By: Leila A. Fortier Melting Into a pool of silenced Thought from the source of our Ephemeral memories~ Something in The way our lips lingered and merged in Trails of whispered testimony~ Wet breath Tasting like the portal of heaven~ Where…
By: Leila A. Fortier I serve my smile to expressionless faces that know not The palace of my heart~ That know not this Language~ That know not this song~ I have fallen deeply Against The Rolling pages Of your tongue~…
By: Adreyo Sen A good flight attendant is the sanctity of service guided by sadness – she is the grey dove transforming into a silent line amidst our feckless ways. Ask a flight attendant the meaning of sadness and she’ll answer…
By: Adreyo Sen A child early on planes will never learn the true meaning of freedom because he has learnt to fly before he has grown wings. Reality, grounded, will keep him crashing till he becomes part of the groveling…
By: Debleena Majumdar She painted the rainbow, He quietly held the corners. She jumped, He was there, tall. She counted the stars, He steadied the ladder. She slipped, His arms broke her fall. She sang a new tune, He held the…
By: Debleena Majumdar You open your bag, take out Alphabets, values, rules, Hoping time will not wash away, The unspoken teachings on the sand. You show her the stars, protect Her from those invisible scars, She runs with you, Tiny fingers…
By: Abhishek Jha I The phone rang waves all around him echoing, bouncing off invisible walls. Petulant ringing, his eardrums on the verge of rebellion. II He opened his eyes stared into the darkness or was it dark at all?…
By: Ranjeet Sarpal Your mother has suffered silently. Washing carrots and potatoes She retorted to his numbing indifference And retired to soybean oil . Perhaps she still loves him. She Preserving his complaints and grievances In the pickle jar…
By: Akash Rumade Twas winter of 89, You were just a kid aged ten. Nothing to lose or to win, You enjoyed breaking window panes. Then one night, twas shiny dark, You were lost searching your almighty’s mark. Maybe he…
By: Linda M. Crate lost in the periphery of your gaze i saw the tulips of red dragon dreams we traverse old haunts you forget me i suppose it’s less painful than remembering because then you’d have to face exactly…