By: Linda M Crate you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force them to drink; similarly you can harass my mother, but you cannot force me to speak— we are not friends nor will we be again…
By: Vasundhara Dudeja A gloomy star amidst the starry night. It twinkled upon the world; Overtaken by woes and plight. Shining on the surface, With quivering insides. It was a gloomy star amidst the starry night. It stretched itself, Beyond it\’s…
By: Pijush Kanti Deb Mind and soul – the two hosts wait always to welcome their body- ashamed , confused and hesitated for collocating its head with their own hats but the careful body keeps examining by turn head to…
By: Pijush Kanti Deb Sometimes I feel myself a kite flying thousand miles up above your mesmerizing hand holding me with the veins of your heart and I find myself too standing in a meadow of twinkling stars looking at the…
By: Pijush Kanti Deb Sunrise in the tune of morning prayer and a lazy flow of whispering breeze carrying the scent of love bloomed somewhere in a muddy meadow and an enchanting melody of her passionate calling for her man…
By: Hardeep Sabharwal How can I forget the color of that pink shirt, And the smile of a translucent face, In the young darkness of evening. That fifteen minutes touch, Or maybe any other of that kind, That turned me positive…
By: JD DeHart I am thankful for social media and its constant reminder of our wiser choices, its flattering and unflattering images It’s truth Thank God for the landscape of disconnected lines that tie us to one another, without sight…
By: JD DeHart When we first arrived, we noted the flora and fauna, spoke with the wise queen and made sure to locate the dumpster When we first arrived, we communed with the ancient tree spirits that surrounded the canvas of…
By: Matthew D. Laing Darhaven’s grey, lifeless walls have fallen to ruin. Weather beaten and eroded; mortar crumbling into fine powder; beams of an almost ancient wood soaked and rotting; muddied and impassible road winding up Winby’s Hill, all features…
By: Kousik Adhikari You have made me a history Cautiously hiding the scriptures That may cause you write again Of those lips or hands That denies my story of existence, Slow not to find that we shall speak again Of…