Sweet and Fragrant Nirvana, Poetry by Nalini Priyadarshni

You call me jaggery lips
though you have never sucked on
golden blob of sweetness
and have no idea about its taste
only a vague memory of
something you had sampled in Mexico
made of sugarcane juice
Sweet and fragrant!

Category – Romantic 
 
Sweet and Fragrant Nirvana
by Nalini Priyadarshni 
You call me jaggery lips
though you have never sucked on
golden blob of sweetness
and have no idea about its taste
only a vague memory of
something you had sampled in Mexico
made of sugarcane juice
Sweet and fragrant!
Maybe you have forgotten gulkand
in your post dinner paan with silver foil
after a long day of sightseeing
in the heat and dust of Benaras
that started at Ghats and culminated
at the silk shop where sitting midst
thousands of pieces of fine silk
you picked golden Ganesha on black
my favorite god whose figurines I collect
A coincidence you would say
 of course, like countless others.
Sipping ice cold water under the droning fan
browsing through vibrant silk pieces
each more beautiful than the previous
with no intention to buy any, after the
oppressive heat of the day you had spent wandering
the streets of the ancient city with your juvenile guide
you picked my favorite god to take back home
India you did not pack in your backpack
 lodged itself beneath your nails
flowered as a trident on your palm
to unfold in the folds of your skin
in the twilight of ‘beaver state’
Thronging with love, gurgling chaos
it nestles in the crevices of your soles
You now return to me in myriad pieces
I stow away at the back of my lingerie drawer
run my finger along their edges listening to Beatles
try to put them together in sultry afternoons
let lusty mangoes seduce me into thinking
we can find a way to turn the clock around
and find nirvana in slurping their nectar
Author info- Nalini Priyadarshni is a poet, writer, editor and amateur photographer. Her work has appeared at various international magazines and lit journals including Up the Staircase Weekly, eFiction India, Mad Swirl, Crescent Magazine, The Riveter Review, Writes & Lovers Café, The Gambler, Camel Saloon, Earl of Plaid, CUIB-NEST-NIDO, and The Open Road Review, Phoenix Photo and Fiction, Undertow Tanka besides numerous anthologies including Resonance, I Am Woman, Awakening of She, Art of Being Human etc. She lives in Ludhiana, India with her husband and two feisty kids. Her first solo poetry collection Doppelgänger In My House is expected in 2016.

 

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RAGING BATTLES, Poetry by Saloni Verma

A young girl walks bare feet,
Amongst the gunpowder and debris,
She looks at the bloody bodies, now covered,
She mourns deeply for her beloved.

Genre: Rhyme, Romance, Love

RAGING BATTLES
by Saloni Verma

A young girl walks bare feet,
Amongst the gunpowder and debris,
She looks at the bloody bodies, now covered,
She mourns deeply for her beloved.

The world was such an empty place before,
Then came her prince-on-the-white-horse to the fore,
They shared a bond that could last forevermore
The world wasn’t so empty anymore.

He was a soldier of the state,
Serving the country was his fate,
He loved his girl and his nation,
He was his country’s true citizen.

They walked the lush gardens hand-in-hand,
They scoured for shells in the golden sand,
They ran gleefully in the rain,
They were not aware of the upcoming pain.

One day, he got called for his duty,
He was called to serve at the front;
They were taught to show no pity,
The enemy had to face the brunt.

The girl was left alone to ponder,
The state of her lover she often wondered;
She passed her days lying in wait,
She couldn’t leave everything in the hands of fate.

She heard the radio day and night,
Heard the horrific results of the fight;
They often recounted the names of the dead,
With worry did her forehead always sweat.

He called one day, “How are you, my love?”
“Lying in your wait”, she only sobbed.
He told her of his friends’ death,
She only said that she was sitting with awaited breath.

He recounted the booms of the guns, the missiles, the bodies,
He told her how they had to live as a quarry;
He said he was proud to fight,
He said he was content he was right.
Though the barrels made him shiver,
He had always the strength-filled quiver.

She longed to see him day & night,
She heard from them one twilight,
He had been martyred by the enemy’s cannon,
“He was our bravest soldier”, said the Captain.

Her heart burst with paramount grief,
Battles raged in her heart as on the streets;
“How ironical”, she thought grimly of her loss,
That it should come at a time after their country had won.

She walked then between the gunpowder and debris,
She now only felt the thorns of the roses, on her feet;
Come and see the blood in the streets, her heart cried
Come and see the blood in the streets!
Come and see the
blood in the streets!!

    * * * * *

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so here is mine, Poetry by Ghada 20

You are the love

you are the fate

you are the soul and

its mate

Genre: Romance, Love, Relationship

so here is mine
by Ghada 20

You are the love

you are the fate

you are the soul and

its mate

you are a dream

and debate

you are the morning song

and relief

you are me… my very

special case.

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Second chance Love over 60 years old, Poetry by Jonell Kirby Cash

A Ring, A Dance, A Second Chance

Jonell Kirby Cash
A Ring,
A Dance,
A Second Chance;

GENRE: Romance

Second chance Love over 60 years old
by Jonell Kirby Cash

A Ring, A Dance, A Second Chance

Jonell Kirby Cash
A Ring,
A Dance,
A Second Chance;

My darling’s gone,
Now I’m alone

And then
The Phone…
A love I’d known

Reminded me
That now I’m free

To Live
To Dance
Another Chance….

And Love Again

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Soulmate, Poetry by Frank Carl John Wellenstein

Deep in my heart
Is where u exist
Stood thru time passed the test
Since that first date
Soulmate

Genre: Love, Relationship, Romance

Soulmate
by Frank Carl John Wellenstein

Deep in my heart
Is where u exist
Stood thru time passed the test
Since that first date
Soulmate

True love, true trust
A perfectness
Our souls together as one
Till kingdom come
A feeling of forever
Always with u my love
My destiny, My fate
Soulmate

We grow together everyday, every way
My best friend, till the end
All my life
Sharing smiles
Clearing tears
Our love wont wait
Soulmate

Our bodies grow old now
Our hearts still strong
A love forever long
Earth and heavens gate
Soulmate

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Solutions, Poetry by Julius Wells

Fuck love
Because that other shit is permanent
She said she would hate me forever
And man I’m learning quick
That she really meant it
This feeling is so senseless
This feeling cannot last
This feeling shit is trash

Genre: Sad, Romance, Relationship

Solutions
by Julius Wells

Fuck love
Because that other shit is permanent
She said she would hate me forever
And man I’m learning quick
That she really meant it
This feeling is so senseless
This feeling cannot last
This feeling shit is trash
To be feeling shit like this makes me want to be feel my wrist with glass
And slice
But instead I just…
I fill my life with brashness
I feel and hope that it’ll cover up the sadness
And the madness but it fucking doesn’t, it’s endless
And I can’t make sense of why love left me defenseless
From this cold cold world that life gives, and now in listless
I’m feeling like if life providing answers, I really must’ve missed it
You came into my life and made me feel complete
But I never learned happiness on my own, this shit is weak
And I’m somehow even weaker
Because I’m dependent on this thing and I’m searching for it like a creeper
Stalker. Hiding in the bushes looking for you
Hoping I can be whole again, hoping I can renewed
But instead I’m strangely feeling so empty
Love left me with potholes on the road through life and so I’m tripping
What do I fill it with?
How do I cement my path?
I can’t replace this shit with something I do not have
Since love left me, angst has been my tool
But the hole that love left is the size of a fucking pool
So I strive for hate and despair, until I’m fat and full
And I Ignore and avoid the strength of loves pull

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Your Eyes, Poetry by Agata Pujsza

I like your eyes
looking at my eyes
mutual connection
of secrets from far
inexplicable
real
full of love..

Genre: Love, Relationship, Romance

Your Eyes
by Agata Pujsza

I like your eyes
looking at my eyes
mutual connection
of secrets from far
inexplicable
real
full of love..

I like your eyes
touching my eyes
this warm hug
deep
and gentle
full of sighs
as when we met first time..

I like your eyes
talking to my eyes
this warm voice of reassurance
that makes me feel
we are
from galaxy
of our own universe..

I like your eyes
dancing with my eyes
in these moments of silence
when we sit
by the table
unfettered
sharing voiceless stories from earlier..

I like your eyes..

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Rapscallion, Poetry by Shelby Schimcek

You’re the rapscallion of devious games
Paralyzing my body
Controlling my mind
Manipulating my trust
With your alluring string of lies
Your carnivorous appetite

Genre: Romance, Love, Relationships, Hurt, Life and Dark.

Rapscallion
by Shelby Schimcek

You’re the rapscallion of devious games
Paralyzing my body
Controlling my mind
Manipulating my trust
With your alluring string of lies
Your carnivorous appetite
Devours my thoughts
Lurking behind a devilish smile
Attacking at my weakest
Limp and lifeless
You leave me dangling
At your finger tips
Waiting to strike a match
That fuels the flame between us
With a breath
You darken the glow
Showering me with venomous kisses
My still beating poisoned heart
Crashes into darkened depths
Of lost hope
Kindling me with false love
An ounce of warmth
enlightens my rebirthing heart
Prone to your touch
I’m only fooled once more

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Lines, Poetry by Matt Griesinger

Lines keep us in order.
If we can keep ourselves between the yellow and the white,
pass when it’s dotted and stay patient when it’s solid,
we will arrive at the solemn promise
of shelter from disorder.

Genre: Romance and Relationship

Lines
by Matt Griesinger

Lines keep us in order.
If we can keep ourselves between the yellow and the white,
pass when it’s dotted and stay patient when it’s solid,
we will arrive at the solemn promise
of shelter from disorder.
But that shelter is mythical.
Magical, sure. Practical, maybe. But all the while, hypocritical.
See, the shelter doesn’t exist.
The mythical, seemingly magical, possibly practical, definitely hypocritical shelter
is what new fathers, holding a bundle of six pounds, yearn for,
what cracked out junkies burn for,
what ivory tower academics press you to learn for,
and what once drunken sluts now bored housewives turned for.
The myth of safety in numbers, safety in lines
is pervasive and attractive.
It is invasive and reactive
In nature.
And I don’t mean nature in the form of the waves on the beach.
The waves that destroyed the dunes
and the wooden stairs leading to my house.
The stairs, dampened from perpetual high tides that never returned to low,
that led to a balcony.
In five years, the waves will destroy the stairs.
In ten years, the waves will destroy the balcony.
In twenty years, the waves will still carry the Memory.
The Memory lives on the incalculable shape on each individual wave.
The waves carry no lines, no safety, and no shelter.
They carry the memory of my beautiful blonde running down the stairs.
My beautiful blonde smiling up at me on the balcony.
My beautiful blonde bathed in innocence and swimming with grace.
She is the Memory.
As She walks on the sands,
the commands and demands
of a life in worship
strike repeatedly with the waves.
So when She changes hands, I feel the weight of the laying of the hands
as I realize that while I leave footprints in the sands of time,
She leaves footprints across my soul.
As I leave footprints for forlorn and shipwrecked brethren,
She becomes a veteran of my soul
as She lifts the oppression
and shows me pieces of heaven.
She lives without lines and provides
none for me.
Instead, She divides what I knew and collides two views
as She decides on a life outside the lines.
We will reside in the world of the Memory.
My beautiful blonde shining in the ocean.
Me, Her hero in the strife, at work building a life,
watching over Her and Her innocence,
Her poise and Her grace.
There are no lines. There is no order.
Only the living Memory.

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