A Poem by Liam Ó Muirthile


I meet my father in old men,
that one there now on his knees
he hands me a cloth
to polish the wax of the bees.

That man there in an armchair
he must be eighty if he’s a day,
he helped me much when I was down,
he talks in a shaky way.

The man of the sea with his tales
tall tales of boats and ships,
we laugh such a hearty laugh –
is it true what comes from his lips?

That honest man who lost a son,
he has tasted much of sorrow,
his two hands firmly press mine
as though there’s no tomorrow.

I meet my father in old men
as I myself approach old age:
every father teaches with love
to face death as might a sage.

(More poems by Liam Ó Muirthile)

A Poem by Luciana De Palma

Have the wisdom
Of a child
Who saw
The sun
Without burning
His eyes

The smile
Transparent like
The summer sky

You give to me
Every your thought
And because of this
My heart
Lives again
In this endless sea
Of generous

(More Poems by Luciana De Palma)

A Poem by James G. Piatt

One Day in Lent

The purple of his Lenten robe caused me
To stand still in unexpected reverence,
The religious man murmured in dark ashes
With scented words his song of woe.

In the stillness of the apse, I silently recalled
My sins and kneeled clumsily upon my knees,
Hoping for absolution for another year,
Without, any progress toward sainthood.

My prayers flew to the ceiling and bounced
Back to the pews like dark balloons of un-holiness,
The Father nodded at me and drew the sign of the
Cross upon his breast, I followed him into the cell.

I wondered if he could truly forgive my
Scarlet sins of commission and omission,
I left the dark cell with my atonement in tact,
I said my penance of ten Hail Mary’s in silence.

I left the church and went across the street,
I ordered two double Gin and Tonics,
I figured I had another 364 days left to
Commit all of those terrible sins again.

I never made it back to the gloomy cell
To relate all of my new sins to Father,
I wonder if God forgives me anyway,
I hope so because I’m out of time.

(More poems by James G. Piatt)


A Poem by Heramb Sukhathankar



Away to lands unknown, we travel day and night.
We think we know the place, but we long to find more.
Choices are what we always make, and then the choices make us.
Sometimes we dream by choice.
Then we are what we chose to be.
It is not always so, things happen just like that.
"Did I want it?”
"Then how did it...?”
We try to search,
as this mystery of choice, chooses us
all our life.
Things may happen by choice,
or not, as the black you are reading,
happened just like that.
As you read this,
you will see not people, but choices.
A web of choices.
Not actions, but choices.
Not a child, but a choice made by the
You will not see the peace,
but death and blood all around.
Your mind will see mine,
trying not to choose.
As by choosing we dictate our life, our future.
My mind, by not choosing,
is not ready for any future.
As I live in the present always.
Let things just happen,
just as I roll the dice of time by choosing not to choose.

(more poems by Heramb Sukhathankar )

A Poem by By John Fraser

Some shades

Carvy blades with dots of rust were
Resharpened to cut unripe mangoes
In five slices. She sold them outside the school
Under the shade of the margosa .next to the man
Who sold juice from lemon and sugarcane shoots.
To children with fond smiles and heavy bags
Which they carried like parachutes. at afternoons when the
Sun steals the tree shades. Her daughter slips out to
Hold an umbrella. Over her mothers head to
Relieve her from the heat. The teacher hasn’t found yet
The missing girl in his class. If he finds out
She will not pass.

(More poems by John Fraser)

A  Poem  by Sharvani h.s


What does the wind tell you?
Does it talk of all its incredible journeys,
Or merely offer an old acquaintance, greetings?
Does it caress your face and sweep your hair
Or batter your senses with powerful gusts?
Do you, in turn, deflect its bold glance?
And seek more scintillating conversation.
Or meet that unflinching gaze head on,
Prepared for truth, devoid of all niceties.
Is it relief you feel, when the air is still
Do you miss that ferocious, incessant tempest
Or do you regret, not using it to your advantage?
Your feelings are extraneous.
Did you at least listen as the wind spoke?

(More poems by sharvani h.s)

A Poem by Gargi Saha


Excelled in every field with males.

Reality turned the tales

The body that beholds me.

The spirit that drowns me.

I feel my woman body so crushed.

The limbs pull me down.

The body feels so exhausted.

Realized, I needed self protection.

Woman look for man in every man.

To fulfil and satisfy her love.

In woman I see the hungry, passionate river.

In man the tireless thirsty ocean.

This body which embodies the ‘femininity’

Subordinate to be ruled over of her dignity

Don’t be too bothered by thy ‘womanliness’

Strive, struggle for thy lost worth, esteem and righteousness.


( More Poems by Gargi Saha)

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