Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Poetry

Amit Parmessur

Grandmother Drawing circles like a schoolgirl on the blanket with her finger, she soon detects black ants along the wall, and becomes a traffic cop mad at disobedient vehicles. With her white hair tangled in neglect, she soon turns into a smiling tyrant who tosses swear words like macro* and bobok** at us all. She watches the same...
Wargame Speak. Seek. Advance. Retreat. Say a word. A thought or two. Sing for me. You know you want to. Canoe down the river. Climb up the waterfall. I’ll be here when you get back. Waiting to give it all. Or maybe I’m not here. I’m deep-sea diving somewhere. I’m searching for...

Devika Basu

The Touch Last night I woke up to a dream. Foam in the sea trying to catch time in myriad forms; my limbs drenched in waves my hands outstretched. A dream touching the timeless Alone The street lights greet me in benevolence when I look at the night with a watchman’s eye. Traffic pauses to think how busy the road is, and I become...

Manu S Kurup

Tarmac Labyrinth Have you ever forgotten a road only to travel through it years later? The old smell of it coming back, the same branches leaning towards same shadows designing it weaving nets The same emptiness and potholes. Doesn’t it make you reminisce about the things you passed? Left behind? Glanced at and Ignored? If you haven’t tried to recollect the stops you made...

Josh Dale

Haiku 1 The flowers have bloomed and the locusts devour any sign of life. 2 Oily dressing with the pit-marked spinach leaves on my baby-blue plate. 3 A doe has died on the searing blacktop. It still continues to smile. 4 My gaze, downward, with all the plastic faces here; coffee stains shirt brown. 5 Break up in tiny distinct pieces. Now, your heart is not the same. 6 Please and...
Jalebi of Mani’s Shop These semi-precious ornaments Of liquid golden hue, they filled it with the sweet sap Of sugar—the very outlook causes watering in mouth That melts and crackles under the tongue and dissolves A forgetful evening. Home-bound passengers from local trains, As they return, all in a hurry like with a puff of...

Joan Leotta

The Widow’s Nights “Days are not so bad. My volunteer work. Lunch with friends. Gardening. All of these fill the daytime hours. But it is the nights— they are so long, so very long.” I don’t know how to respond. We smile at each other in a moment of silence. Then, she adds, “If you have any alterations you need done, bring...
Sea-Smart Lion has your tongue A fool sold you pride Buyer’s remorse when eagles scratched three eyes If you only have one bullet better make sure that it’s pure silver If you’re bound to draw your sword just promise me that you won’t drop it Tiger has your tell-tale A spell cast your path Sweetest reward when whales do higher math If...

Dah

Birds Every star has a crack This is how the flash releases the radiance of living things To make sense of this is to know that a bird’s migration is the stars magnetic draw the conveyor from North to South and back again. This generates a bright effect on our lives because birds are a testament to the lightness of innocence to the graceful...

Sanjeev Sethi

Conation Between perceived hurts and intended harm I cottoned myself to a kingdom of one. Here even the wind fails to tease me. Air-condition- ing has its advantages in intramural settings. Earthshine is nature’s compensatory face. How does the human construct simulate this model to hum its way to happiness? Game plan is within us. Unwrap yourself:...

Tuhin Sanyal

THE FINAL DRAFT I've started living after my death! I was killed Some four years back— Stabbed and drowned! ’Twas a shallow stream; I quivered out, (Ah! Blessed ghoul!) Was yet again Earth-bound With the hope Of new love And assassins For my carcass soul! I've lived and died Many times In my secular half And your non-religious (w)hole! Faced umpteen deaths, Say, in Mohenjodaro, And in the Mayan...
Sanctification The pimples on my face seem to have an identity of their own. As if, those are my sins penalized to be worn. However, they make me look a graceful lesser mortal. Thankfully unattractive like Sycorax. A rose infested by fungi. Oddly, they seek a lot of attention: Hormonal imbalance? A digestive disorder? A passion pimple! A dispassionate cycle? Innumerable diagnosis followed...