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 Jun 2016 왕 자라
RAJ NANDY
Dear Poet Friends, Delhi is well known for its Dust Storms during the hot and humid month of May & June, and the absence of rain! This poem was composed in the Month of May 2008, and posted on ‘Poetfreak.com'.  Hope you like the same. Thanks, - Raj
    
                  DUST  STORM
All through the sultry and humid day,
The sky had grown angry and reddish grey!
And the evening suddenly became very still,
As an eerie silence crept there in!
When suddenly from the sky came rushing out,
Making a prolonged whistling and gushing sound,
As if some beastly hounds have been let out, -
There came the raging, ravaging, Dust Storm!

Lashing the tree tops and smashing window
panes ,
Uprooting old trees by road side and lanes!
Ravaging and railing with its destructive force,
Blew the angry and relentless dust storm!
As papers and packets and old withered leaves,
Flew around like thread-less kites on this hot
Summer's eve!
All my collected thoughts, desires, and dreams,
Flew helter-skelter with the winds up high,
Like rudderless ships without direction,
With the whirlwind in its maddening motion.
With dust in my hair, in my eyes and mouth,
As the sand storm raged all around and about!

When after some time like a spent out force,
The storm abated as night drew close.
With dust in my hair, in my eyes and mouth,
But a pleasant coolness prevailed all around!
Dust Am I, And To Dust I Shall Return, **
Once I wake up from my Earthly trance!
And with the raging dust storm I shall rage
one day,
To join up in its maddening dance in the month
of May!
                    ---Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
** Based on 'The Book of Common Prayers' for the Anglican Church, where for funeral services these words appear, - ''Ashes to ashes, dust to dust''!
 Jun 2016 왕 자라
Edward Coles
When you walked out the pub doors
On a sea of tears and last embraces,
The town stood still.
You broke my heart,
Set it back into place
So that I could feel again.

I was amongst the grown men
Turning backs on each other,
Wrangling our hair,
Pacing the floor,
Until we could not hold back
The occasion any longer.

I know when my plane comes
There will be brief handshakes,
Warm, worn smiles
Fastened from the heat
You gave so generously
To a town that grew cold
In your departure.

You taught us that kindness is enough.
Now rejoicing in private sobs,
Return of feeling for someone else.
This town we complained about,
Until you moved each man to song.

French lessons over the ashtray,
Anecdotes and private jokes
As far as the ear could hear.
I remember when the chemicals took over
And you danced in the sunglass shade
Of a darkened room.

Your energy bounced off the walls,
A pink-noise that echoed as I came down,
Nestled on my shoulder, totemic,
As I fought the speed, tried to sleep.
Beer bottles remained, the splintered ends
That serve as proof for last night’s fireworks.

You always made sure we were safe.

Our chance encounter,
Brief moments which collide,
Leaving marks,
Etching names
Onto stone that cannot wear away.
You taught me that sea of strangers
Is not a place to drown,
Just an avenue towards new land.

You could drink all the time
And it would not consume you.
Get stuck on a blue mood
And still leave your slumber,
Wide-eyed and hopeful for balance.

You left us standing in the rain
Our minds a roulette wheel,
Scattering between goodbye and farewell.
I guess I did not understand the stakes
Until you walked out of those pub doors.
I guess I had forgotten what loss meant,
Those years running from the blade of love
That cuts so finely the line
Of grief and glory.

I am bleeding here.
I am not sure when it will stop.
I am feeling again.
Thank you, friend.

Thank you.
This is a poem I wrote about a friend I made for half a year or so. She was French, teaching in the UK for around a year before going back. She left at the end of May on a sea of tears and it took me several days before the gloom of her departure left me. This isn't a love poem, more a gushing poem about friends. I have lived a very isolated life in the last couple years, and on her leaving, I re-discovered just how important others are. It really affected me.

Anyway, this is a poem I wrote once I had got home that night. It's not finished and it needs some work.

C
 Jun 2016 왕 자라
Austin Heath
We stopped talking but
you've messaged me four times now
to say I'm worthless.

I decided that
we weren't good as friends, and you
did just what you do.

Jay, I'm not asking
for your forgiveness, just that
you keep your silence.

I'm tired and longing
for a peace of mind you seem
eager to ******.

"Manipulative",
you texted me to say that
you were in Cleveland.

I read that message.
I waited three seconds and
I deleted it.

A long time ago,
yet so close to yesterday
I really loved you.

Your friends told you to
cut me out of your life, like
my friends said I should.

Neither were wrong, and
this is what it has come to.
This. This is the end.

Your interventions
always came up to protect
your own interests.
It would have been one year today...
One year if I had made you stay

One year minus; twenty plus one day
That's when you took your love away
It would have been one year today...

It's not; and that makes my heart tear,
that we never made it one full year,

and you are no longer here...

We didn't make it the full year round
Still wishing you're safe and sound.
It would have been one year today…
one year if I could've made you stay
 Jun 2016 왕 자라
Timothy H
happening upon
a sacred sandstone scene
not seen coming
not intended
now illuminated
through blindness of modernity
mother nature's sweat lodge
floating and fleeting
soaring to sourcing
consciously sharp to the present
each sweatdrop, each heartbeat,
each wisdom
there are one, then two
then ten thousand
not passingly noticed
but known intimately
petroglyphs etched into
mind body soul
The reason I write is simple
Not for you, not for me
But for my mind
And my emotions

The reason I stopped is simple
Because of you, because of me.
My mind is numb
My emotions locked away

The reason I write is false
It is for you, it is for me
Not for my mind
Nor my emotions

The reason I sat down and wrote this
Isn't simple at all.
It's for me, not for you.
I wanted to remind myself of what I lost.

The reason I am here.
I'm here for you to judge and like
I'm here for you to judge and dislike.
Because we are humans

And that is why I write.
Just a simple poem.
professional phone calls
seeping with the excess of formality
much like the strangers in your living room
who call themselves family
and the only room to breathe exists
in the interludes between conversations

in this limbo
you're sometimes caught
thinking about a girl who doesn't
love you
or the rugged edges of a face
resembling your father's

laps of repetition
dial, pause, voicemail
scripted dialogue left
from the same lips
which never found the right words

sometimes the steady ring
summons expectations of an answer
a voice without a body
to meet your work demands
or the simple silence
drawing you further into the void

marking progress
in tally sheets
tangible records of what you
have and have not done
measured by the 10-5 hourglass
before you're allowed to leave
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