Tuesday, April 23, 2024

Poetry

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...
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...

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...

Ananya S Guha

BLOOD 1 I see the blood in hands of others faces of others smeared like fog or smog, I lift myself from clouds a thin line wavers as I walk into the existence of blood 2 I ask questions the voice is silent asks questions can you rape an eight year old, six months the voice is silent of course, only at the cost of blood 3 I saw a...

Jake Tringali

the authenticity of my butt i now hear that the authenticity of my butt is in question who are these doubters, these trolls naysaying, behind anonymity well, i stand here today and tell you my butt is authentic unadultered, genuine american male ass this is not some cheap foreign knock off no booty magic here, no $5000 enhancements no fat...

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:...
wisdom fire burning to coals poet looking past embers seeing distant world before existence of light coming of god untitled poet on edge meds not refilled lost in black silence static white noise echoing around skull deafening suffering soul seriously considering ways to kill himself answer me telephone without voice no caller id broken-hearted poet wondering if ex-lover quietly bagging shrink routine family counseling necessary before divorce doctor’s dark office framed degrees on the...
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...
GALLERIES IN THE NIGHT Abandoned by all kindly lights To gnash their teeth In penumbras of their own making, What half-bitten talk Peoples the dark galleries Between masterpiece and masterpiece, Restrained from lawless combat By gilt-edged police Or the garth of mortar? The greatest allegories of art Are secret journals kept By that gossip Night Whom no historian of art consults As they...

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...

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...

Ra Sh

THE DECLINING ART OF HEART MENDING Cannot deny that I have a brittle heart, weak and fragile like thin ice! As it happens with hearts that are volleyed back and forth, mine too drop and crack with a crunchy sound, like a bag of wafers. Now, you know that girls make the best cardiologists. The Heart is...