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Yash Shukla Jul 11
काश उस दिन उसका भी कोई भाई होता,
आज वो सितारा हमारे बीच ज़िंदा होता।
काश कोई उसे जाकर बचा लेता,
कम से कम उसका तो ख़ून न बहता।

नरभक्षी भेड़ियों ने ली थी उसकी जान,
छोड़ा था उसे वहीं तड़पता, लहूलुहान।
चिल्लाती रही वो उसी जगह पर,
न जाने कितने ही जुल्म हुए थे उस पर।

नारी को निर्वस्त्र करने का परिणाम –
इस भूमि ने महाभारत देखा था।
धिक्कार है ऐसे समाज पर –
उसी भूमि ने आज यह अपराध देखा था।

जल रही हैं मोमबत्तियां शोक व्यक्त करने,
आंदोलन कर रहे हैं लोग और दे रहे हैं धरने।
क्या इस बार होगा उन दरिंदों पर कठिन शासन,
या फिर एक बार उभरेगा एक नया दुःशासन?
यह कविता १९ अगस्त २०२४ को लिखी गई है
Yash Shukla Jul 11
जगात एकटेच येता,
जगातून एकटेच जाता,
मग आयुष्यात तुम्ही कोणावर
कशाला अवलंबून राहता?

इथं कोणीच नसतं कोणाचं,
"तो आहे माझा..." असं फक्त म्हणायचं,
मदतीला मात्र कोणीही येत नाही,
सगळे बघतात फक्त आपल्याच फायद्याचं.

जग आहे अतिशय वाईट,
सगळेच म्हणतात "नो मोअर फाईट",
मग समोर येतात वाईट बातम्या –
"... वॉस किल्ड लास्ट नाईट."

बायकांना दिला जातो त्रास,
लोकांना मारणं समजलं जातं खास,
कधी वाटतं संपून जावं सगळं,
थांबून जावा एकसाथ सगळ्यांचा श्वास.
ही कविता १८ मार्च २०२० रोजी लिहिलेली आहे
Alfira N Jun 30
i should be resting
the bustling cars changed to windy fields
i should be thriving
finally safe to take off the mask of secrecy

but why can i hear the injustice louder
the farther i go
why do i feel the call even stronger
when i just let go

is it not my dream to be free
the happy-go-lucky
yet it still feels like I’m pretending
the pain is alive somewhere, beating
My pen is mourning the agonies and the sufferings
Of my people, who are drowning in the sea of misery.
My keyboard' strokes are shadowing the slow rhythms
Of the wandering beggar, who's lost in the sanctuary.

My voice denounces the filthy cholera and the injustices,
Which are punishing the weakest souls of the valley.
A tiny oligarchy is meagerly being rewarded;
What a shame for a man-made world corrupted with vices!

My daring pen defaces the inequality and the imbalance,
Which fool the image of a so called free world.
My laser beams burn the iris of the blind peasants,
Who can now see clearly the mini-sketch of my people.

I am the brother-in law of the cowardly executed poet
And the great-grandson of the poorest assassinated emperor.
I abhor the vanity and the lowliness of mankind in horror,
Oh! Lord, I'm going to read aloud twelve psalms, from my seat.

My pen is mourning my beloved people,
Who are innocently digesting the giant toxic apple.
My voice is seduced by the wind of liberty,
Which echoes the piercing screams of the hungry babies of Haiti.

P.S. Translation of 'Ma Plume Pleure Du Sang' by Hebert Logerie.

Copyright© November 2010, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of four books of poems:
Un nuevo Papa
Una nueva esperanza
Adiós al Papa Francisco
Quien hizo un maravilloso trabajo como Alto Clero
Como sabemos, la edad no cree en dinastías
Venimos, vamos y nos vamos como un beso
De vez en cuando se necesita sangre nueva
Y por supuesto, es natural; No es un crimen, una ofensa
Nuevo papam habemus
Nuevo spem habemus
Tenemos una nueva esperanza
Tenemos un nuevo Papa
Un nuevo líder para la Iglesia Católica
Se acabó la investigación, se acabó la elección y la polémica
Desde hace varias décadas, ningún hombre ni mujer es eterno
Los últimos Papas han sido amables, humildes, sinceros y universales
Ojalá este pontífice sea mejor que el anterior
(No es cosa de risa) Quién se sienta en el cielo
Para archivar y firmar sus documentos
Donde innumerables Ángeles cantan bajo las tiendas divinas
El mundo de hoy está sumido en una situación desastrosa y maligna:
Mentiras, crímenes, corrupción, expulsiones, discriminación e impunidad
Maldita sea, eso es quedarse corto
Sin embargo, el mundo entero anhela:
La paz, la paz y la paz
Queremos que todas las pesadillas terminen:
Injusticia, guerras, hipocresía, racismo, intolerancia y pobreza
Habemus novum spem
Habemus novum papam
Tenemos una nueva esperanza
Tenemos un nuevo Papa
¡Que Dios bendiga al nuevo Pontífice, a la naturaleza y a la humanidad!

Copyright © 8 de mayo de 2025, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
The moon, in its monolith state,
watching the earth as it torments itself alive.
The flames, sprinting house to house,
building to building-
cleaning the flesh and bones of the fleeing,
while it feasts on their names.
"Father! Father! Why are they doing this to us?!"
"Son...because we... are aliens..."
"Father?..."
...
...
...
Chains are put on,
running through generation to generation,
feeding on revenge, rage, and trauma-
down to the ancestral, cultural r’üts of the race.
Until then, the oppressed stares into their ancient scars.
Only seeing their own hands
dripping with fresh bludhymn
for the actions that are not
yet-
committed.

Clouds pass overhead.
Time grows ancient.
"Is it because we are devils?"
-centuries of clouds pass-
"... because we are robots."
-centuries of clouds pass-
"They imprisoned - the humans."
-centuries of clouds pass-
"Why am I born as an angel?"
-centuries of clouds pass-
"Why am I... different?"

These voices echo throughout the sky-
into roots that remember
every life they've ever swallowed,
into blood that refuses
to forget a single drop,
into threads that
can never unravel,
into...
upon...
its own...
endternal...
reflection.

Thus, built upon oppression,
                                        after oppression–
                             after oppression–
                    after oppression–
          after oppression–
after…
r’üts: Another word for ‘roots’ but added with a sense of depth and complexity, symbolizing the enduring connection to one’s heritage or lineage through trauma or societal forces.

bludhymn: A word that combines “blood” and “hymn,” representing the collective suffering and identity tied to personal bloodlines as passed down through generations as curse.

endternal: Something that feels endless, but at the same time is unclear or unresolved.
a letter unread is left outside the door
like a snare of anxiety
left to uproot all security in bone.
hanging heads-
hung themself;
what difference does it make
when choosing different hells.

what can i do?
a poem lamenting their anguish
so i can feel proud
to have whispered a word:
justice to the oppressed and undeserved.
what power lies in my hands
to give to those with none-
a transfusion of privilege;
one couldn't even dream it to be possible-

once diversity is blanketed in white
like harsh winter,
we will starve of life itself
and weep for days void of color.
No mess is fantastic
Lack of respect leads to war
War is horrific, evil and poor
Racism is not chic
Modern slavery is painful
Hate is awful, hurtful and plentiful
There is no justice
They don’t really want peace
Hypocrisy is ubiquitous
Supremacy is senseless
Discrimination is tasteless
Their audacity is obvious
Corruption is rampant
And the economy decadent
This is absolute chaos
The whole thing is a mess
Less than nothing: worthless
Death shall come. Alas
At last to change the formula
That’s karma
Nothing is eternal
Power is ephemeral
Tomorrow is a song
Belonging to no one
I know I’m not wrong
I am addressing everyone
I am talking to the crowd
Without being too loud
Long live Respect and Peace!
Long live Love and Justice!

Copyright © March 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Arii Mar 21
You bring out the worst in me
And I can’t believe I didn’t see
Your true intention.
No wonder there was alway so much tension

When we’d

Sit around and
talk about

A future that we
didn’t have

A future that I couldn’t see
A future you took away from me.

It doesn’t sting,
it doesn’t burn.
It tastes bitter on my tongue,
but it doesn’t hurt.

No, I won’t let you get to me,
no more,
I won’t let you wreck me
any more.

Leave me be, and
maybe you’ll see
You’re not who you make yourself
out to be.
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