By: Somrita Urni Ganguly And everytime I heard that song, I could see you next to me, hear your voice, feel your breath, sense your whispering passion. And so I stopped listening to that song; stopped looking for your smell in…
By: Somrita Urni Ganguly (You’ve read the Laila-Majnu story, have you not? This one is slightly different. The poet wrote it after Majnu was lost to her.) Laila uttered Qais’s name like a prayer every night – his face was the blood…
By: Fredrik Zander Estranged by adorers, Scattered in the absent wind; This vacuum is a bird of prey. Too late for the news of the world; Too soon for the fascination Strangers bring to light. “Could there be tomorrow”, I…
By: Fredrik Zander I can’t remember the name of the game; I just remember to wear and to bear My shame, In someone else’s name. To see apart from a point of view, Try develop a photograph Of dew, For…
By: Bamgbose Gabriel In perfect peace She sleeps after being Coaxed with tender palms And lulled with soothing rhymes… …..The peace of a child She smiles from her dream Exposing her toothless Alveolar ridge, turning Several times to find A…
By: Bamgbose Gabriel The trees dance As the heavy wind whistles Like an umpire in the green field Opening the long-awaited march It’s about to rain The hackles of the firmament Has risen, risen and ready To vent their anger…
punctured in love repaired in grief i‘ve dreams still left i know in brief i search for peace but not in leisure hard work is my duty that’s my only pleasure love was an ordeal it’s now a memory passions exist no…
Once upon a timeI plundered eggsfrom a rickety khokhain my villagenestled in the hillsand ran into the corn fieldsthough chased by houndsand a gaunt owner. Hardly had I tastedthe albumin andchewed the yolkwhen a bolt of metalincapacitated meflattened meamid the…
Your sulky countenance, once source of infinite affection, now drives me angry impatient indifferent and repulsive. That feeling of innocent tussle which brought us closer each day has walked out unnoticed untold. The sunlit fields irrigated by our sweat replenishing…
By: Morgan O’Connor At sun up she escaped by cab. I miss her as much as the time before I knew the taste of perfect bread, spice of exquisite soup. souls proudly inter-floundering, curl of a pounding wave. our searches are…