Between | Mónika Tóth
My diary
Between two pages
A pressed red tulip
poetry web
God | Sunil Sharma
On a rushed Mumbai morning, December– 2015
— The sudden overnight chill caused by climate change–
The office goer notices an elderly couple on haunches
Eating hot street food with bare fingers, near the busy cart,
— The plastic spoons are not for the beggars anyway–
Their mouths working hungrily over the little snack
As if it were the last meal of the day.
He makes a detour, despite getting late
Pays for the extra two plates of poha and resumes
His walk to the nearest bus stand and
While looking back for a fleeting instant
Finds the Narayana smiling on each gaunt face.
More at http://www.drsunilsharma.in/.
Taking a Walk | Ananya S. Guha
I walked in my little home town, after Christmas
dwindling streets, people
and houses. A friend shakes hand.
I look the other way forgetting to wish, wanting
to love and say many ecumenical things. But I have just come back from the bar, after downing two and a half gins and burying my dreams into the recesses of winter nights of this town, where I was and am born. My face is reddish, body warm, I take leave of my friend and wish that the trees and the whispering pines will walk across my body, especially in death.
The Shore | Elissa Capelle Vaughn
I had a nice stay at the bottom of the ocean
I fell in love with a ghost who was my only light in the darkness
I followed them deeper into the sea
Past the anglerfish, urchins, and eels
We met a Coelacanth on the same journey to the bottom
A giant squid who told us stories about the shipwrecks his ancestors saw before him
Time stood still as minutes felt like months
Just you, me, and the bioluminescence of the sea
A place where no one could find us
That’s what I miss most about the bottom of the ocean
More at https://ellepacca.tumblr.com/.
Giving Gods of Reason Nonsense | Krushna Chandra Mishra
What others think of
When we suffer woes
Inflicted on us by crooks
In nasty ways all foolishly woven
To distract discourses from sanity
In false and saner looking words
Bent only under designs
To beat sense into madness
That way to madness into sense
To turn would take centuries
Of law and lawyers and courts
That know that Truth is what looks
To be true no matter how proper Truth
In knowledge supreme in complicity of all
Bent to dig up and bury in truth to erect
In its place what may be visible to eyes
Where nothing despite the truth of things
Would be unbelievable because acceptance
In the world matters like nothing else
Truth in all its purity of form and semblance
Not excepted.
Bed Bugs | Vera Ashton
A nest in her head,
Bags under eyes.
Dreams floating all around,
Eyes open,
Heart lonely.
Scratching her scars,
Reminisce on his smile,
Revive his laughter,
Retain his touch.
The last few months relived
only once the sun rests.
Smoke Rings (For Natalie) | Rp Verlaine
The once was
is gone
a rumor
like smoke rings
escaping your lips on
a summer’s day where
those thought to be in love
admit defeat exhaling it
As if it were
the temporary
renamed as forever.