Ray of Hope
by
Sneha
Singh
Sulky,dark,lonely,broken,shredded
all in pieces once again.
Heart
is broken,mind is stressed,Im not me once again.
Whom to
blame,whom to yell at,my soul is not mine once again.
Sitting on a
barren land not to hold any hands once again.
Wish to fight
back,wish to hope high but suffering the pain once again.
Hurdles may
rise,i may fall yet i wanna stand up once again.
People may
come,they may go,i wanna survive alone once again.
Dont wanna give
up,dont wanna die i wanna grow up once again.
I was strong,im
stronger il b the strongest i wanna show it once again!
Silence for Oil
By
Mohammad Kebbewar
Death by Improvisation
Eastern Aleppo is levelled
Experimental weapons
Smoke screens and corporate greed
Bombs fall on Aleppo
like fireworks on a national
celebration
I had never seen a bomb with pink
smoke
Like a jelly fish releasing its ink
The sound of buildings collapsing
like a truck unloading gravel stones
Children are lost beneath the rubble
Memories and lives rise in whiff of
smoke
The newspaper does not report the war
They say the war has been going on
for too long
People are bored
Aleppo on my Mind
By
Mohammad Kebbewar
The sun opens my heart
The world begins
My chest expands as the day
begins its journey
Into the coming of winter
The warmth of my country
The place of my birth shiver
Under
Cluster of bombs and missiles
Poison colours the sky
An iceberg of silence
In my adopted country
I let go of the pain
I hold on to my truths
Home will never be the same
The dust falls crashing from the
blast
Eats away my childhood memories
and leaves holes in my soul.
The Immigrant
By
Mohammad Kebbewar
A toddler washed
out on the Mediterranean coast
The image shocks
the world
His giggly face
fills the TV and computer screens
It takes a child to
change foreign policy
A family in the
jungle
They walk seven
thousands kilometres
through rivers
mountains and barbed wire
Chasing a mirage
Twisted knees,
ankles, and blood
soaked in their
bandages
as they cross an
ancient continent
Beneath their
footsteps soldiers marched as they fought Europe into pieces.
The family of five
slept in the wilderness of their nightmares
The fear of being
arrested and turned back.
One person stays
awake all night
A migrant crisis
turned human
A civilized
conscientious melts like ice cream in the desert
You can die in your
own country
no problem
but don't show at
our doorsteps.
An arrest
An illegal crossing
An ocean of humans
washes on foreign soil, a safer address
An address without
a home
A home without an
address
Bow bridge, central park
by
Anu Mahadev
cast-iron
ripples
molten
steel-cut lake.
i
stroll toward the archer's hand
that
wields a violinist's bow
from
the ramble to cherry hill.
urns,
rise from abutments.
i
adorn in my hair the reluctant
lilies
from the conservatory.
you’re
here, my beloved, always.
i
find you here in metallic winters,
in
beauty’s summers.
is
that you on the balustrade,
in
its intricate etchings?
i
wait and watch - an arrow, a glance,
how
they stage a coup, seize the perimeter,
unseat
my unwilling heart.
In the bedroom
by
Anu Mahadev
damask
curtains. egyptian cotton sheets.
dust
ruffle. immaculately folded.
she
sits on a corner of the bed, careful
not
to disturb the precision.
one
micro-movement and she’s
smoke.
the migraine sears through her
battered
nerves. she has cast herself into
a
hologram. with names a la avatar.
strongest
in daytime. he leaves her every time.
only
the method varies.
she
screams at the phantom limb
pain
from her non-existent heart.
it’s
been carved out with a butcher’s knife.
she
is on fire. this is the agony she must suffer
to
be a poet. she sits motionless at 7am, 2pm,
9pm,
doesn’t matter - on the same turned-out
corner
of the same bedspread. holding her knees
together.
keeping herself from spilling out.
she
stares at the bottle of sleeping pills. her eyes
dart
to the telephone. still in pajamas, she waits.
Bar island, maine
by
Anu Mahadev
i
cross bridge street & traipse along the edge
of
bar harbor. my feet gauge the high tide,
my
silver toe ring latches onto an unfamiliar
gastropod.
i scoop up the pebbles, gravel,
watch
sand slip through my wrinkled
fingers.
the afternoon is tired, late, sun
is a
weak light under a cloud blanket,
rampant
marine life is bathed in sheen.
low
tide sets, i watch crabs scuttle to safety.
mussels,
clamshells - barnacled beyond
recognition,
scattered treasure. my sandals
crunch
them further into calcified oblivion.
i
see the waters recede - the aquatic curtains
are
drawn, stage is set for the big crossing.
ninety
minutes of isolation till the tide sets in again.
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