By: Moulay Cherif CHEBIHI HASSANI The suffering sun eclipses and takes its distanceTired of our funeral chants and slandersRegrets are hard to be found in its cooled shelves.Since then, our madness has been emboldened by its false defects. The fog…
By: Amrita Valan The mind is a repository, a church,A museum, a junk yardAn attic, a trunk,Stashed away with treasures, puzzlesGems, obsolete ciphers. I have been seeingThe tiny corner tableFrom early childhood todayWith the cumbrousBlack telephone atop. Recalling calls received…
By: S.M. Moore “my thoughts on an obituary” An elegance tends to possess the mindIn dismayI hear about the wind floating along the sea foamAnd how it brushes over the wave caps A woman says: my lover, my lifeYou have…
By: Suchoon Mo in the middle of the desertthere is a kingdom in the middle of the kingdomthere is a casino in the middle of the casinothere is a chapel in the middle of the chapelthere is a casket the…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Jan – the anniversary of his death I doubt you’ve ever heard of him,mere footnote, nation’s history,a martyr, cold war, distant past,in black and white, even the flame,but I was adolescent then. Jan Palach, student, name burned…
By: Dr K. V. Raghupathi The Search Scratching and scraping the ashesto find his father’s on the banks of Gangaas the silken evening light stretches over the gentle flow.Tireless in mid-summer“What are you looking for?”“For the ashes of my father.”“Sixteen…
By: Raj Ratanmala I got awaken by the mellifluous twitter,of a bunch of nightingales;Perceived myself in a peculiar world ,Trees with golden leaves , rivers of pearls,That amiable silence unheard ,Like the sleeping Matterhorn left undisturbed. “Where am I?” ,…
By: Dee Z. Black like a smooth rock in the sunYellow like a goldfinch and wriggling side to side right in front of the man’s footstepThe skinny snake side-winded across the stone and into a hole, a garden drain pipeThe…
By: Arundhathi Anil When Death Came Knocking When Death came knocking at my front door,I put on a cloak,Stepped out and cast a final glance back,For I intended to go. Through his lanky armsI laced my handsLike a belle and…
By Nancy Machlis Rechtman I weep for our countryAnd the promise ofWho we could beAnd should beShredded by craven acts of violenceAnd hatred. We get so close sometimesThere is still so much goodStruggling to overcomeThe purposeful divisionsThat keep us from…