers me
Gin races through my system
Euphoric
Everything’s gonna be alright
It’s a gin thing babe

Voodoo Doll – A Poem by Ananya Dhawan and Sanchit Goel

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She’s darkened art,
an almost human (one might say),
a conjurer of charms so terrific,
of love and hate
and magic, prolific.

With pins and needles
Sticking out of her heart
She is hypnotizing humanity
right from the start.
A spiritual figure for luck and charm,
if fitly used, she means no harm.
I marvel at her sinister décor,
a bald head and eyes that lure

Is she the one to avenge wrong doers?
Or is she the one being avenged for?
With soothing colors that killed her soul,
Pulling everything around like a warm hole.
The doll that makes little ones smile,
Is all set to cause fear in their eyes.

If what they say is actually true,
Voodoo is her thing,
The doll is just for fools.
Then maybe we should burn her,
Put her in a ball of fire,
While her colors turn to ash,
We might just see her true desires.

Who Am I? – A Poem by Sanchit Goel

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I am the extrovert who keeps to himself.
I think about myself before anyone else.
I look myself in the mirror for myself.
I talk to you but about me.
I selflessly extend my hand when yours is full.
I am the introvert who only believes in extroversion.

I am kind and gentle in most extraordinary ways.
In a way that I appear when you need me the most.
It is most unlikely that I might be of use.
I am soft and trusted when you whisper your secrets.
Your secrets are mine, but mine are distrusted.
I am rude and harsh in the face of self-beliefs.

I am courageous to the cowardly.
I stand up to them who can’t stand up for themselves.
My strength in my arms is a symbol of size.
My strength in my heart is nowhere found.
I protect myself from external disasters.
I am a coward to all the internal monsters.

Am I the face that they recognise?
Am I the name that they plagiarize?
Who am I or what am I?
Am I not to ever understand in this lifetime?
Am I human being that counts?
Or am I just another package of weight?
Who am I?

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Thanksgiving 2016 – A Poem by Stan Morrison

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asleep, relief from pain for a while
awake thankful for what preceded
grateful for what remains, hopeful
ambivalent about whats to come
yet sober, aware of life’s fragility
in the last analysis so powerless
swept along by the day-to-day
love rules supreme

Baring Arms – A Poem by Rozann Kraus

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Our bare arms are long
strong as our hearts
not as easily broken…
as they open embracing
comforting, grasping,
protecting
bearing witness to our loves
second to none
our losses
each wound stitches
healing ever fierce
our common core
our never gone humanity
our ever sacred power
to link hearts
in unity
banishing hatred and fear
as truly as
a new day
of justice and peace

Sometimes – A Poem by Neil Creighton

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Sometimes, when the heart is heavy,
the world of wonder and beauty can seem
little more than a vast, pitiless sea
with dark waves rolling relentlessly on,
great, towering crests and troughs
carrying only strife, struggle, injustice
and a squalid, petty, deceiving tide
of narrow self-interest. Then
I reach for your hand, feel its warmth,
sense a strange, mysterious connection,
the greater sea of lives intimately shared,
and buoyed by a wave of love, hope and joy,
surrender to its transcendent surge,
letting it take me wherever it will.

Do Not Follow – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha

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Do not follow these lines
they are pockmarked
diseased, not strawberry-
scented but vicious traps
in madness. Follow them only
when you arraign a last wish
of death traps.
Silent monologues in eternity
and aroma of a salon’s sapphire.

Honeysuckle – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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Honeysuckle is everywhere this summer
Walking down blazing-hot streets
Suddenly the lovely scent invades the nostrils
Makes me stop in my tracks

It brings me back to my youth
The fragrance omnipresent
I’m not sure I loved it back then
Need it now though to remember the sweetness

Freed – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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My graphic poems used to embarrass me
Yet I couldn’t stop writing them
Did I want attention ?
Praise?
Or a gentle rebuke?

No matter
Studying Bukowski
He probably never deleted anything
He has freed me
The writing stands

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