THE SECOND INTERFACE ~BY NITIKA PRASAD
All seemed lightening when grew darkness within
Blur lights were going grey when the sun looked yellow
The sun set with the last particle of light
Does that mean Panspermia spread?
Poems
TWILIGHT PASSED ~BY MICHAEL MAUL
As I stand at the edge of a cliff I find myself terrified of an ugly truth staring me in the face.
To jump off this cliff would be a terrible disgrace.
Despite the pain that has claimed sanctuary in my brain I prefer to move forward.
SHE BLEEDS ~BY ANGELINA ROLSTON
Eve,
Divine creation,
God’s wondrous portrayal of womanhood,
She bleeds,
A testament to Mother Nature’s rhythm,
Each month, she bleeds.
TEXAS SERENADE ~BY ANGELINA ROLSTON
Under the Texan sun’s golden embrace,
In Austin’s embrace, 1975’s whispered grace,
A girl, her hair a tapestry of auburn hues,
Tends to the land, her familial dues.
MERCY OF AN ANGEL ~BY ANGELINA ROLSTON
At the periphery of my vision,
I glimpse,
A maiden with alabaster eyes,
Snowy locks,
And a gown as pale as moonlight,
She radiates,
From head to toe,
I’m captivated.
INDEFINITE CLOSURE ~BY MICHAEL MAUL
Tears of a weeping willow on a tree lined street in Biloxi indulge my depression.
You have earned every emotion you own.
Clouds of wisdom pass on the knowledge of the universal truth.
GENOCIDE ~BY MOHAMMAD SAFIQUL ISLAM
If they die without eating
Do ferocious animals kill their own kind?
Do tigers, lions eat themselves?
So much so that weapons hate war violence
occupation
A POET IS THE MELODY OF A BROKEN LYRE ~BY UJJAL MANDAL
When the broken lyre can’t hold music,
Poet is there being the muse of a melody.
When winter makes all drowsy and numb,
Poet is there holding the spring flowers.
Poet becomes a nightingale voice.
FOR IN OUR HAIR, A STORY IS TOLD ~BY ANGELINA ROLSTON
Us,
With naturally red hair
Remind those of flames dancing in the wind,
Autumn leaves ablaze with colour,
And Sunsets painting the sky in hues of red and orange ,
IN SEARCH OF HAPPINESS ~BY MOHAMMED SAFIQUL ISLAM
IN SEARCH OF HAPPINESS
I have found you a lot of happiness in the world
I’ve been around people’s doorsteps for so long, I understand
They are happy in broken houses and lack of sidewalks
How rich are the unhappy people, steeped in comfort
Finding happiness in the wrong way.