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It was party time.
I went to a party
at a known place.
It was party time.
I went to the party
as their chief guest.
It was party time.
I went to a party
at a house
I used to live,
for some time.
Ode to a Graveyard
City of angels
tombed in silence.
A solemn stillness
is held in the air.
A hollow...
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 Trickster
Kokopelli, I know what I know.
You are the mysterious humpbacked
flute-playing Casanova of the cliff
dwellers of the American Southwest.
Kokopelli, you are the carousing
peace-loving traveling salesman
seducing women in villages with
your many gifts of music, dancing,
and mischief.
Kokopelli, having seen you in
ancient Anasazi glyphs and rock art;
and having spent time inside the...
Title: The Wild Essential
Writer: Claudine Nash
Format: Paperback
Publisher: Kelsay Books
Publishing Date: 2017
Language: English
Price: USD 14.00
Reviewed by: Melissa A. Chappell
The Wild Essential is Claudine Nash’s second full-length poetry collection. It is preceded by her poetry collection, Parts per Trillion (Aldrich Press, 2016), and a poetry chapbook, The Problem with Loving Ghosts...
VERTIGO
The falcon soars far above us,
a denizen of light and air
circling different wind currents
in a vastness that eludes us
until he sees the smallest speck,
a rabbit emerging from its hole,
and he zooms down to capture it
in less than a minute -- like the vertigo
of parachuting words on the pages of...
On Reflection
a silent tree frog
clings to broken shelves of stone
rippled by the breeze
water colors blend and blur
illusions of perfection
Beads
clusters of black pearls
press into the palms of clouds—
a broken necklace
that slips between my fingers
rains upon this garden path
On the Crossroads
O’ father,
hold my fingers in your firm grip
and help me cross the road.
Suspicion
I’ve burnt myself half, fortuitously.
And deliberately, left the rest unburned.
Bike Accident
Helmet transforms into a skull.
The road runs as usual.
Insomnia
Night burns into an ashtray.
I fly to you with the wings of ashes.
We have handpicked entries for this issue of ELJ. We wanted to give it myriad shades to cater to the readers with varying taste. We are happy to have featured the young and very talented American poet Dustin Pickering. Jhilam Chattaraj, who is an acclaimed literary interviewer, has done...
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...
RIVERS
Should I multiply or divide my soul
in rivers under sheltering domes?
I have left bits of me
in the Elbe and the Rhine.
I have left liquid tears
in the lighted Seine.
Paris, Berlin, Dresden --
each city is an epic, a tome.
In rose gardens in the day
or beer-gardens at night
I have ranged and roamed.
The...
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.
Title: When Lovers Leave and Poetry Stays
Writer: Jhilam Chattaraj
Publisher: Authorspress
Publishing Date: 2018
Language: English
Reviewed by: Juveria Tabassum
The time has come for women to leave the woods andreclaim forbidden spaces. In our vast nation while there are millions of girls who disappear due to traditional cultural evils like dowry and female...