THEME POETRY
SPRING 2023 = LOOK TO THE SKY
EVEN THE STARS
Sarfraz Ahmed
https://www.linkedin.com/in/sarfrazahmedcareersadviser/
https://twitter.com/Sarfraz76194745
https://www.instagram.com/sarfrazahmedpoet/
Even the stars have turned cold
Without your love to have and to hold
Without the warmth of your embrace
A vacant smile is all that’s left
There is no look of love upon your face.
The bust of colours
The sunset and sunrise
Ignites a flame
Your poured magic
Into my veins
Hit me
Time and time again.
You left a dent in my heart
In all the right places
A wound so precise
Without you
Even the stars
Have frosted over
Inflamed cold as ice.
__________
​
THE HORIZON
Kathy Jo Bryant
United States
Look to the sky
The golden horizon
Expect a better day
The failures you've had
Are in the past
Don't stay under clouds of gray
Look to the sky
So full of bright stars
Just be a star, you may
Another might see
Your shining rays
And in your sweet glow they'll stay!
__________
​
TOO LOW, NOT TOO HIGH
Martina Robles Gallegos
California, United States
Whenever every door seems to close, look to the sky for light.
Whenever your spirits hit too low, remember to look up to the sky
for motivation. The beautiful blue will brighten your day.
Look to the sky when hope feels like it's fading away.
When your dreams seem to dim your path, look to the sky for stars
to shine brightly on them again.
Whenever faith wanes, look to the sky for the moon to brighten it anew.
Whenever sadness waxes in your heart, look to the sky for meteor showers
to bring happiness back from the heavens and into your life.
Look to the sky and let the rain pour down on your wanting body.
Look to the sky and let the sun warm your courage.
Look to the sky and grasp the moonlight.
Look to the sky and let the stars lead the way to wisdom.
Remember, nothing is too low that can't be risen, and nothing is too high
that can't be lowered.
__________
​
CLOUDS: THE ENDLESS MOVIE
Duane Anderson
Nebraska, United States
Clouds overhead,
floating by,
dressed all in white,
highlighted by a blue-sky.
They are the movie of the day
as they slowly pass by.
I keep watching,
not wanting to miss the ending
when the sky becomes too dark
and disappears into night,
waiting for a second viewing
as I replay them in my dreams.
__________
​
MAIDEN LANE DAWN
David Dephy
New York, United States
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYfKmxGEW47Qo-tgnCIGKEA
Silence tomorrow, but tonight, the sky is clear,
no wind, nothing, the stars shine, see that?
Still, the song echoes, you know a song enough
to drown the notes in silence as the seeds.
Warm breeze appears, as the answer to a prayer,
this morning. Maiden Lane drifts on the rays
in lower Manhattan. See the man in the street?
That’s me, who still believes everything is
in many ways our breath. Yet he still turns his breath
into a prayer, and dawn, that embraces him, right there,
remembers that second, when he was a kid,
standing alone in front of the man with the machine gun,
and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made
his first wish looking right into the heart
of his own future.
__________
​
NIGHT SKY
Kenny Likis
Massachusetts, United States
The problem starts with my tongue.
It wants to say what my eyes think
they see when my eyes cannot speak.
It wonders at the weight of it, the sum.
What about the poplars? Did they birth
the blues? An anaconda has it easier.
Or a white cockatoo in a gold-plated cage.
We search for omens in crossword puzzles
we solve al dente with a redbrick abacus.
The sound of the surf argues for a retrial.
The salty sea air feigns steamed cabbage.
In the night sky shine haibun monks
on three continents get drunk explicating.
__________
​
WHEN THE SEAGULLS COME FEASTING
Jonathan Ukah
United Kingdom
When the seagulls come feasting
With squawking, crowing, screaming,
I hold a full-minted loaf in my hands
My stomach shrieking, squealing;
My mother’s eyes twisted with pain
When she sees the seagulls feasting.
When the seagulls come feasting,
The sky turns a searing, blind eye,
And blind billows the western wind
That brings the band of seagulls to me;
My mother’s eyes twisted with sorrow
When she sees the seagulls feasting.
When the seagulls come feasting
My blood runs cold; my heart bleeds
And dry run my hands to my head
Where the crumbs go crumbling;
The day the seagulls come feasting
Cold is the ground and colder the sky.
I sit on the ragged cleft of a rock
Where the waves haul me into the sea,
Over the precipice of a half-chopped dam
I sit alone and look to the silent sky,
The day the seagulls come feasting
Is the day the sky abandons me.
__________
​
PEACE COMES TO THE MIDDLE EAST
I saw the tracks of angels on the earth…
-Plutarch-
Dianalee Velie
New Hampshire, United States
https://www.dianaleevelie.com/
The glowing, sandy footprints stopped midway
to the Red Sea. Disappeared into azure sky.
Bikini clad women cried.
Muscle-toned body builders stared
speechless.
Children laughed and danced.
The elderly prayed.
Frolicking above the foamy waves
cherubs sang a psalm of peace.
Seraphim rejoiced with trumpets
as the footprints crystalized into pink stone,
signaling the beginning and the end,
the start and the finish, immortalizing
a lasting peace for eternity.
__________
​
I AM THE CONSTELLATIONS
Marianne Tefft
Sint Maarten
https://www.facebook.com/MarianneTefftPoetWordsmith/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCALiRAX7idctDYEZOUhy-eQ
I am the constellations
That rise with you
When your voice calls to me
From your dreamless night
I am your summer trio
Your harp your swan your eagle
When you crave melodies
That soar on midnight wings
I am your bright dolphin
Who rides eternal waves
To soothe your mind
With her indelible smile
I am your moonlit crab
Who sheds her own solitude
To pierce the mighty shell
That once held your heart
I am the constellations
That delight your eyes
When my voice replies to you
From my sleepless night
__________
​
VAST
D.R. James
Michigan, United States
Just out of Minneapolis-St. Paul we seemed
briefly to stall as if to shadow
all those wispies drifting below.
The mazes of cul-de-sacs had given way
to assorted squares of barren fields,
their whiskered homesteads glued
to odd corners like stamps, wide ribbon
slipping backward and away, silent terrain
under a lazy canoe. Now the sun
has cast a gray ghost of our plane
down and to my right, framed it within
the awkward porthole, its sliding shade,
an unaccountable halo of rainbow—
and this ridiculous filigree of angels,
filmy leagues camouflaged in ether,
special recruits that mingle and network
like secret agents: the FBI of the sky.
But when we soon tilt and ascend
to the high status toward Denver, I know
all this silliness will vanish, angels fading,
becoming the thin air, and these fields will retreat
to compose vast sheets of stamps, re-impose
perspective, that inevitable severance
from everything that’s then re-imaginable.
—first published in Ruminate
__________
​
LONE EAGLE
Thomas Piekarski
California, United States
Cloistered in my lonely room
with undefinable smells hovering
the phantom bride and groom quit
which peppers me with gloom.
Shadows are randy, no music,
and whir of ceiling fan a bore.
I get a knock on the door,
it’s a maintenance man
come to check my smoke alarm.
His duty to comply with statutes
so this inspection is thorough, dull
enough to make an elephant snore.
News on the net a little scary,
our ecosystem in jeopardy of collapse.
I channel attention to the view outside,
construction of a new strip mall:
the builders have best intentions,
allow for simple access and egress.
I whirl in luxurious dreamscape,
a path out of my lethargy like
zipping through worm holes in space
past galaxies in the blink of an eye.
Screech of brakes and a loud crash
when cars collide and windows rattle.
Strength emerges and bold as an eagle
swooping down on unsuspecting prey
despite absence of Mont Blanc
or any such pinnacle I’d scale
I set a goal to live carefree
like a pollywog in an infinite sea.
Yet that would never pass muster
with modern quantum theory
nor alchemical wizardry.
“Hang it all” I mutter, “think
I’ll pack my bags, ditch this place
and head for Mount Olympus.”
__________
​
Pankhuri Sinha
https://www.facebook.com/pankhuri.sinha.56
A plane flying to NY
The big apple, got diverted
To london, the imperial city
Though all theories of neo-colonialism
point fingers at America! The big
M! But listen up, let's not digress
A plane flying to Japan
Flew directionless
For 7 hours, god knows why?
Flights from india
To Saudi and other places?
Diverted ! What the hell happened?
Sky traffic jam?
But that's not the only reason
To look to the sky!
As it is, everyday, we look
At the sky, casually, even
Deliberately, sky is infinite!
Limitlessness is the sky
That place to soar high!
Raise our spirits to float and fly!
But its so much more than that!
The sky is blue and pink and
Red and yellow, and we can't stop
Looking at the horizon!
Where the sun sets and rises and beyond!
In the sky is the other hemisphere
Where the night is the day!
Day is night!
Completing a circle!
Of unchangeable constant!
But we must look to the sky
And not just at it, the minute
We ever trip or fall
Or dither or pause or doubt
Or regret and yes even celebrate
Because the sky
Is the most tranquil
And unending part of our
existence!
__________
​
LOOK TO THE SKY
F. Kate Langan
Canada
https://www.facebook.com/fkatelangan
https://fkatelanganauthor.wordpress.com/
When my son was just an infant boy
and my days were filled with him
I'd take him to the park to play
just to pass the time of day.
I'd push him in the baby swing
and this little song I'd sing:
“Look to the sky where the airplanes fly.
Down to the ground where the worms are,
over and over until he could laugh no more.
__________
​
WHAT MIDNIGHT HAS TO OFFER
Skye Price
England
https://www.tiktok.com/@aspiretowrite
Peace and solitude wrapped in ink blotted stars
Rare pockets of time set aside for ourselves
Free from requests and a race to success
Midnight is reserved, unassigned, safely held
Protection and warmth gently humming from the moon
A meditative silence surrenders its spell
Closed away from the tension that daylight exudes
Stardust swirling with tomorrow’s potential
A void to fill in, a limbo - a pause
Reflect on philosophies, or dream up worlds
Focus on now, no after or before
Stare at the stars; watch your best work unfurl
Lay your trepidation to bed
Cushion the weight of your thoughts
All is accepted at midnight
Midnight is yours.
__________
​
DAWN
Cathy Hollister
Tennessee, United States
golden ring on the horizon
weds night to day
under a rose-tinged cloud trellis
blessing the union
thrush, finch, chickadee join the dawn chorus
thrive, mate, feast
on the morning breeze
as if in worship to the first star
who wishes farewell to the night
and ushers in an open heart
persistent love
growing deep, seeking diamonds hiding
undiscovered, waiting for the brilliance
bursting from the night
binding love reborn in an infant’s cry
bidding the love-lost to join
the sunrise choir of welcome
to the new day
reflected in the drops of morning dew
on each blade of grass
on asphalt streets and prison yards
on weedy lots and palace walls
green sprouts emerge through
the slough of darkness
fluid as deer running through the forest
peace and joy flood
to banish lurking shadows
the marriage of forgiveness and need
delivers the reward of mercy
in the blazing daybreak of
love of all, in all, through all, to all,
within the sight of the morning star
__________
​
SKY
Najma Naseer Bhatti
Sindh. Pakistan
Oh! Vast sky,
You are here from centuries,
Your every colour is strange,
And spectrum appears after heavy rain,
Reason of smile on every tired face,
You are shelter for homeless,
How could I define you?
I have no words like stars,
Which represent your charm
Moon is your ornament,
Sun is your necklace,
But instead of all that,
You are victim of all the crimes and injustices happened under you,
How you tolerate it?
From years, you are still stable as at beginning.
__________
​
PERMANENT EXHIBIT (FLORENCE 2019)
Kathryn Temple
https://georgetown.academia.edu/KathrynTemple
We’re tourists at the Uffizi, we don’t know much
about art so listen to the guide, it’s light versus dark,
Botticelli, Leonardo, Caravaggio, chiaroscuro
under the porticos, in the galleries, on every wall.
A madonna cradles a glowing child, all the
madonnas hold hallowed children, the mothers
sit in the dark. I am cranky, I complain,
these women served God, where is their light?
I’m with the science guy, he’s looking for Kepler.
We find the famous painting, smaller than imagined,
the floating face dissolves in the dark, chin buried in black,
he wants to know, what do they have against Kepler.
Cecilia’s shining neck, suspended alit, awaits the sword,
Judith swings a tyrant’s head, blood drips. A swan lies
slick-white against Leda’s dark thigh. Bright-bodied
Hercules fights a green-dark hydra, kill it we think.
We roam from room to room, remark the light, outstare
the dark. Painting after painting, vengeful gods, dying saints,
the medusa, one martyr too many. We’re martyred ourselves,
we’ve sacrificed, our feet hurt, we want the exit, life not art.
Life not art, we walk the grimy streets, the air reeks, Vespas
part the crowds, we scorn designer shops and they scorn us.
People push and shove, they ignore fake David, flock to Ponte Vecchio,
look but don’t buy, complain about the heat, spit in the cobblestones.
Downcast, we hike the hill to the Piazzale, another David, a
closed basilica, we watch the sky darken over the city. A mead
moon rises above the Duomo, a few stars form bright points,
Acrux, Sirius, Cygnus, meteors and moons. Star-lit, enchanted,
we drink from the fountain, eat grapes, bread, cheese,
we are changelings, art lovers now, we review:
Botticelli, Caravaggio, chiaroscuro, beneath the
porticos, in the galleries, on every wall. And here.
This is the sky Leonardo loved.
__________
​
NIGHT
Pratibha Savani
United Kingdom
https://www.instagram.com/pratibhapoetryart
https://www.facebook.com/pratibhapoetryart
Evening begins
Night's a mystery
Wonders of stars
How many do I see?
Cool air whizzes through me
From above it shines
Milky and glowy
Can’t touch, want to
Can’t reach, want to
Following me
Just an illusion
Shadows created
Reality
Evening's ending
Night's began
I wonder around
Hoping I’ve won
__________
​
THE NAMES OF STARS
Mark Hudson
Stars, stars in the sky,
show me your significance!
The whole world walks by
with an air of indifference.
If stars are so very vital,
why can’t I see them connecting?
Who got to give them titles?
Where they inspired by their reflecting?
Adam, the first man, named the beasts,
while someone else gave the stars names.
I see a star up above in the East,
a shooting star going down in a flame.
Naming stars has already been done,
the Big Dipper and Milky way known.
No stars visible when seen by the sun,
but when moonlight glows, starlight is shown.
__________
​
WALK ALONG
Shampa Saha
Walk along to some furlong
Stop and stare the sky
Dare to dream and think extreme
To the altitude, high!
Starry nights or scorching days,
The sky is always broad.
Blue and black, never be stagned
Whether the longest road.
Walk along, if no one
Is ready to be your friend
Sky will be there, smile and stare
And reach the goal at end.
Sky the teacher, teaches to be boroad
Teaches to be bright or cloudy
Always be there , where you are
Don't feel lonely, if there is nobody!
Look at the sky, keep thoughts high
Always be happy like a lark
Luna and the sun will be there, just them, stare,
And ignore the ugly dark.
____________
​
THE SPECTATORS
Carolyn Chilton Casas
United States
https://www.instagram.com/mindfulpoet_/
As the sun begins to set,
on the highest tips
of leafless twigs are perched
at least fifty starlings.
All facing west and trilling.
Why the sycamore today
and not the almost as tall
mulberry trees or oaks?
The best view, perhaps,
as close as possible to heaven.
At other times I see their small bodies
strung out side by side
on the telephone wire
in the hastening dusk.
The birds remind me of beach walkers
at this time of day
stopping to face westward.
It’s as if watching this sinking globe
is a sacrament not to be missed.
__________
​
LOOK’D UP IN PERFECT SILENCE AT THE STARS*
Neal Whitman
California, United States
there are a billion zillion
stars
more or less
named, thus far,
only eighty-eight
constellations
so many stars
opportunities galore
for new ones
it takes imagination
to connect the dots
and see a shape
with seven stars
a profile in outline
low on the horizon
•
•
• •
• •
•
BADGER
looks for no trouble
squints in the light
constellations
and poetry
best seen in the dark
* from Walt Whitman, “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer”
________
​
SCRATCH THE SKY
Karuna Mistry
United Kingdom
https://karunacreations.wordpress.com/
https://www.instagram.com/karunamistrypoetry/
Sunshine stricken
On patchwork clouds
We lie lazy on a
Soothing moment
Skyscape in view
Of panoramic heat
Sound of nothing
Passing us by…
Until
Fuselage contrails
Tear up the sky
Scratchy streaks
On ruined canvas
Butcher on high
By carvery slice
Slash us back
To city life…
__________
​
THE THUNDERSTORMS OF ARLINGTON
Gary Shulman, MS. Ed.
Virginia, United States
The thunderstorms of Arlington
Envelope me in a soothing blanket of comfort
I am not sure about the reason nor the why
But I am indeed calmed by the tumultuous metamorphosing sky
Bolts of electrons seem to energize my brain
Never forgetting they can so easily bring chaos and pain
Torrents of life-giving rain drumming on my windowpane
In any other situation would certainly drive my OCD insane
So why would a storm so severe calm my senses
Soporifically hypnotize and pacify my defenses
Into the womb I seem to gladly regress
As clouds thickly gray I do love I must confess
Perhaps for just a brief moment, for an instant in time
Mother Nature’s grand majesty becomes supremely sublime
And again, I am reminded of how tiny and small
Humanity is and I profoundly recall
We are merely tenants temporarily on earth
Only here for a moment through hardship and mirth
Not trying to instill fear only trying to share
That these monstrous storms remind us to be aware
Tomorrows never promised and we might not even be here
So, thunder do bellow your basso song
And lightening bolts feel free
To instill fear among the throng
For your anger above reminds earthlings below
To appreciate each moment and make your life-force still glow
__________
​
SEE THROUGH THE SKY
Ellen Suzanne Urowitz
Canada
Are we talking about the sky?
I think so but don't ask me why?
Simple each time I
meditate and look up at the bright blue clouds I cry.
Honest what would I gain if I lie?
As I look through the sky. .
I think free artwork.
The only time I have to look each day is
evening just before I cook.
If I don't spend five minutes looking
and helps me relax.
I wouldn't have enough energy to cook
I tried one and I broke an old antique glass.
__________
​
Michelle Lishman
South Africa
https://www.instagram.com/miki_lishman_writing/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y%3D
Our love is not written in the stars
it's conveyed by the clouds
for when it rains, it makes eternity grow
__________
​
LOOK TO THE SKY n. 1
To S.
Gabriella Garofalo
Italy
Please act cool, moon, don’t scream blue murder,
The first light of the morning is here,
And warped comms numb days, and diaries-
‘Cause you can’t see her desire in blue
Uncertain whether to lie with fire,
Or a distant laughter in the night,
As the only fire is hailing from candles
And maybe it’s your life to challenge it-
So don’t waste your time, soul,
Just leave, as first light cares for you
Only when you're gone, you and your rooms,
And never trust heaven’s greed,
This month too warm for winter,
Where the hair is setting ablaze
Limbs in a kiln and time
Anxiously awaits the firing of the clay,
As he’s setting up a personal exhibition:
The impervious black of the earth,
A sand that won’t get involved,
The water of dismay already seared-
Such bloody mess, sure, but don’t kid yourself
You can relight waste, the hoarded dross
Of seasons skies limbs,men who write,
And by a sad alchemy of the years
Even swear they are in love with unsayable shadows,
The unlikely splendour of a start,
Mad air from rejecting windows-
Warped comms again?
Maybe yes if once you hounded the moon, the sky
When they would haunt a spare soul,
But in the end they didn’t choose her,
‘Cause her silent dreams always skip out
After dispersing the undergrowth, the hired storm barriers,
The night standing still at cobalt corners,
And delirious colours shouting ‘no use for you’-
No need for unworthy souls, so they just discarded her.
__________
​
SWINGING HIGH
Petrouchka Alexieva
Swinging higher and higher,
Towards the ruby-red sunset,
I see the beams of the diving sun
Deep down into the ocean horizon.
Swinging high I see above the clouds
Eagles that fly toward the endless sky
I glide on their wings and satisfy
My desires to ride.
Swinging high towards the wind
I hear all fairy tales that it whispers in my hair
I can travel with him all the way
To the Milky Way.
__________
​
CRYPT IN THE SKY
Michael Lee Johnson
Illinois, United States
https://www.illinoispoets.org/
Order me up,
no one knows
where this crypt in the sky
like a condo on the 5th floor
suite don’t sell me out
over the years;
please don’t bury me beneath
this ground, don’t let me decay
inside my time pine casket.
Don’t let me burn to cremate
skull last to turn to ashes.
Treasure me high where no one goes,
no arms reach, stretch.
Building for the Centuries
then just let it fall.
These few precious dry bones
preserved for you, sealed in the cloud
no relocation is necessary,
no flowers need to be planted,
no dusting off that dust each year,
no sinners can reach this high.
Jesus’ heaven, Jesus’ sky.
Note: Dedicated to the passing of beloved Katie Balaskas.
__________
​
MY ODE FOR OWEN BEACH
Carl “Papa” Palmer
Washington, United States
https://www.facebook.com/carlpapa.palmer.1
Tacoma Washington rains
a foggy mist I breathe
in cadence
with soft whispers
of Puget Sound surf
heard front row center
sitting on this sand-locked log
all to myself at Owen Beach.
Seeking similes for birds
behaving like birds
as I float a morning prayer
toward the Tahlequah ferry
crossing for Vashon Island
from Point Defiance Park
sailing the horizon between
gray water and gray sky.
__________
​
THE UNSEEABLE DREAM
Ken Gosse
To dream an invisible dream,
To see an unseeable sight,
To bear with hope many find doubtful,
To code, till we prove it is right;
To confirm what past genius hath wrought,
To believe, then to prove the bizarre
To continue when efforts seem endless,
To seek the unseeable star.
That was our quest
To see a dark star,
In all of the wonder
It veils from afar
To fight to enlight
Without seeking applause
To be willing to strive for the right
theoretical cause
In our hopes that we’d find that it’s true
Knowing there is no rest
To the efforts which we must pursue
In this heavenly quest
And the world will be better for this
That our team, working both near and far,
Will strive, and continue in courage,
To see the unseeable star!
__________
​
WILL MY SOUL FLY?
Nolo Segundo
Will my soul fly
When I die…
Will my soul soar
O’er the Alps,
The Rockies, the Andes,
And the Himalayas?
Will my soul see
The Aurora Borealis
Finally?
Will my soul
Dive deep, deep
Into the oceans,
Seeing beauty
And creatures
Unknown to
To those who
Live on dry land?
Will my soul slip
Time’s iron hold,
Then to skip, at will,
Through the Ages,
Back and forth
Like an unruly child,
(the dream of sages)
Knowing the faces
Of Caesar stabbed,
Of Joan of Arc burning,
Of Lincoln laughing,
Seeing too the places
Where the lions fed
On the Christian saints,
Where soldiers died
In battles long over,
Where Hitler lied
And Jesus cried?
​
And will my soul then
speed through our vast
Universe, far faster
than the speed of light,
faster than even thought
as it takes in billions
of stars and trillions
of other worlds, and
begins, just begins
to feel how really
big God is…?
__________
​
I HAVE BEEN CALLED BY STARLINGS
Thomas A. Thrun
Wisconsin, United States
I looked skyward, and
behold a murmuration of starlings
spun upwards, like a black funnel cloud,
swirled heavenward up from the lawn, from
where they’d found swarms of aphids to consume
among the cutting blades of wiregrass …this all being
outside the window of the fast-food restaurant where I, too,
sat consuming calories of my own sausage-biscuit breakfast.
Alas, the brown/black birds rose in waves, up and up, like a
crescendo of Beethoven eighth notes on a scored page, each
keeping its own special place and space in measured
time …a symphonic apparition, as it were, one
conducted by something (or someone?)
unseen, but yet hoped for, since
the beginning of rhyme.
And, as fast as they’d ascended, the starlings then,
in decrescendo, descended once again, phrasing
their synchronized falling to land black
and back upon the lawn. And I …I
thought, as I sat there, as I chewed
and swallowed the last bite of
sustenance I could afford,
I thought softly alone to myself:
I do not deserve this, such a gift of grace!
For, the starlings, in their annual autumn migration,
stopped me suddenly with their murmurizing! Indeed, they
gave me great pause, as I …I now have been called upon
to be a witness to that something or someone, to all
that is and isn’t seen, to what is and isn’t heard.
I took my plastic juice cup home to be recycled
and glanced, as I drove out of the parking lot, for more
starlings flying up and more grace coming down.
__________
​
THE ASSASSINATION
Kenneth Stephens
California, United States
A gallows was erected on one side of a bridge,
and a law was passed whereby those crossing
from the other side must tell why they wished
to cross. If they spoke truly, they would be allowed
to pass, if they spoke falsely, they would be hanged.
When Nathuram Godse came to the bridge he
spoke truly that he was on his way to Gandhi’s
prayer meeting, and he was allowed to pass. The
Hindu fundamentalist did go to the meeting, said
his prayers, and fired at Gandhi three times at
close range.
My train was stopped at the station
of Kurukshetra, empty at midnight. I looked out
at the full moon, which hung over this battlefield
of the Bhagavad Gita. Godse was hanged here,
where the ghosts of truth and wisdom mocked
him. A vendor went by chanting garm chai, garm
chai, hot tea, hot tea.
__________
​
WINTER MOON
Julie A. Dickson
New Hampshire, United States
I have looked up to see a winter moon
between sparse remaining oak tree leaves;
a full or crescent make some lovers croon,
stars peek out from darkest sky believe
that all is calm and bright, just like the tune,
under my breath I hum as now I walk.
Path beneath my feet lit up as noon
quiet thoughts surround, no need to talk.
When chance I meet nocturnal eyes that glow,
I pause, give way since night belongs to them;
my feet are warm, though breaths cold vapor blow,
dark form moves off, resume my journey then.
With sunrise breach this night becomes the day,
moon of winter pale as fades away.
__________
​
WHEN I LOOK UP TO SKY
A dedication to my grandpa : Died on 27th Dec,2020.
Sonia Pal & Trisha Ram
United Kingdom
When I look up to clouds,
I’m reminded of cotton candies that we shared.
When I look at the birds,
I’m reminded how, above all the heights, you cared.
When the wind touches me,
I’m reminded of your soft gentle hands and their touch on my head.
When I see the colourful rainbow,
I’m reminded of our beautiful days spent together.
When I see the shiny stars above at night,
I’m reminded of our ‘twinkle twinkle little star’ singing with actions together.
When I see the full round moon,
I’m reminded of you saying ‘Ladoo’*.
When I see the sun over my head,
I’m reminded of the warmth of your love.
When the rain pours down slowly-
I cry with my silent tears, and I don’t jump now in the puddle.
When it gets dark in the evening
I know you are here to hear
That I really miss you a lot ‘Baba’**
And looking up to the sky NOW isn’t easy.
Ladoo*- A sweet round yellow ball-An Indian Sweet.
Baba**- Grandpa in Punjabi language.
__________
​
FOR ANOTHER NEW DAY, ANOTHER NEW LIGHT
Lakshman Bulusu
Stir in the silence from newfound exuberance
Of seeing the light of the day after days
Portsmouth New-Normal-based care beyond kindred
Morning routine starting with light exercises
Breakfast with coffee, tea, egg toast, and cookies
Then sauna-based massage to revitalize
A hot lunch prepared for the palette and passion
With fries, steak, and wings to satisfaction
Always helping to savor the flavor
An evening coffee and a walk led hand in hand
Dinner with salad and chicken buffet grand
Finally, a sleep zone to entreat the senses
The cared spend their days in the shine of this new home
Each wow moment, a reflection as bright as chrome
For another new day, another new light
__________
​
FOR ANOTHER NEW DAY, ANOTHER NEW LIGHT
Lakshman Bulusu
Stir in the silence from newfound exuberance
Of seeing the light of the day after days
Portsmouth New-Normal-based care beyond kindred
Morning routine starting with light exercises
Breakfast with coffee, tea, egg toast, and cookies
Then sauna-based massage to revitalize
A hot lunch prepared for the palette and passion
With fries, steak, and wings to satisfaction
Always helping to savor the flavor
An evening coffee and a walk led hand in hand
Dinner with salad and chicken buffet grand
Finally, a sleep zone to entreat the senses
The cared spend their days in the shine of this new home
Each wow moment, a reflection as bright as chrome
For another new day, another new light
_________
​
AWE AND WONDER
Emecheta Christian
Nigera
https://www.facebook.com/emechetac
Romancing the stillness of the night,
I sit and ponder,
the moon my only companion,
as I contemplate the mysteries of the world.
The wind whispers secrets,
the stars sparkle wisdom,
the trees stand tall and proud,
as if they hold the secrets of the universe within their leaves.
I am but a speck,
in this vast and wondrous world,
yet I am filled with a sense of wonder,
as I contemplate the mysteries that surround me.
The allure of gorgeous scenery mesmerized me,
I became conscious of the power of the elements,
and the spirits in the wind,
coupled with the stunning colors in the world.
In this quiet solitude,
I can tap into something deeper,
something more profound,
A sense of significance and purpose filled me,
As I explored the depths of my thoughts and feelings,
and the wonders of the world around me.
__________
​
GO!
Precious Ejim
19 Years Old
Stay inside, don't make him think twice
Make her star, the main attraction at the bar
Beg and plead a beautiful smile
Cause she’ll always be, a little girl
Cause she’ll always be, his little girl
1234, she’ll drink his venom and shell hit the floor
“Oh please, no more”
Don't want to face the reality
nevermind, they're hard to find
Not typical, one of a kind
Fallen angels, so beautiful
Why do they cry?
Beautiful, why do they cry?
1234, they'll turn off the lights
And they'll shut the door
“Please no more.”
Don't want to face the reality
She's just as capable
Just want to have a good time
Let her show you, everything
It takes two to tango
Heartbreaking
She will give you
What you're searching
1234, she drinks his venom and shell hit the floor
“Oh, baby please no more.”
Don't want to face her reality
__________
​
DAY’S FINAL HOUR
John Muro
Day’s final hour
has been windswept
and blown out by dusk,
and a sky of ebullient
blue is now in peril as
a profusion of plum
sweeps in, spreading
like gall ink and blushing
hillsides, a cluster of
small ponds and an open
expanse of pasture,
before the gloaming
dries into an immense,
slumbering darkness
that’s gradually wakened
by the audible light of
a Zildjian-gold moon.
___________
​
A TOPPLING OVER SKY VIEW; BUBBLES OF LOVE
Kanta Roy
India
You wanted four walls,
to start the sky;
bagging all that you tried to install, green growling
I shout, look to the sky:
sections jumble towards our legs
the face of Venus
forms wet areas now dried and higher than what we used as our choice:
for her naval tobacco, just smoked and did despair a figure, what we started with and what should be a hard way for living in a pendant,
laughter to hatred now floating like throaty misfortune,
soon the process becomes audacious to fingers crosses
turned off the wants to wait for a relief
searching for sky high sparrows
free to fly outside,
our lookouts’ fly around doodling circles
and the Bungee jumps proudly towards a copy of etiolated tree line:
bending tees down to ground, we gotta start waiting to hear for a call
and looking to the sky,
nullity immersed in sea forks
sending her a metanoia
your car looks different from her skyline view:
your earth just a dough of happy flour in palm
screaming pain at the good night:
sky seeming infinite love.
__________
​
BLOWING CLOUDS
In Memory of My Mother, Charlotte Hyatt 1930-2020
Shelly Blankman
Maryland, USA
As far back as I can remember, clouds seemed to take her
to another place on her darkest days. We’d sit on the porch
and watch their strands drift across the sky to the rhythm
of the wind. She seemed to breathe in another place, another
time — far from the shards of a shattered life.
Age robbed her of what was left. Alzheimer's had pecked at her
brain like vultures, silencing her pain, scattering her thoughts
Into her darkness. She’d forgotten the little joys she’d had.
Her kids. Her grandkids. Her beloved cats. Her favorite tv
shows and movies. Her brother whom she so adored.
But she never forgot about the clouds. I’d call her daily, blow
clouds through the phone, listen to her laugh as she’d blow
clouds back at me. It’s the only time she laughed anymore.
She’s been gone for years. But not a day has passed
that I‘ve not looked to the sky, heard her laugh in the breeze,
and felt her presence among the clouds.
__________
​
LOOK TO THE SKY
Koyel Mitra
https://www.facebook.com/koyel.mitra.7982
How insignificant I am
in this vast world of creation!
Look to the sky-
it is so limitless and powerful.
It weeps with me
when I am doleful
in the form of rainfall.
It smiles with me
when I am cheerful
in the form of a sunny day.
It portends a doom
when I face untoward situations
in the form of storms.
It pacifies me
when I become perturbed
after braving a storm
in the form of a clear, blue sky.
I always look to the sky-
it is my best friend ever.
__________
​
LOOK TO THE SKY
Koyel Mitra
https://www.facebook.com/koyel.mitra.7982
How insignificant I am
in this vast world of creation!
Look to the sky-
it is so limitless and powerful.
It weeps with me
when I am doleful
in the form of rainfall.
It smiles with me
when I am cheerful
in the form of a sunny day.
It portends a doom
when I face untoward situations
in the form of storms.
It pacifies me
when I become perturbed
after braving a storm
in the form of a clear, blue sky.
I always look to the sky-
it is my best friend ever.
​
__________
​
SPRING EQUINOX, PORT ORCHARD
Lesley Roger Hobbs
Pacific Northwest, United States
https://lesleyrogershobbs.com/
The dark feels endless
in the Pacific Northwest -
days short
and nights too long to avoid.
Skies grumble and grey-wash the world,
rain soaks;
I am damp for months.
Now, today, spring.
I rise before cockcrow when
hope calls me to the Puget Sound,
“Take heart” it whispers,
“day now equals night.”
I watch a northbound
flock of geese crest the horizon.
Morning haze tendrils
and wisps the unfamiliar sun
sprinkles stars
on the water,
a dawn-dazzle catches me
off guard – I am unaccustomed
to holding such joy.
Who doesn’t want light
after a long winter?