By: Dr. Gulshan Ara It was a small island in the middle of the Pacific OceanVacationing tourists came from afarColorful flood light painted the canvas of the moonlightFull moon in the sky and music in the air cast a magical…
By: Richard LeDue Canned Corn Left on the Store Shelf I am a genius according to a websitebecause I had some of the characteristicsit listed, like messy handwriting,even though I’ve never eaten a burgerwith the president, and instead writepoems like…
By Taylor Dibbert The child custody litigation Was an opportunity For the two of them To grow closer But the opposite happened. ### Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, the…
By: Annapurani Vaidyanathan Why I write Writing is never just a hobby.Sometimes, it is about giving meaningto words that have been meandering aimlessly along the lanes of your mind.Sometimes, it is about marryingtwo extremely unlikely phrasesjust so you can define…
By: Ranjit K Sahu Frozen night The stars twinkle in the moon glowBut the sky’s darkness is not missedThe earth’s weary from winter bluesAnd with snow showers it is kissed The white expanse is pure for sure,And divine as divine…
By: Jim Bates Frozen icy pondMarsh grass and cattails stand tallNot bothered by snow. Wintery wind blowingGrey skies thick with snowy cloudsWarm blankets await..Horizon fadingFluffy snowflakes ultra-lightSoftening the day. Zero below daySoup simmers while cornbread bakesComfort food delights
By Onkar Sharma Neha Bansal’s “Six of Cups” is a poignant journey through memory, a collection that vividly recreates the landscapes of childhood and youth. Bansal’s strength lies in her evocative imagery, transforming ordinary moments into sensory experiences for the…
By: Bhawna Vij Arora ‘Enigma-the helpless rage/when earth’s convulsions/rub on the skin of your existence. ‘E’ is for Envy-the red-eyed sun/eclipses/the earth in me/you and I burn/like a moth/to embers in this ring of fire. ‘E’ is for Eager-the ants…
By: Harry Lowery Departures losing CO2 in the Jet2 queue,staining Carhartt with heartache,barcodes beep & promises pall between staff & sightseers& parents cheering up children& new lovers arrivingchinos & eyes emptyinto a grey tray, passingSaint Peter with an automatic& cutting…
By: Achingliu Kamei Pristine beauty, they sayBut where do you begin to write? In the Land where oil flows under the hillsLittered with gold dust, black goldOn which everything grows except peaceThe sky is blue, and the mists laden with…