Suzie, queen of fall*

Suzie is a beauty
So says everyone
Her smile is as pretty
As the setting sun

Wrapped around her sash frills
They say her fingers are
As delicate as tendrils
Curled around a flower

She gazes into emptiness
With her blue-green eyes
Of all who ‘ve seen her there’s
Not one who has not cried

She gazes into emptiness
With her blue-green eyes
All have wept who courted her
From the window wayside

Smiling in her yellow kingdom
Framed against the wall
Sits Suzie, queen of paint-brush wisdom
Suzie, queen of fall

*Fantasy about a painting I chanced to see in a shop in Cannaught Place, New Delhi.

( More Poems By  Tushar Chauhan )

A Poem by Bryon D. Howell

THE SUNSET MENAGERIE

It was the day
everything burned.

A medium wind
blew grains of wheat sand
onto the blacktop
where I stood
and watched you
reading by the ocean.

The sun was
focused
on just you,
beating rhythmically
its late-afternoon drum.

You read your book,
while laying
on a steel blue
cotton bath-towel.

Drained,
I decided to sit down
on the hunter green
park-like bench.

I pretended to
care
about watching
the sunset,
meanwhile,
I daydreamed
only
of bringing you
the first star
which still had sand
in its eye.

You glanced,
but once.

There would be no
second chorus,
no bridge,
and no bleeding
saxophone exit
before the sun
and the rest
of its band-members
finished
playing for you.

Opening my mouth
wide,
I swallowed
hard
that hot wheat sand.

I remember the day
everything burned.

And the crimson sun
did set
right on my own sad
blue eyes
like you -
like you melting into
that warm, steel blue
bath-towel
and a better book.

My music was you.

( More poems  by Bryon D. Howell)

A poem by Sargam Garg

Silence of Sarnath

In the silence of Sarnath, my heart questioned me,
What if I were Yashodhara∞ standing beneath the Boddhi tree.
Will I be happy, sad, angry or overwhelmed to reach that place,
Where "Siddhartha" became "Buddha" to rise above the base.

I would have cried and wondered why didn't he confide,
Did he think I am not strong enough to stand by his side?
I would have wondered if he thought I might block his way,
Would I have respected his quest or urged him to stay?

My husband called for a snap and broke my reverie,
I stood beside him as he held my hand beneath the Boddhi tree.
Always thinking about "us" I forgot there is "him" and "me",
To make this relationship successful, I have to respect "individuality"


Notes

∞ Yashodhara was Buddha’s wife.

( More  Poems by Sargam Garg )

Past the Heavens

We hang stars outside our bedroom
windows, watch them in the dark
and wonder how to reach them.
We wait until that sensible,
kind-hearted person points out
that we are the ones who hung
them up there to dry (and with
them drying, evapourate our dreams).

We throw stars out like dice
and wait to see our fate,
forgetting (always forgetting)
that we are the ones
who rolled the dice.

We look to the stars
and past the heavens.


(More poems by  Laala Kashef Alghata )
 

Poems  by Paola Loreto

From da L’ACERO ROSSO

THE RED MAPLE

How could it be
that my song
never was?
In hushed silence
to go meet the evil
that leaves you
no way out.

Dedicated

One day I’ll take you to the red maple
unfolding and wide in the orchard.
A daring glimmer, transparent in the air –
the omniscient narrator of what we really care about


(More Poems From da L’ACERO ROSSO )

A Poem by Ajey


God, My Friend !

Come,
Sit here.

The sky is blue
And the earth is green today
Let the cattle enjoy

Put down your “Sotha”
And give me a “Biri”
Have a cup of “Chai”
Let us sit together and chat

You know
It’s been long since we did so
The Journey is hectic & tiresome
Come on let me sleep in your lap
And tell me a fairy tale
May be we’ll not meet again ………
Never Ever !

Prayer of a Himalayan Shepherd

(More poems by Ajey)

A Poem by Alessio Zanelli
 

Haunted

Her voice and scent
evanescing ghosts
haunting empty hours
what have I done?
Days at work and evenings home
alone
don’t taste the same anymore
awakenings seem daytime returns to night
everything’s slippery
deprived of volume and colors
like old comics in black & white
only lines
within unchanging squares
how could I reach so far?
Wrinkles
sparse and divergent
useless marks
on my useless face
silence grows old
hands seek in vain
no more vibrations
from the mobile
tomorrows keep on turning to today
but will todays ever turn to tomorrow?
Questions! Questions!
No more time
for the mind’s eye
since I can’t disperse
any of my haunters!
I
uncollectable
soaked in myself
liquefied through the future
she
fixed
neatly shining out
sculptured in the past.


( More poems by Alessio Zanelli )
 
 

Faces on Leh

Haven’t you heard it?
There are guests at your door
You, aloof, detached, secluded
Will you keep on hiding from me?
Or will you rise and open the door?
Sustain me with welcome water?
Look at my feet; they are arid
from my long dusty journey

***
The door … had nobody heard it?
Not the pleading knock?
Did nobody open it?
Nobody heeds to me!
Oh Stone, stark stone fallen
and left alone
No shira nerve for green rain
And it rains in Leh

***
Who placed those unseasoned kisses
setting them on your face like roses?
Till yester night you were pale
and now white
And in the neatest cotton dress
for your ceremony
But why is your face red
breaking like the morning?
Why is your face gleaming
like the devata of Gomfa?

***
I know, you didn’t invite me in
It was I, who entered your heart
Hey Avadhooto, wandering-Saint
Throw away your chilam cigars


( More poem by Rati Saxena >>)