preyed upon
judged
sentenced

folks without guns
babes in arms
male and female

made sport of
dehumanised
considered inferior

when my love pours beyond
the rim of the glass,
i won’t cry over spilt milk.

what is longing if not a drop,
pressed at once with cloth in vain.

let it run down the table’s edge,
a river of devotion.

and if it stains the wood, so be it
for what is love
if it leaves no mark?

let it rest in the grain,
a memory not meant to vanish
but to remind me, i once overflowed.


n.h.

frenetic seagulls
- displace the sky

mob of mayhem
- back home from fishing the sea

songs claiming 'victory'
songs overwhelming the peace.

Kingfish
leads
Other
Fishes
But
Human
Kingfisher
Leads
To
Klutzy
­                - Amisha priya

Looking
Into
Your
Eyes
Feels
Like
Lest
Talking
With
You
Feels
Lik­e
Tender-hearted
Walking
With
You
Feels
Like
wedding
Eating
With
­You
Feels
Like
Elite
        -  Amisha priya

Shadows are a reminder

that beyond the light

darkness exists.

A strange pattern for
writing has come
to me lately.
The skeletons of
poems form when I
lie down for a nap.
Sleep always calls,
and bones want to
dance and grow skin.
Lilacs bloom, and I feel
the inner thigh of
eternity, soft and wet.

I can't get any rest.
I have to jot down the
notes or they turn
to ashes and blow away,
or, they are buried deep in
mud and slumber,
impossible to dig up.

I sleep with a notebook and
pen, as I drift off,
I whisper to the tortured
bones,
don't cry and try not to worry.
I'll bring you to life.