By: Kelly L. Miller Black bird, beautiful black bird, take flightInto the greyness of the nearest nightThrough the blend of darkest ebony and lightest whiteTo the greatest of brand-new twinkling heights Black bird, beautiful black bird, do you ventureTo scope…
‘The Four Colors’ by Ankur is the latest poetry collection that presents the different colours of life in four sections. Published by Kolkata-based Hawakal Publishers, the poetry collection goes deeper to explore the meaning of life through four colours. The…
By: S. B. Julian Two women, burka-covered, meet in the street. They chat. Observers can see nothing but their eyes – when they’re’ close enough. Otherwise they see only two shrouded post-like figures, with voices. Hello Lolo! You’ve put on…
By: Raluca Sirbu I looked for minutes at the picture that he once gave me. He was stretching a smile for the camera; the small six-year-old gave that gift to the person who took the picture. There was another…
By: Gary William Ramsey FILE CABINET OF DREAMS Kill that dream, stop that smile.For after a while, you must fileyour life it seems, by those dreams. God does not file lives alphabetically.He files dreams systematically. It’s been awhile, since God…
By: Abu Siddik The shack was rickety. It stood at the far end of the forest of Khairbari. The yard was covered with long grass and wild weeds. An old watchman, lean, pale, wizened, greasily bearded lived there. For how…
By Douglas J. Lanzo “My Grandfather’s Walking Stick” When I was a boy and stilla few years – but one dream – away from becoming a man,my grandfather presented me withhis prized walking stick,trimmed with his pocketknife froma handsome stick…
By: Rachna Goswami I have walked in someone elses’ shoes several times and have experienced the world of possibilities.I have moved away from home yet found home everywhere .I am young but I have already lived thousand lives without dying.I…
By: The Birch Twins Aaron Michaels missed the goal again, and the shot rebounded harmlessly off the crossbar. “Aw, you fucking ball sack,” my son shouted with his hands in the air, “he’s fucking blind, that mon.” “Like I said,…
By: Ruth Deming Thirty years and I am finally retired from teaching. Finally! I won’t go on about the years flying by unnoticed – but of course it was true. All I really wanted…