By: Amal El-Sayed 243 stuffed toysRide the yellow school buses in Rynok Square.An excursion of ghosts. 109 empty strollersLine up the cobbled streets of Lviv.A graveyard of children. 2 stuffed teddy bearsSleep in a baby carrier.A remnant of joy. 1…
By: Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Dear First World, Salute to youAccept humble bow, from the Third World.Thank you for the great lectures for fucking idiots.Heads hung low, wide-eyed,we clapped. You sold us your notion of humanity,we lived in a barbaric world.You…
By: Esha Sury WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY? This bone-tiredness to speak ended aspure reprieve. I dispose of my last penand a surrendered dove, as remittance, gaveits’ awareness to me in a dawn of non-talk.I wish plainly to cradle wordless…
By: Pramod Rastogi In Quest of You Since Long Time has lost its rhythm for me.Alternating in cycles the days and nightsAnnounce neither the whispering dawnsNor denounce the hush of twilight woes. Leaving time and space to sleep and yawn,I…
By: Sheila Henry I see you beyondyour humanness,your one of a kind-ness.When you recite your work, itpricks the ears of nightingales,they stand still and listen,their heads tilt to one side,they are captivated by the rich tone of your voice.Same—when you…
By: Travis Weis Our Rock Salt Lives and the Lady Spring It’s arduous breathing in such coldness.The thin serrated air slicing at your throat.Our only defense is shallow breaths to parry the slashes.Yet here you are, defenseless.Hellishly sobbing in the…
By: Blessing Omeiza Ojo On Becoming Preys to Terrorists, I Remember Childhood Exploits.Perhaps, the burning of Borno by herdersis the wind of karma banging on our doors.Most of us raised in the village were bad children.On our way home, after…
By: Douglas Colston Carmen contrā molestiae(A poem against troubles, annoyances, molestation and the vexatious) A rhyming poemcan seem like a tome –a section of a larger work,it’s likely a dubious perk. Constraining the creative processmay lead to a bit of…
By: James Aitchison See the truth within whichour lives are lived and linked.Hear the answerswhich all men have soughtin their allotted lives.You will not be burdened.You will not be mocked.Hear the Voicethat speaks in the silence,the Wheel that spinsthe lives…
By: Frances Leitch Star Bright Sprouting starsof flowers bloomingin fields and meadowsThe birth of springsunshine huesand velvet petalsClothe the earthin faces of lightwashing offthe tinge of nightStar Bright Little Bird In the chilly mornWhen the sun rises uppast the songbirds…