By: Mubarak Said How I Will Visit My Ancestors a day will come,i may be seenon the mountain tops,like a hungry lionathirst for food.i will be there, not to hunt a game,but to see the thatched houses,down the hill.remember, if…
By: R.T. Castleberry DISTANT IS THE MORNING Rain dries on a windy street.Heron skulks the horizon.Never trust a Capricorn’s worduntil you know how it falls to his favor.Leaves pile before me in skittering sweeps.Desert dust scrapescirrus crystals from the sky,drains…
By: Rehanul Hoque At the stroke of midnightWhen under the sway of darkness and dead silenceAll the animals and beings giving way to slumberStand still, as if time hasn’t changed over years-Then some party animals remain obsessed withWomen and wine;…
By: David Francis The Limits of Metaphor People get off the busthat’s lit up like an ocean linerin front of the neon burglar-barredfood store-tattoo-modeling studioand they disperse in all directionsthey might be going to apartmentsor places of businessopen on a…
By: James Aitchison There is a patternto which all life adheres.Earthly binds define us, incorrectly,for destiny wills otherwise.Your life is a strand on my loom.Embedded in your pure and sinner selfare qualities and meritsinherited from past existences.Set free the beauty…
By: Mahathi TATTERED DIARYA knot after a knot, one more and more!Before he felt the ease of looseningumbilical cord, he saw through opened doora waiting world of tangled mortal strings. He simpered at the lady suckling milkand beamed a knowing…
By: Rakibul HassanTranslated by: Mohammad Jashim Uddin Thinking to return—My Western windIntoxicated kissWildly uncontrollable youthWill return with everythingMy sunshine hasn’t become mineSeeing frightened of my hellish fireAngel of paradise returns to ParadiseMy extreme formidable reddish extended hood of surgesUrban-lady is…
By: Jon Carter don’t think how long mustthe soul remainunfed- the leafless treesare pale yellow miragesof themselvesof the springstoic atop frosted hills… …but on the bus when I close myeyes I make themgo away-power? no, only perception. opening my eyes…
By: Michelle Faulkner This is not a quaint case of the bluesNo handkerchief for a dainty cheekI want to howl, I want to shriekI want to tear the world in two As you safely standIn your well-dressed landHanding out ornate…
By: Louis Efron Beautiful Trees Petrified roots cemented deepIn the rigid jaws of Earth Arms struggling against another stormFruit and leaves dead yet unfallen Thrust to crackCrack to break Limb to limb, serpentine rainFills the spaces between Two imposing figures…