Wednesday, February 1, 2023

September 2019

The Work of Art It is just another day To be proud Happy with who I am With high self Esteem And the old broom and Mop at hand.   At the Doctor Trust, to care about Who I am As if to let me have My say Pad and pen the end Or give me a couple Words as a pathway.

Poems by B S Tyagi

Word… Word is Brahman It emerges from Hiranyagarbh And wanders in the ether Man’s heart vibrates He hears its rapturous melody And sways in ecstasy And is lost in the sacred silence. The other day… The predator pounces upon the word And preserves the kill A dictionary is compiled It hardly objects But, is it at ease? Lexicons continue multiplying And then, words…words…words… Words sans soul   Across...

Poems by Anne Babson

Before I spoke their language as a philosopher. I assumed harsh consonants accidents. I stood in long lines at their communions. They laid hands on. I listened bent forward. I sat under their lectures, taking notes. The seemed clean, free of the stain of questions. They dressed so nicely, invited me out -- Beerhall nights where we...

Poems by Anirban Dam

Language this noise binds us in peculiar ways as if it knows the frequency at which we resonate I can predict the weather by the lilt in your voice and you can pinpoint my location by the clamor on the streets. evening is when the suburb breaks down into episodes, but all I can think of is the time...
Home When the tree shed all leaves under a blue naked sky, someone whispered: It’s spring. I sat a crow on the barren tree that melted down before the black bird escaped in to oblivion. Pebbles strewn around the pathway laughed & walked straight into my heart When I found the gate locked after a long journey, the road announced: You’re home.   Skeleton Standing alone in front, of...
Midsummer i I was inside a labyrinth: A flood in front of me. The endless surge and fall of water. The deep ocean surface wavered before turned in white waves. When the waves receded, they left a little shimmer in my little eyes. At a distance, something washed ashore. A blue...
Yarn I. Spread out like a tangential curve, perched on window balconies, I would stare at each abraded line of the sun The sky was my favorite thing, how if I lay horizontally, departed from the forces of gravity and the will of life, everything was united A quiet murmur would rush across the diaphragm, knots and levers humming slowly...
Shikhandin Poetry has been with humans since the beginning of time. And will remain with humanity until the last human breath is stilled. Throughout the millennia of poetry’s existence, it has always reflected upon and mirrored the world in which it was birthed. Poetry, like all the other arts, reveals society’s...
Terry Engel I stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, just a few feet from the engraved words that marked the spot where Martin Luther King Jr. stood to give his “I Have a Dream” speech. At the time of the speech, August 28, 1963, I was three and...

Wolf Diner

Maria Hiers “A lone wolf is a wolf that is searching, and what it seeks is another wolf. Everything in a wolf’s nature tells it to belong to something greater than itself: a pack.” She came to me, colored in. Leslie’s first words to me: “Can you stay for a few...
John Michael Flynn We can’t all display the courage, talent and nerve of a Rainer Maria Fassbinder, but we can try, at least, to respect it. A bomb had leveled the cathedral, leaving a steeple of stones gone black with soot, a bottle and can here and there lodged in...

The Indoor Aviator

Pia Donovan I sit on the floor in front of the old, low, brown bookcase in the dining room. People walk back and forth behind me in a silent rush, going nowhere in the small empty house. Now everyone that lived there is gone leaving two tiny empty bedrooms, his...