By: Michelle Murray Falling Apart Things don’t seem to beGoing my wayI feel likeI’m falling apartPiece by pieceA little hereA little thereMuscles are soreGray hairs are showingIt’s hard to get up in the morningGet movingThe bed is warm and invitingBlankets…
By: Pramod Rastogi A Cup Full of Sorrow There is a call from my love.It has touched a chord in my heart.Never has she called me before,Monsoon seems to be not far off. Wilted flowers are looking revived.Faded scent has…
By: Shontay Luna Las Cosas Pequeñas No necesito muchopara ser feliz. Mifelicidad reside enlas cosas más pequeñas; el sol, las nubes, losabrazos de mis hijas,la risa de mis nietos.Hay muchoscosas más,pero terminaré estapoema con esos,porque son losmás importantes. I am…
By: Samanyu Kotha God’s Will A divine forceSweeps through the landBy god’s will, I feel his handHis hand that reachesTo lift me from oblivionHe whispers hopeHe breathes lifeIf it be God’s willTo renew my spiritPerhaps I will walkTo see another…
By: Daniel Moreschi Segmented sets of starlings sharply elevatetowards candescent skies, suspend, then circulatein sync. Their wingspans whisper sunset symphonieswhile manifesting silhouetted symmetries. With poise, finesse and swiftness, they transform the airinto an ever-changing scape; this canvas whereeach turn and…
By: Harppreet M Caur Broken Hearts, Unbroken Spirits: The Man I Loved “I am abused and bruisedBy the man I loved.An innocent, simple girlGone through hell. Innocent childrenLooking at himWondering what’s wrongThey did. Not even our bodies,Our souls are scratched,The…
In the early 20th century, modern poetry emerged as a rebellious departure from the structured, often rhyming verses of the past. Pioneering movements like Imagism, led by poets Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot, championed clarity, precision, and vivid imagery. Think…
By: Almustapha Umar What is hope when everything is lost and dreams are dead?I ask myself again and again.Is it a memory that refuses to fade—A fleeting thought that vanishes in shadows?Wait, is it a lost wish—a longing that’s lost…
By: Richard LeDue A Spiritual Awakening of Sorts Your undershirt is three days old,stinks of sweat and whisky,while the dress shirt is limpon the floor like a castoff skin,leaving you fresh, readyfor another lively nightlistening to dead musiciansand so sure…
By: Grant Guy khlebnikov’s funeral will not be televised hlebnikov’s funeral will not be televised laughlaugher hlebnikov laugh vel eh mir vel eh mir vel eh mir rah rah shim boom bah laugh khlebnikov laugh laughter liveslaughter liveslaughter rah rah…