Waiting Under the Depth of Despair by Kentu Lekpa

I’m staring out into the night,

Trying to hide my tears;

Every drop of my tears echoed;

Beside the wall i inclined;

It’s hard to hide my tears falling;

And the pain i felt right now;

There is no mercy from thou;

Broken all apart and had left me,

The miles are getting longer;

It seems you’re no longer there 

I’m waiting for your call… 

Despite,  i hadn’t hear your voice.

I stand beside your teary eyes

Like how much you wanted me more.

Kiss me through the phone,

I always think of you every time. ..

All the time you’re on my mind

We play together you and I … 

Never knew our heart would  break. 

Sometimes out the window,

I noticed that you’ve been waiting alone

And i wonder why you can’t come up, 

every night in my dreams


I see you i feel you, 

but you weren’t there… 

that is how i know,  i am always alone weeping through window of my broken heart.





Re-killing  by Aminool Islam                

I’ve already died

                   Of your love

        Kill me not,O’ my beloved!

       Kill not the deceased again


                I’ve already burnt

             With your severance

        Set me not on fire,Dearest!

         Burn not the ashes again. 




(Not) My Poem by Alicja Kuberska

I wrote a few words and secured them permanently.
Reflections and emotions created the stanzas.

I uttered the final sentence,

and my poem moved like a zephyr,

Kissing my lips lightly as he left, gliding away to strangers.

He slipped into eyes, where tears are born.

He whispered tender words to hearts

and they faintly shivered.
He pricked dormant consciences,

made stale by daily routine. 
He consoled a sad lady, Melancholy.
At night he soared skywards

parting heavy curtains of clouds.
The stars glistened over illuminated moonlit paths for lovers
The tender song of a lone  nightingale

echoed around the dark abyss
and sank softly into swooning scents of flowers.

Sometimes my faithless lover returns
– beloved son of the muse, but child of mine no more




The Crystalline Side of Time by Fahredin Shehu

There’s sunlight and your words like thunder split my being

there’s a flashlight in my Soul

perhaps you waited hardly – out of empty stomach to see a smile in his face

there are no tears in a full stomach you shall know this too

and I see the smile of the ignorant as the most ignorant

one can be – I’m the one – who stands as rock and I watch with binoculars

down the lake and the swan couple I see in the pond playing the erotic game

perhaps you recall how we met in a Crystalline side of Time

and you hold now the empty shell echoing my name

the war ended roughly two decades ago and we still Love

as mad as no one can be, in here where the age of smirks rolls its dice and

in a place of serenity we call heart




Trauma by Pitambar Naik

Nauseated fate on the streets

Fragments of pang and pain scatter in your bosom

Brownish fields, stony breathlessness

No more she, he, her or him, morning to evening

The lovely sky up even gasp for a little solace!


Coal mines, black gold, an illusion

Exceeds and disproportionate trauma

Stinky smell of callousness

Hoary deposits of the sweat and blood

An algorithm of fossilized humiliation

That might be Birbhum, Kalahandi or Mednapur.


The future is bleak and the hutments

Gaze like the Bengal of 1966

Coal, bauxite buries millions of lesser gods

The byword, the replica of the biblical no people

How can that fetid shame be brushed away?


Gray ashes of gloomy centuries

Noah’s floods

That far off Ethiopia

Somewhere in our backyard.



Thinking on Ferlinghetti’s #34  by Janette Schafer

Singers are poets too

    at least, I look at it that way,

         and like the wordsmith


(and the surfers)


they are seeking the eternal rhythm

     the lilt of the syllables connected together

          caressing the tide of music floating beneath


they too, seek to interpret

     the world through sound and language

          the echo of resonance and vernacular


the voice for them is the rolling wave of sea

     the buoyancy of timbre and harmonics

          bobbing on the surface tension of a melody





Sonnet 9 by Zulfiqar Parvez

With a smile as wide as the beaming sun

The angelic souls were having fun

In ways no words can give vent to

But can only be felt as the hearts do

On their feet they were out of joy

Dancing as if not the least coy

Singing songs though not in voice

Leading them to frenzy and a maze.

Not every day do they get to see this

Teachers dancing with them not to miss

Full they were of life for a day

Regardless of what haters may say

It will be a day worth being remembered

When they part with a dream deferred.


After Man by Ann Christine Tabaka

Nothing more exists, but the wind in the trees,

translated into whispers by vanishing time.

All that was is no more.


Spread thin with busyness and strife

there is nothing left to give to tomorrow.

The night swallowed up all. 


Red carpets and black limousines,

things of the past.

Books open with no one to read.


Nature has taken over with no

thought of loss. 

The best will survive as it always has been.


Decaying structures,

a salute to the past.

The earth continues to spin.



Spraying Adverbs by Debashish Haar

It’s that time of the day when men perspire
adjectives and talk about their pay-packets,
and women discuss the incentives, spray
adverbs, and stroke their cell-phone babies.
The dogs in the streets lick
used up tissues and napkins, and swallow
the scent of whatever they can’t chew.
Friends exchange sweets and mementoes,
lovers worship lack of separation.
The day ponders its immensity
to take the flight of birds.
Insomniacs are stoned to sleep,
and children read junked literature.