A Poem by Reenu Talwar


The morning is cold and cruel.
I rub off sleep from fogged-out glassy eyes.
They keep seeing
the icicles hanging from eaves of dreams.
They freeze thoughts that leave the mind,
words that escape the warmth of mouth.

A snowed-in door bursts open.
No, its not icy wind that rushes in.
Its a breath of fresh air.
The kids tumble into my bed
breathless and laughing,
Cold hands, faces and lips
begin spreading their warmth.
It thaws me, drags me out,
out where against a foggy sky
a round yellow balloon bounces
above squealing-with-happiness hands.
We don't miss the sun.
Bunches of squawking parrots
circle around, splashing green and red,
Finches chatter as incessantly as the kids do.
A cold morning smiles and melts
in warm honey of happy souls.

(More poems by Reenu Talwar)

Poem by Mak Manaka


My time is not before or after but now
It is that time I will not abuse
because many men died trying to beat this time
a free man yet still doing time
in his imprisoned mind
depression is the name of his bride
but time didn’t let him show his culture’s pride
The hands that link us to day and night
night and day never stop moving
even if I stopped breathing
you will still hear the clock ticking,
time and time after my existence
the face of earth will change but not its hands
so its only now my time will shine
and through you, it will after.
Time is the father to understanding age
And in time we shall learn how to assassinate AIDS
If time was rewindable
I would ask my father to explain this time
That weakens the mind of a young black Sowetan
I spoke to time about minutes of my life
And he told me to make the best of them
because he waits for no man.
This never stopping, always ticking time
Has no mercy yet can still give a second chance
To those who don’t do the lazy dance
And their tongues taste success
My time is different from yours
But only the same in numbers
We were born at different times
And we shall die at deferent times
A woman once thought her time has arrived
With so much excitement in her eyes
She couldn’t see her time was half spent
When all her fame and millions were repossessed by time
She died without a cent
No man born of woman can cheat time
Because in this time
Your time, my time
Depends on how we spend this beautiful time

(More Poems by Mak Manaka)

A Poem by  Prem Kumari Srivastava


The two cars stopped
“Let me sit with him” she said.
And jumped out.
An exchange ensued.
But, only to traverse a strange terrain!
Where conversation is a minefield
with terse, hypnotic dialogues
filled with gaping pauses
and the prospect of imminent violence.
Every statement is rooted in battles for control,
even innocuous-seeming words can wound.
Turf wars waged in locations that range from
the heart and the heart alone.
Is this what has become of … them!

(more poems by Prem Kumari Srivastava )

A Poem by Abhishek Behera.


In the depths of mind’s ocean
An alien particle pricked
Like a microscopic irritant.

A poet chose to shut himself
For shelled life is to create pearls,
Isn’t it?

Then a window would be an innovation
When the whole mind could be free
For how else
Can a roof be without walls?

(More Poems by Abhishek Behera)

A  Poem  by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal


He would walk without his head,
but he never forgot his heart.
He would walk with a cane
and the black shoes he wanted
to be buried in when that hour
came. The wind would blow
strong, caressing his headless
face. He would eat fruit and
crushed almonds. He would
talk to his beloved, though
she was gone. The crowd of
people, couples, would look at
the way he walked and talked.
With perplexed eyes, they
formed a mental picture of
the man without a head.
They did not like him. His act
was growing old. They wanted
him to walk with his head.
They wanted him to breathe
the oxygen and take in
the aromas of the city.
He walked with an air of
indifference. Even the birds
of autumn disliked him.
The birds of spring didn’t care.
He took a chance going out
headless. This was not in fashion.
The man did not care. He was
not looking for a new lover.
His true love was gone. Other
women did nothing for him.
He had no love for them.


(More poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal)

A poem by By Amit Shankar Saha

At the Asutosh Museum of Indian Art

It was August
Of the last year
Of the decade -
First of the twenty-first -
Gregorian chronology.
Rupees ten for entry.
Upstairs. Downstairs.
Refurbished galleries.

Indus seals - replicas.
Statues, torsos and busts.
The Vishnu, the Buddha,
The Jain Tirthankara.
Holding their weight in stone.
Balancing counterparts -
In straw and stick and clay -
The tribe of Manasa.

The Radhas of Bengal.
Same posture, pose and poise.
Of the same mould?
But for the different sizes
And three centuries in between.
And from the south of India -
Vishnu superseding Shiva,
Invading the Gauri-patta.

The miniaturists of Delhi
Down the Ganges came to the Bay.
In colonial dress
Rama's coronation -
A Kalighat painting.
And a lone Jesus Christ
From medieval Goa -
Staring back as I leave.

(More poem by Amit Shankar Saha)

A Poem by Mrudula Kalyani


Broad rose the moon like beacon flame
Travelling with grandeur and steadily;
The night rolls on dawning into
Yet another beautiful day!!!!
There under the porch I sit down,
Waiting for the clock to strike together.

I close my eyes, I see you
Clearly through fearless and aching ignorance
Deep black eyes semi shaded in brown lids;
Battling them as tears of joy overflow!!!
A wondrous lesson in thy silent face
Taking a disguise, so as to take all my anguish.

As I leant on you trembling and sat so
With the tinge of love panting in soft alarm
You are there again, then now and always....
You overlooked things that I scarce could tell
The very sense of where I might be as well,
Thought after thought nourished with care....

Surprised me even on a sleepless night
To help me wake up refreshed and glad......
I wondered with deep wonder at thyself,
Now that I realize, it is well, it is true!!!
God couldn’t be physically everywhere,
To guide me along the depths of happiness...

And so he created this wonderful
Creation called you, Mother;
Highly and holily, the angel
Every child proudly looked at
With solicitude, awe....
Admiration and high faith....

And loved me with all love,
Beyond all love;
Besought me to be plain
And blunt and use,
Against my nature
What I could I did....

As I gazed at you, for more words
Just to tell all my Love for you.....
All I could end up telling is;
A smile, that probably only you understood!!!

( More Poems by Mrudula Kalyani)

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