Read Poem: Erstwhile Enemies by Christopher Hickey

When I look above the treeline,

I see the clouds opening,

just enough.

A gull embraces flight,

and I track it across the late afternoon sky.

The clouds are indecisive.

Rain? Sun? Neither.

Just the remainder of a day heading to meet a dusk secret.

Hushed by heated water vapor escaping into the air.

Other birds chirp, and I do not know their names.

They gather twigs, harvest insects.

Nature is a busy industry,

defiant of encroaching societies.

Then!

A random Monarch Butterfly oscillates past me.

I’m captured in its tractor beam, by its in-flight movie.

A solitary being.

An independant film, full of beauty and lessons.

Evocative.

A meddling midwife, this butterfly.

Pulling daft dullness from my wounded womb.

Clearing the ledger of my mind.

Musing.

Stultification usurped by creative energy, passion, and fury.

Oscillating.

Rebirth, one fluttering wing at a time.

Oceans away, waves search for the moon’s gravity.

Somewhat certain of its existence, despite passing doubts.

Lunar lulling rhythm,

playing sessions of seasons.

The dark side of the moon pulls the purse strings of treasured guilt.

Also, certain of its existence.

A feeling flowing as thick as honey, but as vile as vinegar to an unsuspecting palate.

Read Poem: order order stop disorder by Dr.Y.P.Kalra

Genre: traditional values eulogized

even when the world smothers thousand shocks
we must all stand bold errect hard as rocks;
this world has falsities vanities most optimum
witness we most nasty rapacious rebellious reactions;
every way every where the gutters are open overflowing
stinking social sharks are on every street dominating:
scorpions,dragons,dungeons,draculas ransack all corners
monsters,maniacals,mephistophils,monkeys,morphine suppliers;
shuttles down honesty,morality,modesty,honesty, sincerity
shops open immorality,nudity,prolixity promiscuity,profanity:
where are temples,oh you Man they are only raping gamboling places
priests,teachers,doctors,ministers,preachers all have gods displaces.

A Footnote to Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’ By Parveen Talpur

The Desert Woman

I remember,

Within the loose circle of a veil

A face strong, striking and pale

Bearing a Sphinx-like riddle

Its expression stoic, features intriguing

Chiseled sharply by piercing winds

Tanned darkly by the blazing sun

It called for a poet to feel its solidity

A historian to read the history engraved on it

In isolation it stood, in distance it was lost

Leaving its imprint on my memory

All these years after it keeps haunting

The only feature in the vast monotony of that desert

A rare ore amidst the grains of sand

Unread, unnoticed, unnamed

Insignificant and opposite of Ozymandias’ fame