A Poem by  Yoshira Marbel.

The day I fall in love
Into the horizon the fiery sun wanes
The roar from the monstrous mountains
Pulsates through the oceans veins
Inspiring the tide to release
A butterfly of waves
The sparrow steals the blue birds chur-lee
And the owls hoot a harmonies melody
The sundew invites the worker bee
Coaxing its drops to turn to honey
My love so beautifully infinite
Like the plains of the Serengeti
Please will you always remain my bokkie

(More poems by  Yoshira Marbel)

A Poem by Prakriti Renjen


She bit, she scratched, she resisted,
She punched, fell down,
She spew fire, spat venom,
bristled like a ball of thorns,
Burnt to burn more.
She saw, she felt, she realized,
She hunched, walked away,
She froze, ceased to feel,
She burnt, ceased to feel,
She tore, ceased to feel,
She ruptured, ceased to feel,
He held her, she wept,
He caressed her, she crumbled,
He understood her, she broke.

(More poems by Prakriti Renjen )

A Poem by Holly Day

 Plate 24

He stands defiant, face turned toward the sun, as if
denying he no longer wears a skin, that only a thin sheaf
of translucent membrane and piano-wire ligaments are keeping
his muscles and organs from slipping free

to the ground. He leans forward as if poised
to run, to flee from the scene of his eventual
disassemblage, from the medical students lurking somewhere beyond
the edge of the page, pencils poised

to take more notes.

(More Poems by Holly Day)

A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

Three Blessings in the Shade

Two lone crows on a crust of snow
pecking to find sustenance. They,
the keepers of precious
wings and intelligent things
that seemed to sense my sorrow
as I passed, gave something back
which time took - a seed to see
equal wonder in the vast array of branches above
and in the muddied ice on ground.
A good person arrived and
with a brief turn of his lips, warmed my mind,
put colour where greyness had webbed my love
in a fatalist's prison.

I felt the three dance. I felt the simple,
the heroic and the awake. And driven
to merge with the blending foliage,
I was pulled toward the aching arms of high trees.
There, in flight, I was blessed.
I experienced a soft
and a useful death.

( More Poems by Allison Grayhurst)

A Poem by Sudhanshu Bhandari


Love is like the once-in-a-lifetime bloom of the bamboo;
Ephemeral, enchanting and enigmatic;
Like the efflorescence of a cactus in desert born;
A riot in colours from a painful thorn.
Love was when in the infinitesimal point of naked reality;
I uncovered my frailty before you;
When silence supreme reigned between you and me;
You read my intent and I your intensity.
Love is like the first summer rain;
The first few drops like a heavenly potion for the parched crops;
Like that gentle aroma born from the conjugation of Earth and Water;
That fizzles momentarily but forever lingers on.

Love was when in one not abnormal but lonely night;
I desperately felt the urge to be by your side;
The pain and longing is not in that I crave only for your touch and smile;
The pining is more for the lost moments that we could have shared.

Between what could have been and now no more shall be;
Between cold reason and warm sentimentality;
Between my craving for you and your recollection of me;
Stands Time with supreme indifference for you and me.

There is just one more thought to Speak;
That what I got from you is enough for a Lifetime’s remembrance;
The agony is whether my remembrance in your world is a pygmy-sized drop in your Ocean wide.

(More Poems by Sudhanshu Bhandari)

A Poem by Sujan Ratan

t the threshold of seventy six

Withering petals holding seeds.
Wrinkled wisdom peeping out delight.
The eve of life, the time of setting sun.
Gathering experiences truth and beauty clad,
painting rainbow of my life.
Now venture to ink what ever I feel,
Though I know, I am late for asking
Blessing from the Muse of poetry.
+ +
But proudly I say in Shelley's words:
'I am' old 'yet beautiful'. *

( A few lines from my long unfinished poem : ‘The Eve of Life’

( More Poems by Sujan Ratan)

A Poem by Yiorgos Chouliaras


In the cigarette smoke of dead soldiers
in their metallic shouts take it all off
as blades of rich reflections cross
on the fingers of a banker who applauds
in the hungry looks of impatient adolescents
who can’t stand it any more, urging her to strip
before their explosion destructively erupts
all over the pulverized stage
from the shining tips of false brassieres
I give rhythm to the hard striptease of history
endlessly playing on the drums of the Balkans
an old African song of Chicago

Translated by David Mason & the author
[From The Treasure of the Balkans, (1982) 1988]

( More Poems by Yiorgos Chouliaras)


A Poem by Eduard Harents


Life lives me with all my details,
and I turn around it
as a color of another brush.
My canvases have holes in them
as a Japanese coin,
through which one by one
all my loves free themselves
from me, always outwards
their parting
ringing about my wonderful loss…
And my claps
weigh heavier than I do.
So I have collected them
in my hand
as smashed paper money
and keep them
for the last – the death
to revamp its masks,
that will be hole one day,
as my canvases are.
And I’ll ring out forever,
and life will go on to live me
with all my details…

( More Poems by Eduard Harents)


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