By: Barry Vitcov “I’d like to purchase a replacement battery for my pacemaker,” said the short, white-haired, slightly bent over woman with inquisitive green eyes. She stood at Saul Gold’s battery kiosk in the St. James Square Mall with a…

By Thy Young Shakespeare Background These poetry pieces are compilations of poems from a current draft novel called Elexander the 3rd.  Set in the 1800s, an epic story presented as a fictional romance novel.  The story depicts the romance between an English…

By: Hardeep Sabharwal 1. The way to end Ending slowly is Always better than Ending in a single moment When in a moment Any relation, object or person Comes to an end It is unbearable moment of separation But when…

By: James G. Piatt Thoughts in the Night The night is almost silent, only the gentile tic-tocking sound of the old grandfather clock heralding in the late hours, and the soft din of my thoughts stream softly into the atmosphere….

By Jamal Siddiqui “Don’t give any name to my love” I have met her in good faith, we both share the relationship of Heart, do not name it She appreciates my lips, lives in my heart, resides in my soul.do…

By Jamal Siddiqui “It is easy to be Human, very hard to be Humane” – Miza Ghalib We’re all born human, it isn’t something that’s gifted to us or something we have to work for. It simply is. Often times,…

By: Maya Nalawade The left side of my brain was nurtured with the sounds of Grandma’s Wagner records. The fluttering sounds of violins and booming hydes sinking Awe to the corners of the rooms. The echoes rippling through the Air….

By: Debraj Bhattacharya A worried DM The District Magistrate of district Ajeebpur, Mr. Hari Sachdev IAS, is a worried man. He has just received a letter that a high-profile delegation from UN is coming to see the present condition of…

By: Shilpa Rajagopal Purpose is a funny word deliberate and assuming what is your Purpose? they ask as if everyone is born knowing this fundamental truth, following a linear road as if there is singularity or absolutism to abstraction, to…

By: Kushal Poddar A Sonnet For Paradox’s Repeat Offender We skedaddle from remembrance and its strict policing, yet here we stand- midst a street of broken houses, holes for the walls. Memory’s widened its reach. We have souvenirs from the…