Ann Iverson Ann Iverson
 Poem by Timothy McNeal

All Souls´ Day

Lovely ladies, like
of old,
clutching at umbrellas like
troopers at their parachutes,
with looks like
weeping windscreen wipers.

( More poems by Timothy McNeal )

A  Poem  by Ward Abel


Philosophy and lust
an economy of touch
earthen, dark;
I look
is infinity,
transparent bleached
But there is music. Always.
The promise of morning
in fallback
position, lurking,
rivers carve
my counties up
never level
always sloped
angling to elsewhere.
Shades of weather
dusk perpetual

and she took down
all the curtains,
the lights turned on.
She walks around
I love pianos.

( More poems by Ward Abel)

A Poem by Michael Estabrook


loved Easter most,
the day the Lord rose
into Heaven.
She loved to sing
the Put On Your Easter Bonnet song
and saunter
over to Church
in the sun.
She learned the miracles
of Jesus and all
the books of the Bible
by heart.
L ife was simpler,
so much simpler
back then
when Grandmother
was alive.

(More Poems by Michael Estabrook

A Poem by Laurie Byro


When you leave your shoes
by the door of the room
we have rented,
I sometimes try them on.
Your feet are so much larger.
Close as we are, I wonder
how your life feels.
I am no shaman,
I just wonder.

Smoke from the brush they burn
to prevent runaway fires
forced us to leave the park early,
the cloying sweetness of burning.

We drive like we are pursued
by fire. For days we wash our hands

but can still smell its trace.

We eat without forks because it is sexy.
Plum sauce runs down my hands.
I lap it off the plate.
When he leaves the room,
you put a finger inside me
to taste my smoke.


We are parted, your shoes
beside another door.


Breathing in,
I bow to the place inside you
where when we are both there
only one person exists.

( Meet Laurie Byro )

Poetry From Young poets of

Deon van der Berg – 4TH PRIZE WINNER
Willowridge High School – SECONDARY SCHOOL


I am me, who is that?
That is an undetermined fact!
But still doesn’t tell me where I’m at!
Do you judge me on how I act?
Do you judge me on how I look?
Then please take a look!

I want to know who I am!
Why must it be so hard!
Maybe I should play a different card?
Won’t someone help me? Please!
Just so that I can be at ease!

Will I ever know who I am?
Will anyone ever know who I am?
I suppose I will never know this!
So now I will leave it at this


( More poems by  Young poets of )

A Poem by Raamesh Gowri Raghavan

Fashion Street

9:00 AM. Mumbai. Fashion Street.
Officially Mahatma Gandhi Road.
Curious juxtaposition of names.

Empty hawker stalls.
Unloaded hangers.
Stark bamboo poles.

Fading echoes of bargains.
Echoes of a thriving economy.
Echoes of a police van.
Echoes of a city alive.

Echoes of a man of his people.
Echoes of his people.
Curious juxtaposition of names?

Mumbai, 8 July 200

( More poems by Raamesh Gowri Raghavan )

A  Poem by  Ann E. Michael

INSOMNIA & LULLABY (the Ramayana)
for Michael

After the lights go out
all your imaginings
twist within you, anxiously racing
like Hanuman, wind’s monkey god—
alert & restless in your heart.

Ravana, King of Demons,
with his ten heads looms
large & unslayable
over your dream forest.
He groans & whines when you pray,
thumps the walls at night,
invades your unconscious,
wakens you with terrible screams.

Do you wonder how to find
untroubled slumber? Only remember:
Ravana is careless.
A man might destroy him,
a monkey, a child's unerring faith
in the imaginable
and the unseeable
can help you overcome your devils.

Remember this, and close your eyes.
Rest, now—
make the wind your hammock.
Satisfy your leaping heart
by letting go of heaven & earth
for a few sweet hours
of sleep.

(More poems by Ann E. Michael )

A Poem by  Stan almendro


The dinner table no longer fact but just a dream and fable
With its demise the family is confused and ever so unstable
No longer do we sit and hear each others heart and dreams
The absence of this time together will tear us apart it seams

Where are the days when mom and sis the dinner table would set?
And around it and everyone would sit yes even our puppy pet
Times of laughter we all knew as we shared in our wonderful day
And even cried all together as our dear Granny was taken away

Its here each day we heard just how to live our lives
And not to walk with silly people and to battle and to strive
The art of just being forgiving and face new tests each day
For when this all has come and gone the family is here to stay

Now in its place are TV shows with no dinner table set
With mom and dad, brother and sis and the dog our little pet
Each one running to and fro and no time for talk or play
Sweet moments of the dinner table have all been swept away

Oh how I long to sit and hear my dear old dad just say
Tell us dear boy how are you and what did you do today
And hear mom plead our cause as dad his voice would raise
softly would she calm the place and sing our unearned praise

Well that's all gone with brother and sis and all of us sitting alone
It sometimes feels that life is hell and everything is like a stone
Why don't we try in this rushing life to make each family stable?
Yes remember it is as simple as just renewing the dinner table

More poems by Stan almendro))

A Long Poem by  Christopher Barnes

These beams are only for Sun Beans.

Bitter End, Way-Worn Beginning
An armistice in our over-grown extravagance?
You worked up glove puppets, wolf and duck,
Culled thoughts.

On the ping of a needle
A cocaine lacuna then
Vodka-piss stairs are flushed.

Unveil the door to our kept-back house,
are you there, my love, are you there?

(More Poem by Christopher Barnes)

A Poem by Mary Guckian.


On May Eve we picked
yellow flowers from
the road meadow where
a narrow stream flooded
over the ground, leaving
stems fat a-nd rubbery.

We reverently placed
the green bunches by
doorsteps of our homes
and farm outhouses.
Making a wish for good
weather, we prayed
for a plentiful harvest
along with abundant
fodder for our cattle.
Lying on the ground
until they withered -
we watched lively May
winds scatter the fading
petals across the farm:

heavy showers pushing
them back into the earth.

(One more poem by Mary Guckian.)

A Poem By  Michael R. Burch

What Would You Know, for Peri

What would you know of a Poet, beyond
the words she has left us, their Spirit, their Spell?

What would you know of the White Vagabond--
this Angel imprisoned in hell?

Like Prometheus, she has given us Fire--
the inferno of her own desire.

Like Samson in chains, she shrugged herself free
of the Philistines, and now is free.

All we must learn we will find in her words--
the cries of vultures, the chorals of songbirds.

( More Poems by Michael R. Burch)

To Peri from kritya--


Oh unknown Peri !
You have only seen five walls
you haven’t seen the sixth one
that is there just under your feet
mostly people leave it unseen
but one woman of my country, has even ruptured it
when her husband had
sent her to a madhouse
A madhouse which had no walls
It wasn't because she loved someone else
It wasn't because she hated him
She waited for him for fourteen years
yet she was chosen to be left
Many things hold priorities
for a man - power, throne, wealth and people.

Peri, none knows a woman's chlorophyll,
A woman herself doesn't
A woman remains happy even as she fades
she smiles even at the time of her death

Your canopy remains on your shoulders
There are a number of women who are on the canopy
they neither fly, nor do they see the stars.
They discarded music from your heart
from your body, dance
All women around me
have their eyes tied with a bandage, have their feet laden in chains
are dancing with their hands bound
not to keep themselves happy,
but for those who see their bodies dance and
acquire the pleasures of eating fish.

By Rati Saxena ( Originally written in to Hindi, translated by Suma V S)

( Poem continue in next page)

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