Early Morning | Mónika Tóth
early morning
colorful birds are singing
beautiful sunrise
nature poems
A Gray Day | Donal Mahoney
A gray summer day
the sun is on vacation
sunflowers hang their heads
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Unpeaceful Coexistence | Stan Morrison
Like blades of grass seeking the sun
Through cracks in the sidewalks
Beneath the asphalt and cement
There is a silent reticulum of trees
With roots insinuating themselves
Through chemotaxis, extending freely
Reminding us of our unwelcome intrusions
Arrogantly indifferent to urban planning
Mindless of public utilities and pipelines
Raising chunks of sidewalks, cracking streets
Announcing the truth of their genetic nature
Grazing Cattle | Krushna Chandra Mishra
In peace as they graze
These cattle do never
Stray into other fields
Unless one crossing over to another
Signals about new things
And better ones
And the whole herd in great
Haste fully disturbed jumps
And jostles and rushes out
Erasing all signs of calm
That there prevailed long telling
Nothing had happened
For nothing for good.
Mayhem and Laughter | Ananya S. Guha
This landscape hurts
Since childhood these deadpan
Hills, and nobody to feel,
Light their loves
Add some candescent warmth
Only log fires are used to soil
Their bodies
These, pristine one day will
Turn, to mayhem and – laughter.
Moon Shining | Ananya S. Guha
Thrown in open hills
I was born to love them
Disquietude arrived
Only when the hills
Showed wounds.
I escaped Mandrake and followers
I escaped the medicine man
I escaped the tantrik
I escaped solitude too
And in the penumbra
Moon shone on these hills.
It Would Rain on That Saturday | Ken Allan Dronsfield
Absence of pearls in a grand ocean mollusk
crying self-righteousness without salty tears
seeking to find truth in an unrelenting fervor
watch the dark floating in a twilight’s fear.
Dancing in the dark, or waltzing in a whirlwind
depraved and decrepit as a one-legged snake
sweet tea from the spot in a cherry wood box
steeped in red clay pots amongst the ingrates.
Lightning strikes throughout the lower tree line
disturbing thoughts of ambivalence in dreams
hoods in mourning whilst a crypt-like fog lifts
gates of iron hold the spirit deep within.
Rain hits upon leaves making a steady tapping
bare feet hit the road, a slippery slope aghast
a poncho saves the day, in a simple pious way
for we all knew it would rain, on that Saturday.
Longitude, Latitude | Ananya S. Guha
Holding on to these days
is a problem, as winter
manifests slowly in these
hills, now blue, now green
weaving a tapestry of colours
a depth of leaving, forgetting
loving. Another season
another change, people change
clothes, masks, faces. Only
the hills go on
longitude, latitude.
We Are Dreams Guests | Alexis Karpouzos
The fate whispered our names,
our future, molding our life,
leaving fingrerprints all over a humanity soul,
and reminded us our limitations
that nothing could seperate us from nature’s life,
we aren’t owners and conquerors of life,
we are dreams guests.
The Months | JD DeHart
The months came by to visit,
June with her sunny disposition
and April with her warming charm.
December was silent and deadly,
as usual.
August was barely dressed
and October wore his favorite
costume, munching on candy.
The evening came and they swept
away to set the rest of the year’s
gradual time.