A Poem by James G. Piatt

The Morning Song

The morning song,
Final remnants
Of the serene night,
Wondrous hymn
Of the wide-eyed starling,
A joyful ornate hymn,
The echo of my soul:
The orange rising sun,
Its expression of hope,
With my lover clasping
My hand, nearing -
Nearing the edge
Of new memories
Of blissful love,
In loving, we conceive
A melodious hymn
Of joy,
A creation formed
After the final remnants
Of a serene night.

(More Poems by  James G. Piatt)

Poem by   Shruti Sareen


You are the allure of a bihu geet
the mystery of matsyagandha
you are turmeric, you are plantain plant
and I a pure virgin girl
you are the secret in the folds of this mekhala
the mad fervour of the bordoisila
you are in my ahom stole, in my ahom bag
but I can reach you only in translation
you are poetry, bihu dance and melody
hiding in the clining mist
you hug the Luit river in your fold
you kiss me, caress me fleetingly
I feel you, love you, wonder you
But I do not know you.

(More poem by  Shruti Sareen)

A Poem by Safaa Sheikh Hamad

Arab Spring

A spring, like no other

The Arab Spring has begun

Ribs of Buazizi at flame

Caging the tyrants in the fields

Incinerating their statues in the squares

Here is the revolution

The poor refuse to eat gateaux

Here is the revolution

The time: This Spring

The place: From the Arab Gulf to the Atlantic


The ones who sit on our chests when we breathe

Snore when we sing

Whisper of hell when we dream of the road


The patriarchs in the hareem

Call it a mutiny

Call us rebels

Or even filthy rats

We no longer care

And that's why



Call this land

A place to reincarnate glory

(More Poems by Safaa Sheikh Hamad)

A Poem by Juhi Chowdhury


Wobbling forth, my mind walks unsteadily

Alone above raising heads of steady people,

Above mortified conscience, sense and folly

Of regular rolling on the weary streets,

Weary dusts, weary poses, weary hypocrisy

Worked out under a misty hypnotism.

I imitate**, my soul imitates, my fingers,

Toes and vision too, uncomplaining,

Unquestioning, unanswering

Each a rise, each a set like an endless mania�

Now I distort the spell of moving stillness

Breaking a rhythm of numerous feet-

My feet resonate with the vibrant feet of Moon only:

I walk towards her, she walks towards me

In or out of her realm or of my arena-

So many miles' segregation and a second's oneness.

All wounds, holes and pores and cracks

Were filled with the lunar holistic bliss.

Torn tunes of my within chime so melodious,

She claps and flatters and chuckles

Hiding behind a thin Hanky swimming smoothly

At high, half-seen half-unseen...

Will the wanderer be accused of

Trespassing into the kingdom of her Father

For making a disharmony?

I believe he won't as a father-being

Like his Child and his Child's reign.

NOTE: 1. Hanky-cloud

2. wanderer- poet's mind

3. her- Moon

4. Father-Sun

5. Child-Earth

* 'disharmonious' with the regular monotonous routine of life

** 'imitate' refers to a universal process that is carried out by all
beings-imitating a

day's routine, imitating others, imitating steps and so on under a
bounded system.

( More Poems by Juhi Chowdhury)

A Poem by Krishna P. Chakravorty

I know that I know nothing.

I know that I do not know everything and know almost nothing,
Even though I can feel myself confident about certain things,
I am only wise insofar as what I don't know and don't feel,
I don't think that I know everything and every matter in real.

I do not know what God is, what religion is, what truth is,
What bad is, what evil is, what devil is, what heaven and hell are,
But I know that man made up most of these and their qualities,
Just to get help, protection, compassion, and nurturing from Nature.

I know that things are not in reality what they seem to be on top,
And all that glitters are not gold, platinum, rubies and diamonds,
But I do not know why God being omnipotent and omniscient,
Can not destroy the evil, devil and all the wrongdoers of the world?

I know that humans are mortals and so also all the living things,
Being born, we all must die, that is Nature's dictum in the world,
But I don't know what is the purpose of life and this wonderful universe,
But I know that life is a priceless gift of nature to us and for us to enjoy.

(More Poems by Krishna P. Chakravorty)

A  Poem  by G David Schwartz

My Eyes Are Full Of Tears

My eyes are full of tears
It hasn't been this way for year
But because of all the fears
My eyes are full of tears
My heart is topped with pain
I hope that don't come again
Because I don't like the pain
It truly hurts my only brain
My whole life is tearing
As if the end is nearing
And crazy dreams do hurt me
With waking up or just standing

I Have A Question Or Two
G David Schwartz
Do women like to be told they are beautiful
or so they think it is just bull?
I have to know right now
Because there is one on them in here
If I say she beautiful  Will she simply think
I want it take her Out for a drink But if she is truly gorgeous
If she truly is She may not even know it
So I guess the answer's yes

Kati Katie
G David Schwartz
Kati Katie
What a lady
Always with a smile
She so sweet so complete
And so difficulty to beguile

A poem by Arun Budhathoki


Sew the alphabets to make the sorrowful cloth: the weary face of the sky droops pathetically.

Today Sun hid somewhere in the heavens

Ashamed of yesterday's vulgar behaviour

It ordered the clouds to cover up

A weary man blames the innocent damsel

Of the eternal losses

Fire sticks out from the cracked body

Like radiant fireflies under the clear starry summer night

And along the breeze they sway happily

Mocking the bereft Sun and the mystified Moon

They dance banging their radiant lights

And after midnight the sparkles enter these morbid eyes

Claiming to possess the bottle of joy

And I drink in one gulp

Fireflies stick out of the bubbly body

And I dance the whole night

Claiming to possess the dawn,

A window within windows

Two perfect pictures hanged separately

And above them the sky hangs eternally, gloriously

Exposing its lewd Sun

And then I realize that I forgot to sew the alphabets:

The weary face of the sky droops and the two perfect pictures

Dissolve in its colours of quagmire, without hope.

( More poem by Arun Budhathoki)

A Poem by Gary Langford

Drunken Love

I ride around your tidy wagon.

I am Indian Joe on a thoughtless horse.

You shake your head when I fall off,

preferring to call me, a drunken imbecile.

You measure me up, five glasses, two hiccups.

The memory camera fabricates our movie.

I am not doing well on the western front,

or any other front for that matter.

You are keen to castrate thought,

casting me as a hopeless prospect

in the court of romantic disorder.

You are the judge without a wig.

I still try to hold you back.

You say your career is important,

wearing fabrics of my emotion down.

I make the pitiful call of love.

You guffaw, dragging memories after you

like a storm. I have no choice,

waking to an unappreciative audience,

leaving the studio without a backwards glance.


( More Poems by Gary Langford)

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