Poetry

Umesh Bajagain

COVID

The virus came

with a blow

smacked me in the face

blew me out slow

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Srividya Sivakumar

Cornfower Caresses

In Coonoor, childhood tumbles

down a hill to find its way home. 

The cobra lily has made a comeback.

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Smitha Vishwanath

Omid

Seven years she’d waited for him

She’d prayed five times each day

At fajr, zuhr, asr, maghrib and isha

On the nineteenth day of Ramadan

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Mutiu Olawuyi

We All Can’t Breathe

I’ve toured the whole protests;

All enjoined but one detest:

You cannot campaign for best

and converge for States – unrest!

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Parneet Jaggi

Taste of Ashes

In a remote village
amidst silent hills of the Himalayas,
a tale of the ashes lures every passerby.
Smoke lighting up the azure sky

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Melissa A Chappell

Birds Cry

What do the birds cry

when the sun sinks upon a killing,

and the taken life feeds the hungering, blood-rich soil of a nation,

as it has for centuries.

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Himadri Lahiri

Spectacles

In the worst of times my specs too have betrayed.

Only the day before yesterday

it fell from my hand, lost its shape and swayed.

Though the lenses remained intact    

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Ra Sh

Mango

When I die, will you come with me?

I asked my mango tree.

She pondered for a while and replied wisely

When I was a sapling,

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Scott Thomas Outlar

Without Leash

Mellow is the fog hanging heavy with persuasion

all the doves are cooing near the edge of absolution

but nature doesn’t forgive without a bite

One more dance of light behind the optics of transcendence

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 Obinna Chilekezi

Our Global Village

as while in school, we’re

warned of dangers of going global

for a big small village, but we thought only

of the passion and money, the beauty and trade

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Sutanuka Ghosh Roy

Walking

She is Rumki

No one knows whether she is a Muslim or a Hindu

She mops the floor in a sari shop in the city

Babu tells there are insects in the air

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By Chandni Santosh

Mulberry Tree

The day we returned from the mulberry tree,

You bought me a pair of gold anklets,

With the thirteenth symphony set inside,

The symphony of sadness.

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By Madhu Srivastaw

Double Dread

Corona cries all around

Amphan raged destruction             

Yet I am me

Living on day to day

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Ndue Ukaj

The world is sneezing

The world is sneezing in front of a virus

that has bound the earth and shakes it like a light toy.

People are panting like dogs after a long and aimless journey.

Everyone panting, and behind walls they compose a symphony of fear.

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Bibek Adhikari

Karma

Words dribble down from the corners

of your mouth. From within the temple,

gods tremble with your frosty voice—

they now need a glass of moonshine.

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Karunakaran (Translated by Aditya Shankar)

No Warplane Has Ever Flown Like A Bird

No warplane

has ever flown like a bird,

has lost way like a bird,

has halted mid-flight reminiscing a bygone aroma.

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By Dr Rumpa Das

Love 2020

Nowadays,
I don’t go anywhere near where you live –
Spring is elsewhere.
The flowers in your garden have wilted…

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Amrita Sharma

Love in the times of quarantine

Prologue

Your confessions never mattered,

Your agreement was never my call,

Your choices never governed mine,

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Stefan Markovski

Following the white griffin’s trail

In a body of demigod beast imperial shadows of chthonic forces douse

kingdoms united into the singularity of all beings

become golden ruins under steel-feathered wings

in an incense smoke sighs are clothed through which gods send answers

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Amrita Saikia

Will there be?

I sat listening to the tap tapping of the raindrops,

And the blissful sound of the wild mountain stream,

I smelled the pure and pristine air of the valley,

Laden with the sweet scent of orchids…

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Jee Leong Koh

The Chef

Unctuously fried oyster omelet.

Hainanese chicken rice. Sambal fish balls

pierced on a stick, as in the old night markets,

airborne kerosene lamps lisping with a flair.

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Gopal Lahiri

Lockdown Blues

Sometimes there is a night you just want

to get so far away from,

fire burns out in life’s long years,

memories are plucked, timid words wipe the window

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Vandana Kumar

At Arm’s Length

It felt like another eon

This surely wasn’t our century

Plagued by something

As evil as the bubonic

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Sarra Colleno

North London Nativity 

Year 2 file into the assembly hall,

For parents, arrange the order they stand.

In dreidel graphics, white and blue. Or all

Gold jewellery, bindis and henna hands.

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Kashiana Singh

Three dimensions, home and more

Sailboats at sea

Neglected rains

Dehydrate my bones

Outlandish refrains…

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Sushant Kumar BK

Soul of a Single Mother

You know? I was a single mother,

Hear my story of pain.

I struggled to raise my children,

Putting my own hunger in shade…

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Sarita Jenamani

Corona Nights

When our nocturnal solitude

makes us mourn the moment given

we should think of the images

of those handwritten notes…

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Anjana Basu

The Mythology of Gyres

Like a circle in a spiral

like a wheel within a half heard song

from a womb

my father talking strategy to my yawning mother

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Michael Bailey

When silence finds its way between the soft

When silence finds its way between the soft
seconds of a hushed reminder,
the unquiet dark will soon fill…

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Biju Kanhangad

(Translated by Aditya Shankar)

The Girl Who Went Fishing

Beneath the blue waterline,

father’s catch basks in the sunlight: a fish.

The gray-black of crows shroud the pale oar.

Reddish crabs reach the shore, transcending

the festered basket discarded by mom.

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Vatsala Radhkeesoon

Unconditional Thread

Born from
the Divine’s golden thread
Molded with
perfection, purity and grace

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Himani Sood

To-do List:

Today I will fall out of love with you.

I’ll sweep out the motes of dust
that clung to your feet.
Each speck a single story,
of your worldly being.

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Pavol Janik

New York

In a horizontal mirror

of the straightened bay

the points of an angular city

stabbing directly into the starry sky.

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Abdelmajid Erouhi 

A “Borderless” Poem

Never talk to a bee as it is fecundating a sunflower,

Never talk to a butterfly as it is flying over a daisy,

Just keep seeing and thinking, and never glower

At them, just wonder on the way they go crazy!

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Jibonanada Das ( Translated by Suparna Sengupta)

BANALATA SEN

For a thousand years, am I trailing the paths of this earth —

From the oceans of Ceylon, amidst darkling nights, to the Malay seas

Much have I wandered; To Bimbisara and Asokas ghostly days

Have I been; even farther, to the distant dark Vidarbha wen;

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Dr.Santosh Bakaya

Black Beauty
It was just a small thing.
Come to think of it, not actually small,
but pretty big.
Huge and black. A Black Beauty.

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Juan Pablo Mobili

The Mending Egg

To Victoria, my grandmother

My grandmother had inherited
a wooden egg from her mother who
had used it to mend countless old socks;

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Pravat Kumar Pradhy

I am a Woman

the stones stack

one above another

in deep silence

void mingles with the wind

rumbling into the emptiness

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Aditya Shankar

Katsaridaphobia/Gospel According to Cockroaches

And the insect haters, repellent sprayers, broom

wielders will eventually reside beneath soil:

the second life. The hand that swats thy loved

ones will lie defenseless. Time of cockroaches

and oppressed shall arrive.

Orbindu Ganga

Praying Mantis

Painted in a shade 
Rested in her cave,
Silent enough to be staid
To be camouflaged

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Manu Dash

Virus

The ocean is now equipped to endorse swimming.
It’s time to endure the ineluctable annual trip.
The sky mirrors the swashbuckling journey;

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Matthew James Friday

The Birds in These Strange Times

A pair of kites have come for the lake

now the airport is closed, buoyed by empty

skies, rustling wooded hills, lacey waters.

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Gauri Dixit

Lockdown dilemmas

The blades rotate at a constant speed

My eyes etch a pattern on the thick layer of dust

‘The fan will not clean itself’

The mind says

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Dr Sangita Swechcha

Eyes and Tears

Over the rim of the eyes

welled weary are the tears                                         

asking the eyes—

“Should I trickle or not?”

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Dustin Pickering

The Moment

Before I met you, my life was full of joy.

Before I met you, my life was full of fear.

The day I met you was fearful and joyful,

a joyous unbinding from merciless wounds

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Vasile Baghiu

Happening

Yesterday, I met poetry
on the stony Loch Long shore,
near Ardpeaton.

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Amit Shankar Saha

Fear in Times of Corona

Fear of your inexistence

surrounds me at night

like muggers in a dark lane.

Fear that hoods my head,

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Barnali Ray Shukla

Still Breathing

Her home wears nothing but a silence

that waits–where noir feels warm like

a quilt of breaths, as it begins to reel in

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Ali Jan Maqsood

And then it begins…!

Gestured the mountains of the outlooks

Offered dryly, albeit, wet in nature

The glittering beauty of the flowers Out in the sun of shadow

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Moinak Dutta

Living in the times of Lockdown

Living in the times of Lockdown

Is curiously surreal,

For spaces we, the humans leav, are claimed by others,

Like pigeons come in flocks to dance on the chowrasta,

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Basudhara Roy

Pidgin, Pockets and more…

In teeming landscapes of

punctiliously ordered signifiers,

I strive to break free of grooved

meanings to rebelliously create

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Eduard Schmidts-Zorner

Thread of Life

I tie the Ariadne’s thread

into my wide-meshed cardial net,

where points of view dissolve

and deep thoughts evolve.

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Annie Blake

The Boy with The Yellow Light and more

/ for the cupid charges his dart / but to dodge love / for eros is invisible without a lamp /and who the hell knows who we’re really marrying / and venus was angry she had to come down to earth / for kenosis is giving up being god / living between the dark /

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Mutiu Olawuyi

In The Midst of The Plague

Stay home not with fams            

Cleanse not your palms                      

Dash no space                                             

Be deaf… –                                                  

Death!                                                                             

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Melissa Chapell

Elmhurst, O Elmhurst

Elmhurst, O Elmhurst,

I did not know you in your mothering shift

of glass and mortar.

I ticked off your name in my mind

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Mallika Bhaumik

love quarantined

I pull up the blinds
and look at the glassy darkness waiting outside,
night is a pause,
droplets of the day’s fatigue gathered in its palm,

Christian Manners

In Solitude’s Splendour

In solitude’s splendour, I was blessed

by that graciously guiding breeze,

fervently free with towering thoughts,

as I philosophized amidst the trees…

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Nabina Das

When the Quotidian Wrote our Notes of Isolation

We were brought up by folks who respected the encrusted time,

wound in their watches every morning, opened windows to days.

They swept the morning breeze with either their prayerful ways

or brisk footprints out about the gardens of mint and marigolds.

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Desmond Kon

The Contingency of Saying

If I say I love you.

If I say this love we share will be our last.

If I say we should trust our every emotion.

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Aditya Shankar

The Tiniest Man on Earth

Was so tiny

he did not belong among humans.

Too big for microbes and fungus to befriend.

Too small for mushrooms

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Sheldon John Dias

Gazing into a mirror on a Saturday morning…

As I gaze into the crystal flattened and stretched

I search for meanings – of life and of memories etched.

Who am I?

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Melissa A Chappell

Pandemic

Do you remember,

as the alarm bells were crying,

how we were silent in the sun,

our blood oiling red with the ruins of the sun.

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Marc Nair

Rasam

In her last hours, birdlike,

heaves of brittle breath

flutter like grace notes

in a sodden sonata.

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Ra Sh

Two Covid-19 viruses meet Albert Camus

Two covid-19 teenage viruses walked around the city

assessing the damage. On Route vers l’ouest, they found

mansions with cars parked in front and little gardens.

Four dogs ran out of the house dragging a well dressed

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Nalini Priyadarshni

Come to the Summer of my Arms

Come to the summer of my arms

the winter of our discontent has lasted too long

peppering our wisdom with salt and snow

settling into nook and crannies of our being

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Nishi Pulugurtha

Witness to times past

A garden tracing its time back

Centuries,

The river flowing by

As it had always done

They have been there together

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Sarita Jenamani

Winter in Vienna 

Winter is usually foggy here 

It blurs the reflection of your dream 

in the mirror of your imagination 

Night does not sojourn here 

but when the snowy night 

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