Snow – A Poem by Pezhman Mosleh
I wish people would be pure like snow
And would be melted with warmness
And would become a moment creator like water
And would go against any block like overflow
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Nullity – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
Why the extinguishment of consciousness
causes me such distress I do not know
for that nothingness into which we all go
will surely put my preoccupations to flight
nullifying everything in an endless night.
Evidence – A Poem by Krushna Chandra Mishra
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
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
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
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?
More at http://pepperscript.com/.
Thanksgiving 2016 – A Poem by Stan Morrison
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
Untitled (for Jacques Villegle) – A Poem by Rus Khomutoff
Spectres and spectacles of wild wants
ironclad links
and oral history of oral histories
counterintuitive improprieties
in the halo of time
art machines of a clandestine flow
very intact
heart full of napalm
at the dawn of a sizzling moan.
More at https://twitter.com/rusdaboss.
Dog and the Moon – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Dog howling, head pointed
towards the stark moon,
what is there in the moon
that makes it bark,
raucous anger and then petering into a whine, abysmally low,
everything is quiet,
as the silence is punctuated by the howls
the moon climbs up fearing this creature
the dog curls to sleep,
dreams. I shut the door
of my childhood, and the howl continues late into
the night. The winds of March and April lash the window panes.
Everything merges suddenly into litany of silence.
Family Trait – A Poem by JD DeHart
I heard your
warble voice come through
clearly on Sunday
not just when we telephoned
but in my own voice
calling back to you
echoes of one another.