Poetry

By Bilal Salman Ahmad I still cannot explain to God, what kind of cruelty this is— that you, once my reason to breathe, no longer feel the need for me. Where do I carry this broken heart? Which doorway still holds your name? If only I could summon you back, but even heaven seems too far to reach. My patience is measured in moments, yet your silence stretches into eternity. I wonder if you ever pause, to feel the weight of my restless prayers. Do you remember that evening— whe

By Emma Margaret Expression; Part 1, “Sister” By Emma Margaret. My hair used to be green, then purple, then pink. I dyed it’s conformed brown. Hiding it’s hues in layers of blues, A formed, not born crown. Never remaining the same, It hypnotically appeared soft, angelically crossed. To adjust to a linear escape would be to hesitate, As my hair faltered if it halted. My sister has short hair, It’s genetically blond, with natural highlights. It’s soft and it’s healthy, and she

By Gaukaran Pandey हे प्रेम ! मैं आप को आप कहूँ , या तुम कह तुम पर हक़ दिखलाऊँ ? आप के आगे मौन रहूँ नित , या तुमसे सब कह कह बतलाऊँ ? आप की खातिर रचा गया मैं , या तुम संग मात्र संजोग लिखा ? हैं आईं आप मेरे खातिर ही , या मुझे ही प्रीत का रोग लिखा ? आँखें रोईं कितनी बारी , कितनी बारी दिल तड़पा था । कोई अंत न दुःख का मिलता था , खुद से ही खुद मैं लड़ता था । मेरे प्रेम सुनो ! सौंह राम की है , तुम बिन जीना अब हमको ना । मेरी श्री सीता राधा तुम ही , अब और सहारा हमको ना । हैं आप कृपा क

By CheisJenya I keep this from my children Though my eyes are red Lips are split I keep this from my children Laughter stains Screams echo Broken walls are covered in plaster Fear resides Worn down over the years I keep this from my children Blood-encrusted nails Stay inside the lines Your mother's fine He is a broken man With foolish ways I am his resilient wife A decaying swan By CheisJenya

By ChrisJenya What defines a man? Old men say “It is the war that makes them ready” War that makes them strong War that made them man The blood of victims coat Earth For no reason but To defend one's nation So is it war that defines the man Both sides are fighting for their region's rights Both sides have killed innocents Both sides are simple men  Recruited to fight without much choice. Both sides have tainted jackets Grimed with soil and bloodshed. Both sides Are young men

By Deborah Layton Spring is here in all her splendour. Colours all washed together, as if in a blender. Welcome to longer days,  Where we sit in the sun and laze. Then the rain begins, softly falling, cleansing the air. The trees are budding, sprouting, no longer bare. The hot summer sun blazes overhead,  As we wade in the icy cold river bed. Drinking cold drinks, nibbling on ice chips. Long days, and even longer road trips. Laughing children happiy at play,  Enjoying every m

By Deborah Layton Do you really have all the power, Sitting in your Ivory Tower? Or, have we ALLOWED you to instill fear,  In a life of freedom, we hold so dear? With all that money, you continue the greed, While we continue to suffer and bleed. You do not know how to care, How do you live with yourself, how do you dare?. The smile on your face is full of guile, We know you are evil, you are vile! You are hoping for salvation because of your fame, And we, the unknowns do not

By Deborah Layton Children outside, happily at play,  Knowing they are safe, at least for today. Using rolled up papers for their ball, They giggle out loud, as one of them falls. Suddenly, without warning, streaking across the skies, This is when it happens, this is when someone dies. Where will it go, where is it bound? Tomorrow, so many bodies will be found. There will be families torn apart, People in shock, not knowing where to start. Mothers, fathers, children, in pain,

By Madelynn Ramm When creative writing becomes restricted writing.  You remind me to break free.  You inspire my creative flow, allowing myself to unleash a surge of words.  Previously unable to express.  It seems with your appearance in my life,  I find my artistic nature seeks to write. To paint my feelings. Traversing the canvas and symbolise my truest desire. For your undivided attention.  I wish to hold you,  Claim you, Stand beside you.  Talk freely and easily.  Forging

By Madelynn Ramm The shadow of your smile lingers in my mind. Sending waves of emotion through in kind.  How I miss your voice, your laugh, your time.  For each day I long to make you mine.  My thoughts race and my heart flutters,  Oh, how your presence makes me wish we were lovers.  To hold your hand and take long walks.  To find strangers that sit in rivers and have weird talks.  It’s just some fun, but with you it’s routine.  It this what it is like to truly be seen? It’s

By Penny Gurner A space,  To teach, and learn, Make real the dream of dance Strive for, with patience, to vanquish, A goal By Penny Gurner

By Penny Gurner ‘There’s a storm dog sniffing around,’ said Dad Its breath is blue, and grey Searching the contours of the sky The breeze his mode of play He owned the tree with a spark of light It caught, and smoked awhile It taught the long grass how to burn And hunger for every mile ‘There’s a fire on the ridge, said Dad, Heading down the hill.’ ‘We’ll catch it if we’re lightning fast, And save the Tanner’s mill.’ Days went past, we heard from Dad, The battle was at an end

By Penny Gurner This Game he plays with others’  hearts, and minds A tease, his lure of shock and shame, he can test you, test him, provoke until he finds More blush, more blame, more love untamed, his plan Is it the fate of man, to lose himself? To vain, and artful tricks, addicted fun? The smell of smoke, and booze left on the shelf With day bright eyes, and level-headed sun I feel your love, your heart, I know it’s real, This friendship links us with a taunt of change, It

By Penny Gurner Mind the pulling tides of the inner sea Ripped through, and from, other forms of feeling Hold true course to the uplifted soul’s plea The echoes of a ward I could not see Played by the dark, a window unsealing Mind the pulling tides of the inner sea Child dreamed an image of fox by the tree Filled her with dread, little fish, a reeling Hold true course to the uplifted soul’s plea Police and a phone call informing me News from the ether, misheard it kneeling Mi

By Penny Gurner Grrrrrizzly bear, titular king of the salmon run,  Truculent possessor of your place in the stream Slattery wolf, with your credulous followers Stay back, stay low, stay away from your better, Swim salmon swim, leap, throw, and save yourselves By Penny Gurner

By Penny Gurner Sonic boom boom, barter on bees, Buzzing, from flower to flower. Petals, sip sip, sweet little drips Nectar, to build a world Pollen-sticky sticks, spooling licky-licks Nectar, to build a world By Penny Gurner

By Penny Gurner I showed my brother a view of back-streets The inner-city harbour of modest backyards He said, “I couldn’t live here,” But I thought it beautiful,          A sea of little things                  Falling into, and against each other                           Safe from front, or farce. By Penny Gurner

By Penny Gurner Old house, you fine end of the cul-de-sac Views green tops, shapely rooves, and flight, an edge  Valley sends back hidden sounds to unpack But there’s not much besides, and I over-pledge The lady seems nice, I don’t meet her friend Mistake made, it’s too late, terror instead Eyes held alright, it’s his footsteps that send Threat, with the shakes, my hands holding my head She left her artwork in the morning light News pieces grafted to a mystery stone Sound in

By Penny Gurner The old hospital Map of the brain, down to the water Place of memory-making and forgetting It cried out to become something else:  a school of arts? Discarded records and a red chair Simple exchange in a daily report He refused to wipe his nose The calm became crazy Can you see it? By Penny Gurner

By Amaya Esparza I was caught by a midget of a human,  and so rudely I was held beside the boat  half out of water, their hook lodged painfully in the corner of my mouth. I wasn’t going to fight. I was tired of fighting. The human eyed my threshed, archaic scales, probably finding the sight to be vile. My brown skin which hung in strips was tribute to my escaping of death  a multitude of times. The barnacles that decorated my body  like stars in the sky and the white, tiny se