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 Apr 2017 Purab
Shivani Lalan
There's something about
opening a bottle of colour -
knowing
that any way it spills
won't spell A-R-T at your hands.
let's call it the audacity of trying,
and
move on.

Same thing for a lump of clay -
lying in front of you,
waiting for creative violence,
but you know that your thoughts
don't have fingers,
your ideas don't have arms.
let's call it the pointlessness of wishing
and
move on.

Don't look at the camera -
the eager buttons waiting,
glinting in the hope of your touch
a lens waiting to be turned -
knowing that your eye can never
translate your sight into art,
your vision will never equal
an image.
let's call it the imperfection of waiting,
and
move on.

My last hope is a pen.
my fingers rush over it,
finding solace in known grooves
where my fingers have settled
time and again.
i call it the comfort of a story.

and this time,
*i stay
I rlly like writing stuff.
 Apr 2017 Purab
mygreatestescape
No one
laughs at God,

not at war,
not in hospitals,
No one
laughs at
God
when
they've
got nothing
left to keep,
No one laughs
at God
even when
death comes
to reap,

But everyone laughs
at God,
at bars
and in clubs,
and in living
rooms of
Christians,
when jokes
and wine
are spilled
together,

And at
get togethers
and
dinner parties
and in movies,
where everyone
laughs
together,

No one laughs at
Jews,
not in their faces,
because then
they're racist,
Not during history
month,
Not
when reading
evidence
and proof,

But everyone
laughs
at Jews,
when the economy
collapses,
when someone
wears
a ******
themed Halloween
costume,
when
breaking an
awkward silence,
when blaming
others,
everyone laughs
with their
mouths open,

No one laughs
at war,
not when children
are
falling down
like flies,
Not when
others
dare not bat
an eye,
Not when
blood
feeds
nature
more than rain,

But everyone laughs at
war,
when
the teachers not
looking,
when little
Muslim
kids are being
murdered,
When
looking for
someone else
to blame,
around dinner
tables
and brunches,
together
they laugh
at
unfathomable pain,

No one laughs
at egalitarianism,
not when
your
friend's
daughter
was *****
in her dorm
room,
not when
girls
are killed for their
gender,
not when
education
is a restricted
property
with a
no-girl
policy,

But they
laugh,
when
making ****
jokes,
because its
just for fun,
isn't it?
when
boys
will be
boys
is an excuse
for each
practice
and outcome,
when
expletive
words are
all they have
in their dictionary
to describe
her
and her
mother,

It's all so funny,
two faced
in our ignorance,
laughing
at each other's
expense,
monstrous and
cruel,
killing humanity
with our
hands.
Doesn't anyone ever get tired of hating each other?
 Apr 2017 Purab
Twinkle
She lost her heart inside his soul..in the words his mind composed...inside the myriad memories of this emerald eyes...that shone with a light she had never know...a longing she thought was hers alone...

She loved him more than life itself..
But feared that even the shadow of her
scared, wounded heart would cast
an evil that could not be dispelled.

The proof of her love was in her eyes..she loved him each moment...knowing well that even the sight of him killed her a thousand times over...
She wanted the best for him...even if it meant being without her.

His future, his dreams meant more to her than that ache deep down to see him behold her with a longing she saw in his eyes alone....none ever looked at her like that...ever
Lust was all she got....disgust if at all.

He made her feel beautiful, feel complete..seem ageless...almost magically as if his love alone could transform her demons into ashes....
He was all she ever wanted..hoped for..he was the answer to her aching heart!

She loved him like she would die every day just to be held in his transcendental embrace...

But then she ran away...frightened at the plethora of emotions that coursed through her hopeless body..afraid of her own shadow...afraid of what it meant...a reality she couldn't dream of..cudnt imagine..
worlds colliding.. hopes shattering...
she dare not love again...she dare not love again..she promised herself.."Not this time...not again"
 Apr 2017 Purab
K Balachandran
Virginal white dress,
Her colorblind obsession
Breeds jealous colors.
 Apr 2017 Purab
Sally A Bayan
High up there, I glance at you
You hide again, sometimes peeping,
While I put aside
My worries for this day.
Waves and curves seem to shroud you
This early April  evening
Though you are perfectly rounded.
We watch each other,
You eye me down,
I look above, to you...
We speak in our silence,
With me, listening,
Offering all the warmth i could share with you,
For, your Ivory white light, is cold and distant
Unlike your warm yellow crescent
.........of some nights ago....

This evening, you awake in me
Dormant, unsettling thoughts,
I am confused, yet,
You show me a panoramic view of faces
They dwell in my mind as I gaze at you
But there is this brilliant one
That smiles beneath your moon glow
It stares me in the eye,
Speaks to me, without words...

My breathing evens out,
It becomes a melody
Because the time has arrived...
These few moments,
When restlessness drifts away
As you shine down on me
When impatience departs from me,
And I am calmed suddenly
And I don't know what else to think of...
For, this evening,
You, and this brilliant face have once again
........comforted me....
I am warmed, I am glad.
I am now smiling, looking up, at you,
My April moon, I bid you goodnight,
I am beaming, as silently...I thank you....


(A repost of an older poem...edited)


Sally

Copyright April 11, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***not much to share, just a brief evening break, a short,
-wordless conversation, between the moon and me...***
 Apr 2017 Purab
r
Black
 Apr 2017 Purab
r
Tonight watching the waves
break over Dead Woman's
Shoals quite a ways away
through the windows
of the Riverview
where I once thought the bar
was the bottom of a boat
scarred deep from the drink
on the rocks and sand bars
until I realized it was a coffin
shellacked black
as the hazards of marriage
between a waterman
and a lonely woman
black as the soft leather
of the stool climbed
and kicked away
black as the water
the night
you found her there
still swinging
from the rope
of the nets
she repaired
for her man
while he was away
chasing the catch
deep in the darkness
of the black waves.
 Apr 2017 Purab
Pax
Friend's Sincerity comes with Silent Comfort.
-six word story-

I've seen far enough superficiality in this world. That's why I don't ask much advice from anyone in the outside world. I've decided to look for them myself. A friend who understand without saying much at all, is a treasure.
 Apr 2017 Purab
Mike Adam
The only
Not wanted
Was
Breath

All of you

My darlings

I loved
 Apr 2017 Purab
K Balachandran
A lawless comet,
Galaxies curiously watch,
Cosmic boom alarms!
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