By: Divya Rosaline I do not have the money to travel But I have traveled far and wide I’ve traveled the songs of dark – eyed women With strange men by their side And I have traveled my country’s pain That…
By: Divya Rosaline My past is fractured with memories of you Some injuries, they say, don’t heal. And while I’m one for pragmatisms I’m entangled in those Minutes Seconds Hours and Days When our orbits used to be the same. Not…
By: Shailendra Chauhan Pearl S. Buck, (1892-1973), recipient of the Pulitzer Prize in 1932 and of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1938, said the following about Highly Sensitive People: “The truly creative mind in any field is no more than…
By: – Linda M. Crate always some errand to do something left forgotten spilling into the happiness of autumn, interrupting the peace; wish i had a broom like you could just zoom off and fly to mend any error with a…
By: Linda M. Crate oh, let me bee, i would like to roam free through the skies pollinating flowers with the butterflies – you are sweet with your hair of goldenrod and eyes so blue, but i‘m sorry i tire…
By: Linda M. Crate i‘m just the girl that can’t let go holding onto things long since rotted trying to wish friendships back to life, but once people forget they don’t like to remember or so it seems; i always seem to…
By: Linda M. Crate the sun looks at me lovingly peeping from beneath white clouds, and a bright blue sky pushing me to move on and some days i don’t think of you anymore; but on days like today you‘ve carved…
By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey I stretch like an endless desert You flow like a perennial river I have nothing to hide, nothing to give you have in your sleeve a store of a giver. In your eyes there is confluence…
By: Dr. James G. Piatt The burnt Willow trees On the smoldering edge Of the lazy torpid brook, Bend to the wind like a Nervous, anxious crowd Waiting for the night train, I watch in silence, feeling a Disturbance in the…
By: Dr. James G. Piatt In the room Where the broken Vase exists Dead roses weep In sorrow, Darkness Covers the Rumpled bed, Splintered glass The diary… unfinished, Too late… Lost in Shadows, A window Broken by False promises Of love…