Read Poetry: COVID 19: The End or the Beginning?, by Anjana Dutta

LIFE before was a race!
The worldly goods and possessions, we would chase!
But these unpredictable days taught us to not run in a race but to live in the ‘phase’.

The use of internet to this extent could never have been thought!
Meetings from offices, meaningful lessons from institutions, to home it brought.
Corona, a devastation everywhere to be seen OR a virus that has come to clean?
Too many countries are on lockdown,
And see the change- our mother nature is now clean and wearing a crown!

And paradise changing to graveyards?
People are struggling, no food to feed the masses?
Humans are caged and places are shut down,
But animals are moving freely in the town.

I’m thankful to the people who take risk for us,
Let’s pray for these people who are doctors, saviours and the real warriors.
In light of the troubles we have today,
There are a few things I would like to say;

Social distancing must be embraced
For the virus to get completely erased.
Let’s love things a little more,
Let’s value our nature to the core;

Appreciate the skills we have found in us.
Let’s stay strong and not make a fuss.
This deadly virus is not less than a battleground for us,
Let’s fight, overcome obstacles and achieve success!

Read Poetry: Live Again, Anika Anderson

Alive but not living
Surviving but not thriving
Wearing masks, hiding identities
Controlled but not in control
Conforming to roles, titles and positions
Giving all but feeling empty
The meaning of me lost
A life summed
On that precipice of life, I awakened to a revelation
That the the key to me was found in my Creator
The Creator and His creation a relationship never fully explored
So I began seeking to know and understand
About my purpose and design in His master plan
What I discovered was peace, love , joy, trust and intimacy with Him
Most of all I discovered how to live again

Anika Anderson ©

Read Poem: The Past Ain’t Obsolete, by Isiah Lea

Master your metric
Live by your code

Some hearts just twisted
Most stuck stone cold

Petrified then replicated
Stoic and configurated

Equity no justice
Colour ain’t liberated

Black a shade
Confusion parade

Kinda like how
we treated each day

Cant see all thoughts
That ripple this way

Stipple your tat
Your symbol must
light way

You’re fine you’re okay
Resilient hurray

Every person seeing suffering
Desentised one way

Glad my wifi shit
Keep it buffering, dont play

First world; Sounds naive
Proud nationalistic history
Built upon slaves

From continent to continent
Or mostly stolen from one

So many homelands
Different brands or scars

Intersectionality infinite
Shattered snowflakes so scorned

Generationally even
Before you were born

Recycled spirit
Volitale, worn

Born from water
Warm to cold

Too many grow frozen
Before their life truly torn

Read Poetry: ONE, by Destiny Premo

From the beginning into now,
We felt something more,
When a feeling turns to passion,
Nothing is like it was before.

A unity blessed by the universe,
As now the stars aline.
From that day forward, side by side,
Your hand intertwined with mine.

We are but only one breath,
Our hearts beat as one.
Facing the darkness together,
Brighter than the sun.

So walk with me, my love,
There’s no need to fuss,
Life is the journey we share,
The world belongs to us.

Love will see us through,
Love will always defend.
When it comes to our love,
There will be no end.

Our spirits conformed to one,
we have been set free.
The world we leave behind,
Cannot match our eternity.

Read Poetry: Passing, by Paul O’Donnell

So much is broken
I despair
he says passing out from lack of air
It was no more than a passing dream to think
the passing of a law could mean passing through the past
The inciting incident, the protagonist’s resolve to repair
ignorance fear and anger living side by side in liminal space stretched.
Searching for the prophylactic fountain to wash away despair
Farfetched
But passing laws passed through the fragile membrane made of the
dreams of gilded fossils giving
no more than a passing glance
with few words passing between them.
How could it not be broken?
Only the words Black Lives Matter, matter
No forgiveness can be asked. Forgiving is an act of power bestowed
granted by the weak with feelings of remorse
Atone is at and one
there the difference lies.
© pod

Read Poem: The Road Not Taken, by Stuti Saxena Singh

Poem inspired by true event of my life..

#Best#Road#Not#Opted…

Once upon a time,
there stand by,
excruciating rhyme.
My body,soul and mind,
were in grief stage,
Oh!!divine…
Out of all available,
scenarios and situations,
What to elect? and Why?
created a whole lot perplextion.
Past summers were the days,
Mid of March, April and May(s).
Mind got stucked,
Hands got cuffed,
Legs got freezed,
Gravity of emotions for ,
severly ill”Mother”,
Over …
Duty of 6month,
old kid “Mother”,
got seized.
Poignant were those days,
Pendulum like oscillations,
for doctors opinions ,
were our ways.
Trail taken gave satisfaction,
reflected with optimistic dispersion.
Leaning on my word,
Mom admitted in native hospital.
My dialogue with doctors,
were utterly digital .
As days crawled by,
Mom’s health began to scatter,
Flicker of faith began to falter.
Nephrologist said kidneys,
will gradually recover.
Cardiologist said,her heart,
needs artificial pacemaker.
Off all the unfortunate
Cardiac events,
alternate dyalsis,and
life support supplements,
Got shifted twice out of ventilator,
She survived as a real warrior.
Interimly a sign of relief.
Thought “The Road Taken”,
was full of boomy leaf.
But negligence of medic staff,
flex the situation intense grief.
“Aspiration”,”overlooked”,
was main cause in brief .
Recklessness was at ledge,
As… if…
Inhumanity was at pledge.
Simultaneous Pacemaker Insertion,
aided lately by bronchoscopic examination was conducted.
Seems like hopeful recovery of maa was completely abducted.
Elevated bacterial infection in blood
due to aspiration was dotted.
“Oh!!!! What do I say dear custodians”,
Pacemaker implanted is also not working.
“Gone in comma” was the last quoted.
“Oh well!! Still we can refer her to
higher center of your choice!!”
was forcibly suggested …
Why ????Oh!!!Good Lord,
Well experienced cardiologists
were not consulted..
Oh in painful grief, I shouted,
Why???? treatment in native
place was selected.
Why?? Oh Lord !!!
The road selected turned
so devastated.
Loosing you Oh Maa!!
Was this fate,,,
really destinated??
or
Was this the outlay of,
“so called divine ”
heedless inhumane,
dexterity trusted ??
Embraced with grievous infelicity,
I shriked…
Lost my strength forever,
As of erroneous path Opted….

Read Poem: Moonlight in Great Neck, by Sarah Rundqvist

I can’t stop

thinking about the moonlight

the night you kissed me

outside of that random bar

in Great Neck

you turned my whole world upside down

right way up

forbidden love has a way of tasting

sweeter than it should

I glanced up

at the clock

at the train station

knowing their arms

were already moving me

further away from you

until you were just gone

and you became

a distant memory

I sometimes recall

in the moonlight

I bought my first watch

a Bulova

like the one at that train station

where we became lovers

in love

every time with a kiss

picking me up

sending me off

and their arms are still taking me somewhere

my heart will send you a postcard once I get there

I hope we are both smiling

when we arrive

The Seaside, by Antony Schelts

“The yawning mighty ocean tired from its task,
Inhaling yoghurt pots and indisposable memories,
Exhaling it’s sodium polystyrene. Cafés dishing up plastic fish on plates of mercury.

Souvenirs of bygone happiness, soaked in flavoured ice. Arcades of candied rock and buzzing machines.
It spits and piers echoed by screaming children.

Pavements gritted with shoes filled with sand,
Streets pounded by the nuclear families holding secrets. Melting castles under the beating sun. Coated by the tide of oil.”

Thinking up castles, by Roxanne Arvizu

I can clean my room!
There is so much to do!
Like put away my skates
I better tie my shoes!

Sometimes on rainy days
I hide under covers
Pretending that its bed time
Praying no one discovers!

Me under and over, on top
in a ball
Just dreaming away
and feeling so tall

In a magical land
with fairies and friends
playings games with such fun
I hope it never ends!

I see that you’re cleaning
and I can help too!
almost finished with a tea party
with kittens that mew!

I am big now
My room I can clean!
Just a little longer here..
I do love to dream?

Thinking up castles
and kites on a string
ladybugs dancing
fairies with wings

apples and cherries
on trees galore
butterflies, flowers
ponies and more

A cottage so perfect
that everything rings
the staircase has windows
to gardens that sing

So happy with glee
in such pure delight
the fireflies dance
a ballet every night

knowing, believing
Everything is my friend
from the moon to the stars
to the great river bend

I want to clean my room
I promise I do
But there is a farm and a barn
and ranch maybe two?

Where the cows
love to tell a story they do!
to me, and the monkeys,
and four kangaroos

There is a garden of flowers
filled with books that I’ve read
What fun! All of these places
that dance in my head

in this garden
with flowers
plus more
I dream up more dreams
where i’m doing my my chores!

I look up at the sky
and dream dreams
all day
of what I will become?
the instruments I’ll play

On top of mountain,
Then a boat that I row
My thoughts are so BIG
like a giant rainbow!

Then out from the covers
Rarrr! I am brave!
like a lion well rested
I emerge from my cave!

I’m ready to help Mommy!
what can I do?
Mommy understands
because she loves me SO much
and I love her too.

DOLL, by Kirsten Warner

I forage for her, the doll of my disappointment

a spray of brittle twigs
a faggot of fallen fronds
crusty sticks with lesions of lichen

crouched over, calling up my ancient sister.

Then it is only a matter of seeing and she takes shape.

A forked branch and spindly legs start running,
over-wide arm-span
shock of invisible fingers
guts hanging out
circulation unspooled
half a skirt of flax flowers,
all bundled together
leaving a strong stick where her head will go.

Overnight she stands sentinel,
my doll of disappointment,
through my sleepless 4 AM and discarded novels.
My insides agitate like giant kelp in a blowhole.
Somewhere a strange crying
but each time I get up the whimpering stops.

In the morning the pillow is wet.
I’m flimsy yet my ache weighs heavy on the bathroom scales.
I count my losses in the vanity’s distorting mirror.
It feels like something died. Like I never had a chance.

I craft her head from crumpled cellophane
and glinting, spooky transparency,
attach a savage halo
consider lengths of yarn the violent red of secobarbital
but she’s done. I nurse the day

while she fossicks in the underneaths
grubbing out contagion,
cursing humbug and sideshow
drowning out the comfort of friends
muttering spells to turn my gaze away
daubing herself with horse manure
full of grass seed that will eventually sprout green.