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 Jun 2018 Umang
Mary Gay Kearns
I come from sunlight,
      The sweeping of leaves,
      South London streets,
      Lurburnum seeds;
      Hot semolina,
      A spoonful of jam,
      Hands full of gooseberries,
      That's who I am.

      I come from rose petals,
      The sound of the fairs,
      The smell of candyfloss
      Mist in the air;
      I come from warmth,
      My parents hands,
      Outings to parks,
      Both small and grand.

     I come from knowledge,
     True and false,
     From nursery rhymes,
     And stories and pictures of God;
     I come from gentleness,
     A quiet afternoon,
     From visions of loveliness,
     Sewn on a spool.

    I come from two worlds,
    With different ways,
    A threaded pearl necklace,
    And sensible soles
    A mother and father,
    I think I knew,
    I came and I wandered,
    I looked at the view.

       By Mary **
Poem inspired by the Slam poets on BBC
 Jun 2018 Umang
Sara Brummer
Daybreak: a sleeve of wind’s voice,
Gentle ululations, then a smear of gold

There’s a shuddering of sequined water
Reflecting ice-veined crags still frozen
In distress.

A living lens snaps the moment
All the way to its vanishing point.
Then, long, slow sepals, slippery
As syllables of a foreign language,
Transmute to a giant bloom,
A silk-red reflection falling upward,
Tumbling over pink-sheep clouds
Interrupting the stillness
Of this blue-grey universe.
 Jun 2018 Umang
Ceyhun Mahi
Mankind
 Jun 2018 Umang
Ceyhun Mahi
We are a mess! But a beautiful mess.
And at times an unbelievable mess,
Both in our wonders and in our failures.
O Mankind is such a wonderful mess!
making love
suspends gravity
   and time
seconds expand
   into eternity
we are
   on top of the universe

floating
   in the fourth dimension
feeling  
   the birth of a new solar system
      amidst convulsive explosions
   whose brilliance
      light years into the future
   may be observed
   by keen astronomers

we do not mind

our system
radiates and shines
in its time

nothing else matters
 Jun 2018 Umang
Surbhi Dadhich
My crooked eyes gleamed with the ecstatic rainbow
Spirals of a pinechord
Petals of a sunflower
Holes of a honeycomb
Grains on a maize cob
Dews in a dreary desert
Rose in the horde of thorns
The pearl at seashore
The angel in a folklore
Apples on mighty hills
Goosebumps in a chilled breeze
Seas in aquariums
Hues in mosses and ferns
Camaraderie in fauna
Coquettish uproar in flora
Immortal in seldom
I waded the silvery tears
"BEAUTY ..indeed ..lies in the EYES of the BEHOLDER"...
 Jun 2018 Umang
Sparkle in Wisdom
When a rose bud is born... It slowly raises it's head...
Like wise was my tiny baby s sleeping closed eyes.. deep in sleep..

The stark deep red rose bud comes out of the green...
The same was the brightness of my son... Spotless, shining, serene..

The bud blooms,
That bright, glowing, strong petals
Likewise was the skin of my son... Like a shining sun..

But alas we love the young buds a far too much
We cut it and put in in vase
I am here staring at a bud like that in a hospital,
From behind the glass wall I am staring both.... I am reading innocence of both...

In NICU, my son is sleeping, lost in between the pipes which is giving him life,
The bud too in the vase thinking of it's mother...yearning to be in arms of it's mother..
The *** that holds it's mother out side.. Is also waiting for it to return...maybe!!
May be scared to bloom another bud....
The pain of losing is thr for both of us...
To loose is easy
To live in uncertainty is not...

How does a new born baby feel...I  know not...
How to satisfy day old baby s hunger ....I know not..
How is a 6th day* celebration done I know not...
How does it feel to bathe a new born...I know not...

What I know though
Is that my new born is sleeping in NICU
I have been staring him from glass for past one month
I will wear clean, sterilized clothes am ushered to be near him..
For few seconds... Once in 24 hrs... My maternal love becomes alive...
Though I go near him, cameras are thr, I cannot touch him, I can feel his breathing..I can see him sleeping...
My hands behind..
Face covered with mask..
I gaze at him with blurred eyes,
I give him love of both his dad* and myself...

Just for that moment...
Both of us again stand behind that glass wall
We show our son to all those who pass by
We hide our tears behind our smiles..
We stand again in wait thr...

When I took my month old baby in my arms for first time....
He is still the same, he looks still the same...
How are these wonders of universe, the creators..
How can a colorful life become color-less..
Each day, each moment some where a new bud is born..
A new creation everyday...

Sparkle in Wisdom
* sixth day...a celebration done in India.. done after 6th day of birth of new born... When they start wearing new dresses..

*Daddy was not allowed inside NICU.. Only I was allowed to go in. Once a day for few seconds.

I translated this from the original nanhi Kali... That I posted in Hindi...

The original I wrote after 5 years of birth of my son... While I remembered... The time spent in hospital at his birth.
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