Desert, her eyes are morsels to the jasmine and roses once grown from her wrists, between the flowers in each white finger, whilst the moon falls, leaves barefoot in winter, deserved for posturing an abyss this dance, like an atramentous sea; woman to the ebb and flow of flower bedded lips to firstborn… Read More bloom.
A five year-old was diagnosedwith terminal cancer The adults wept and wailed The child could not understandWhy are you weeping and wailing? The adults could not understandWhy are you not afraid? Because I am going to a placeI’ve never been before I’m excited. This is based on a true story I heard on the radio… Read More “A Five Year-Old” by Don Matthews.
lie across the taurobolium at the motherless spring without feeling, without breath; pale mulberries infiltrate the wind in ice dark of obscured dreams by the sea-green void, vanishing by the surf, as the fresh dew slumbers in the whiteness of morning exorcised with twigs of the dying trees. flicker with the nightly, strange sea, the… Read More Ice dark (the world is dreaming).
Harms can be healed by pills How to heal the harms of soul? Remedy is precious yet free Used least wisely yet widely It’s… The magic of “Words” Words can touch and sooth the soul Words can heal others and self Words can do miracles Words can move mountains of miseries Let’s just not be… Read More “Heal” by Navnidhi Vyas.
Dancing in the night, you and I, And laughing in delight. You only recently became a Daydream but have always been here, Running beside me as I Escape the reality around me, And chase the dreams that Mock my deepest fears. Not my most brilliant piece of work, but hey, writing this poem inspired two… Read More “Daydream” by C. Wesley Tanner.
I’m fat, I’m big, I’m huge, I’m dark, I’m lean, I’m skinny, I’m subtle too, terms of comparison seems irrational Earth is diverse ranges in color, creed, ethnic, and race. We distinguish ourselves as an outcome of minute peculiar change. But end up Emphasizing condescension on all antonyms. Did you ever ponder the implication of… Read More “Episodes of Distress” by Kevin Davis.
Hello everyone. I have three published poems (“To Accede Into My Own Desires”, “Deep in my Heart”, and “Beneath”) in Variant Literature magazine, specifically in their Second Chance Anthology. My poems are credited under my pseudonym Ellie Onka. You can either order the anthology here or read the free PDF instead. You can find my… Read More Variant Literature Magazine Publication.
Like the Sun that shines, radiating bright light, a guru disseminates thoughts lofty and wise. Using his power, directness, and mystical might, pulls you out of every single and dangerous vice. Get closer to your guru, feel the spiritual rise, an elevation that could get you to the worlds beyond; but if you utter untruths… Read More “Ballade for the Ultimate Seeker” by Stavyah.
Groomed with anchors of girth in youth, Pierced from the centre; a silver in the rough Native fires brimming in her heart Like an imago, queuing birth. My lives are a mystery and everynow, here! I’m a gem of promise, Often a want, amidst the midst of sufferings. A potent of the earth, wafted of… Read More “Patience Ignites” by Benyin.
Story Once upon a time Is how stories usually begin Promising adventures In worlds unknown Even though it’s just paper Markings And ink It can take you across the world And back In time for dinner Pull out a flashlight For late at night Get hooked on the characters And love them And cry for… Read More “Story” by Elle Wilson.
A wish, these solitudes in dark wept, midnight exits in a dream, torturing you; emerges in oceans, as if the face of the sea-light is in a trance of wander, a dark mind urges this end of game; the half-lit stretch devours death quietly in hyacinth winter as we left; … Read More out of reach.
Yes you can Cut off my tongue But no you can’t Stifle the songs unsung Of my seared soul Yes you can Cut off my hand But no you can’t Ignore the demand Of my sinewy stump Yes you can Cut off my legs But no you can’t Sever the steely pegs Of my rebel… Read More “Yes You Can” by Satyen Hombali.
I’m just going to push the boat out,spit some words and mess about.That’s what I love about writing,when you start out you have no idea what to talk about.Then words just appear out of thin air,with flare, with the power of a prayer. Single words can lead to warfareor they can take you from little… Read More “Independence” by Martin The Poet.
When I was still waiting for you, you called me to say “Let’s break up!” I thought you were playing a prank on me; But it was the worst I felt when you really meant it. I am cursing myself, it shouldn’t be in my fate! You had reasons to quit me, but I have… Read More “I still exist!” by Offshore Writer.
She must be a queen of innocent eyesShe must’ve sweet smell of incenseShe must be a stunning beautyShe must be a quiet music of all your poetry. But she chose her own path, not with you, might be with someone elseI’m sure you must’ve helped her in that alsoAnd masked your scratched, bleeding heart with… Read More “Closed Eyes” by Navnidhi Vyas.
Leopard’s paws white like scolecite stones faceted to fingernails to the death of the wild, a resemblance to a beast, a blaze of light, and to the gods, their hand in life and death; feral blood, extinction, a feeling of a dream in crystal architect reading the skylight, gathering life in the leaves during the… Read More His eyes.
Stare at the ceiling, I am an afterthought, dreams cast forgotten memories in twilight’s tongue rivaling alone the silence of the world that pretends to be still, when it’s fucking not; I wake in the room alone, I intend to sleep; in weakness, the oeuvre is loneliness as it slips bloodily on begotten words undefined… Read More Forgotten (to silence).
A writer yearns to tell their story, any story,that will stand the test of timefull of hardships conqueredand inspire generations with hope. The story shall feel whimsical,not so much with fairies dancingbut that there is a happy ending. The story shall have brevity,not so much as a long weathered talebut one that details just enough.… Read More “A Story of Hope” by Kimberly Ray.
Down the corridor, comes a scream Was it physical pain or the horror of finally learning the way this game is turning They took your clothes gave you a gown there was nothing to do but lay right down Now, the machine breathes for you hung by a thread and leaving soon Faint flashes behind… Read More “Renee By A Thread” by Tom Alexander.
Memory elides into the eyes there (let it die) in the sloth of dreams, it is a protest against the ice shadow of what the fuck were we thinking under the frail permanence of memory, this stir dislocated into cracked lilacs red born as species, the earth moves the rock. The ocean shivers each broken… Read More Memory.