A Poem by Bengt Berg - Swedish Poet


Let us go outside then, out into the world
that fabulous creation of earth and wind
waiting like a loaf of newly baked bread
I head outside and meet all these people who keep
the community running and the grass green,
out into the fresh air that gives us
dreams and scars

Translated by Lars Nordstrom

(More Poems by Bengt Berg)

Poem by  Anviksha  ( years old )

life begins by being little

a building life depends on

the paper that has warning,happiness,and news

person who understands everything

a book you can share feelings with

cooling, freezing, helping
cold as Antarctica

a person leads right


(More poem by Anviksha)



Tears welled inside...

For the selfishness that is in me...

My happiness, my sorrows, my needs, my desires...

Brutally stifling the feelings of the ones

Who have smothered theirs ...for me?

I realise....

I have yet to be-come to the space

Called self-less-ness....

Tears on the brink of eyelashes....

For the sheer enormity of self-interest.

Tears of gratitude...

For that something in me....

Which has brought me to this awareness...?

Which has again made me human...?

For the God in me.

(More Poems by SAKSHI CHANANA)




I have dark, forked wings
Wings of desires-
That takes me towards fire.
Burn them off in fallacy.

I have wings.
Wings of passion-
They are of no benefit
Lead to destruction.

I have egoist wings
Wings of anger
That devastates all animate objects.
Its intensity is like that of an erupting red lava.

I have wings
Wings of desires
Those which seem multicolored, precious
At face value, in reality its despicable.

I wish these wings of mine
Are all destroyed together.
Which won't fly anywhere ever
But rest in solemnity and serene prayer.


(More poems by GARGI SAHA)

A Poem by Deepa Kylasam lyer


The queue wound like a lazy serpent,
Refusing to move an inch forward,
Just like my life.
The impatient clicks of tongues
Of the compartments behind.
Threatened the train of people
To move up quickly.
We had all come to deliver
Our halfhearted congratulations
And indifferent condolences
via speed post

We sent big packets
With puny gifts.
Speed post was the cost of lime.
I was standing loftily to send
Important letters to important people
In some big offices
In big cities.

The slow moving fragile man
in front of me
Wrapped in a forlorn dhoti
And the compelling pulls of his worries
Hesitated and gave a wrinkled envelope
That stank with the sweat of his palms.

The address slightly blurred
written in a school-girl hand-writing
An application for the entrance examination
To some medical school.
The a pathetic official weighed
The dream oft he riri and said
Four hundred
The man opened his wallet
And felt the two hundred rupee notes
And slowly withdrew his daughter's application,
Her dreams and his face from the world
And quickly disappeared.

We all stank
Of body odour
And of bloody indifference.

(More Poems by Deepa Kylasam lyer)

A  Poem  by  Rujuta Deshmukh,

She and Rain

I remember

When the black clouds were

Canopying over the sky

Lakshmi was coming out of

Her small thatched hut.

Inhaling the wet soil aroma,

Collecting the drops in her palm

And scattering the water

Again in the air.

She used to go on

The top of the mountain

Holding the strings of rain.

And running downwards

With rolling water of rain.

Laying in overflowing

Brown stream,

Rain was moving from her

Head to forehead

Forehead to lips...

She was seeping rain.

She and Rain.

Her green field

Flowing river along it,

All were singing with

Her rain song.

While wiping the rolling

Rain from her face

She was seeing through

The window of her finger

The long going way

And her dreams were

Budding inside her heart.

But today rain ruined.

Green field, river, stream

Immerse into it.

Rain is python today.

Resting homes in my arms

He swallowed.

And torn away my green attire.

Getting dark...

My warm touch made

Lakshmi cry.

She huddles under my green torn.

We are crying.

Our sigh fills the Universe

Which will soon buried

Under dark.


Mother earth is crying. Despite her great services to mankind; human greed put her in danger. Mother Earth finds great similarity between herself and Lakshmi-a common name for girl in India also this is the name of (goddesses of prosperity), but ironically she is vulnerable to the sufferings due to her secondary position in the society. There is peace and happiness when women are treated equally. But in the absence of equality there is much disturbance in family as well as in the society.

Rain represents greed of men for power. In this poem mother earth tells us the danger of the greed of men for wealth and also the danger of superior feelings of men, in men and women relationship. If the attitude of equality is developed in relationship women will be respected and finally our earth too will be respected and saved. This poem is written in three tenses, i.e. past, present and future, which also represents mother earth and women suffering all the time.

Data shows that women with no education and less education could not manifest their potentiality and contribute to the sustainable development of the nation. Her life gets waste within the walls of her home.

(more Poems by Rujuta Deshmukh)

A poem by  Feline A. Soriano

Arid Dissipation

Rain of jazz

relocates variants of tonal experimentation. Broken by

woken voices, rhythm aerial

eyes visualize truncated clarity

chaotic nuance repetition's zero. Condition

disposes hearers and hereditary predilection

-decipherable shadow-whole window observed by predicated wholeness of

morning's visible celebration.

Of light, then

alteration of angles' reinterpretation; value

recalls space momentum's



representing logic's bridge of tonal
expedition, too of


of hands whitened


remaining sufficient, haloed,



night and crossing aquatic colors

meshing motion and

sedentary circles of
weeping's vigorous

analytical reflections.

( More poem by Felino A. Soriano )

A Poem by Gerry Murphy


after Apoionius Rhodius

It was during that sea-grey hour
when darkness seems ready to yield the horizon
to the push of impending day.
We reached the deserted island of Thynias
and clambered down exhausted
onto the welcoming shore,
our hearts at last beginning to lighten.
As if on cue, Apollo, on his way
from Lycia to the slumbering haunts
of those innumerable Hyperboreans,
appeared over our heads.
In his left hand the silver bow,
on his shoulder the full quiver of arrows,
his golden hair framing
his immortal face.
Those of us who saw him
felt a sudden, uncontrollable dismay
and burst into tears.
The whole island trembled
beneath our feet as he passed
and the sea swelled
and crashed onto the beach.
None of us dared to look at him directly:
we stood stock-still, heads bowed,
until he vanished into the brightening distance.


( More poems by Gerry Murphy )

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