By: Pramod Rastogi A Cup Full of Sorrow There is a call from my love.It has touched a chord in my heart.Never has she called me before,Monsoon seems to be not far off. Wilted flowers are looking revived.Faded scent has…
By: Shontay Luna Las Cosas Pequeñas No necesito muchopara ser feliz. Mifelicidad reside enlas cosas más pequeñas; el sol, las nubes, losabrazos de mis hijas,la risa de mis nietos.Hay muchoscosas más,pero terminaré estapoema con esos,porque son losmás importantes. I am…
By: Samanyu Kotha God’s Will A divine forceSweeps through the landBy god’s will, I feel his handHis hand that reachesTo lift me from oblivionHe whispers hopeHe breathes lifeIf it be God’s willTo renew my spiritPerhaps I will walkTo see another…
By: Daniel Moreschi Segmented sets of starlings sharply elevatetowards candescent skies, suspend, then circulatein sync. Their wingspans whisper sunset symphonieswhile manifesting silhouetted symmetries. With poise, finesse and swiftness, they transform the airinto an ever-changing scape; this canvas whereeach turn and…
By: Harppreet M Caur Broken Hearts, Unbroken Spirits: The Man I Loved “I am abused and bruisedBy the man I loved.An innocent, simple girlGone through hell. Innocent childrenLooking at himWondering what’s wrongThey did. Not even our bodies,Our souls are scratched,The…
Short stories hold a timeless place in literature, offering a unique blend of brevity and depth. They captivate readers with concise narratives that often deliver powerful messages. Historically, short stories have been a crucial medium for writers to explore complex…
By: Kenneth M. Kapp Clarisa was overjoyed that her daughter had decided to attend her alma mater in Wisconsin. It was a warm Sunday morning and the rest of the family were already out running errands. She started a fresh…
By: Kenneth M. Kapp ~ ~ ~ The King Is In The Joker cried, “The King is in, the King is in. I know he’s in,” as he was dragged off to the dungeon. He was thrown into…
By: Clive Aaron Gill The day before Mami died in San Juan, Puerto Rico, she whispered, “Gabriela, my beautiful girl, my mattress is for you. Your nana gave it to me.” At ten years old, I missed Mami terribly. I…
(Featured Photo Credits: Roberto Rossellini, Rome Open City (1945)) By John Califano During the early stages of the “pandemic” and the ensuing global lockdowns, I spent serious time in my apartment unsure of exactly what the hell was going on….