When We were Birds, by Chanchal Vyas

Once upon a time when
you and me were birds,
we measured the vast
expanse of skies from
this inch to that corner.
we have seen shifts in
seasons under the gloss
and silhouettes of our wings.
we chirped and tweeted
with other fellow ones
over the clouds
over the mountains
over the course of sea.
we inked paradise
all over our little bodies
so when we flattered
them feathers we effused
the airs with a delightful
music and played on loop
an only track we by-hearted
when we were born

Out of a thousand things
that we would be
Why were we birds only?

Because,
Birds do not cry
They are a happy thing
we deserved to be
of all thousand things.

MORSE CODE, by Carla Botha

——— • • • ———

I leave you
dits and dahs.
A brief sequence but you do not respond
like I do not respond to Mondays.
I try and decode my days for the sake of dealing
with time and dispensing of you. I am authorized
to dispense of things. I haven’t decided
the category you fall under — office hours,
overtime. The week is short.
I am working, planning to buy
a home for myself and my chickens.
The budget predicts I need to rid myself
of dots and dashes, I decipher
dreams. Everything seems like reality
except you — not included,
an untranslatable character.
#
#
#
The duration of a dash —
three times the duration
of a dot •
I memorize this distress signal —
three dashes
three dots
three dashes.
But I won’t send it.
I hear Morse code
is seldom used nowadays.

Read Poem: SONG OF THAT NEW DAWN, by Dwivedi

Please play our morning song;
One in which, our nation is healthy,
One in which, our people stand together,
Stand together, equally & love each other.

Please play that song,
which promises a bright nation,
Where no one questions our identity,
And, we are free to live our life peacefully.

Please play that song,
Where the deal is fair & square,
Where there is no place for nepotism,
And the system doesn’t function on the grounds of favoritism.

Promise that notion of a nation,
Which respects each unique soul,
And provides peace and love.

POETRY READING from Poet Kitt Fedoroff

Performed by Allison Kampf

POEM:

Sally Gossamer Wingstep heard a most curious sound,
It came from beyond the wilderness copse, over, about, and around;
When Sally flew around the last tree a wonder she could see
A greying Fablehaven hound softly baying at a prone bumblebee.
Sally risked to go closer to inspect this quite usual sight—
Instantly she flew for Johnny H. Beekeeper in a quite frenzied flight.
Can he find the resolution for a bee brought down so low?
If he lacks the right solution, where then could she ever go?
Johnny was tending keen to the so new garden green—
Petite pois on the trellis, coifed and coiled like you’ve never seen,
Tomates on the vine, carrots long and tall, blueberries arching high;
And Johnny’s prized honeycombs, so grand as to make a master bumble bee sigh,
And cousin-once-removed baby Amber Grace with the prettiest wee fairy face
Was flutter-skurrying in and out of plants and was just all over the place!
“Johnny, O Johnny”, Sally cried to her family friend with sure pride
“Come quick with me to see this poor poor bee, laid low and curled to one side.”
Finding hard-working Katje to attend their baby Amber Grace
Sally and Johnny flew straight off to the far away wooded place.
With simple mind and quiet grace, John approached the curled up bee
But twas nothing more could be done, was plain and simple to see.
“Let’s take him home” offered John to Sally’s slow honoring tears,
Nodding, Sally looked for brambles to build a sled as for one’s peers.
A far off buzz grew nearer, the Wild Hive had come to find their brother;
A rippling peace reigned as Bumble Bee and Fairy regarded one another.
John and Sally backed away bowing as the Bumble Bees took up the reins;
The bees would long remember how those aloof fairies had taken such pains.
The old Fablehaven hound bayed again as the sled disappeared around the wooded copse;
Sally and John made their long slow way back to home and the fairy-grown crops.
Sally made her thank you’s and kissed wee Amber Grace;
Quite a wonder to see how Honor and Love forever bless this place.

Genre: Fantasy

Poetry Reading: STREETS, by David Dephy

Read by Allison Kampf

POEM:

Looking at the empty streets.
Beauty needs to be seen.
I know you are happy out there
on the other side of emptiness,
yet the present is the choice
which remains. In admiration,
beauty, in poverty wealth
and in silence the sound,
I will put the gun down,
who stands beside me matters more.
I’ll remember this second,
on the other side of what was emptiness,
I’ll remember this present, but the streets
will be alive again, only that which needs
to be seen will be.

Read Poem: Children Growing Here, by Elaine Marie

Chaos thrives within these walls, no quiet moments here.

Patience is a state of mind, there are children growing here.

From that first tiny flutter, of life inside of life…

A spark of the divine slowly growing toward the light

A tiny helpless cry becomes a word, and then a song.

A smile, a hop, a skip, a jump, they don’t stay little long.

The work is hard and thankless for a strong and guiding hand.

They need a gentle kindred heart to help them understand.

A thoughtless word can break a heart, too strong a hand, the spirit.

Too gentle and the yield is spoiled and all tomorrows with it.

The apple cannot fall too far from the Apple Tree.

A careless hand can pluck the fruit while it is still too green.

Kiss the hurts, mend the bikes, hand-me-down the jeans,

Hold the moments out of time and nurture every dream.

Laughter fills these walls at times and tears they sometimes flow.

I love you, we say every day. “Brush your teeth” … “Let’s go!”

We basketball, we cheerlead, we football, and we track…

Sometimes I think we meet ourselves, going… coming back.

Yes, chaos thrives within these walls, no quiet moments here.

Patience is a state of mind for there are children growing here.

Read Poem: The Old Cottage, by Smitha

A beautiful small cottage lay in the middle of a forest and was surrounded by
streams,
Smoke coming out of the chimney, and surrounded by tall trees,
When wind blew across, it would open the windows and bang the doors creating a
loud noise,
Inside the cottage was a cosy fire place where one could sit around,
An old couch with a centre table and some old books lying around,
The cottage had some paintings and the walls had some weathering,
A beautiful vase with fresh flowers gave an aroma away,
One could also smell a cauldron of fresh soup ready cooking away,
At one corner there was a wooden rocking chair and an old lady sat there,
She was knitting a sweater and humming a tune, she got up and left the room,
Took her walking stick and went to her store room,
She used a key to unlock a box, she opened it with excitement
Out came an old diary which had her thoughts,
With a bookmark in the middle, she lays her eyes on a picture of a young man
Tears fall across her cheek for its her son that she never meets,
She closes the diary and leaves, and resumes her normal day as it is….

Read Poem: Haunt, by Tyler R. Martin

Abandon me
Please won’t you phantom?
Apparition don’t appear.
Abandon me
Please dark ether,
You fill my nights
With fear

Leave me
Sorrowful specter,
Haunt my floor
No more,
The way you smirk
and giggle
Shakes me
To my core

You’re unwanted
Wicked wraith,
Please incorporate
Elsewhere,
Cease the seizure
Of my family,
For that I can not
Bare

Read Poem: EVERYTHING…., by Andrew McG

Andrew McG
Twitter: @SpeakEasyMcG

…..That is what I miss about you

Just a lifetime too few
Just a smile left in the past
This is for our very last
“I Love You”
This is for our future tomorrow
This is for the utterly too few
“I’m Sorry’s”
May Mother Mary
hold you in her arms and whisper
her words of wisdom
Because you whispered them to me
When you held me in your arms
“Where there is a Will, there is a Way”
For every jab and every hook.
For every Polaroid we ever shook.
For every passed away yesterday
For every present that you were here
This is for the life we have loved
This is for the death we have shared