Category: Poetry

  • Was It Worth It?

    Was It Worth It?

    Poem by Varrick Kwang Was it worth it: Five years of hard trainingFive hours per sessionWith all the sweat dropped per lessonGetting stronger is the reason. Two years of my life,Fighting under the hot sun in a burning uniform.All for the pay of peanuts The bank is brokenThe Wallet has holes in itAnd for what?Just…

  • MAYBE THIS WILL BE BETTER THAN THE LAST

    MAYBE THIS WILL BE BETTER THAN THE LAST

    Poem by Paris LeClaire I said, in vain, of course, butAlready I had mispelled the titleAnd the word “misspelled” and allI can think to write is the quietWord “ephemeral.” There is no greater loss than thatOf the language through which weBreathe, except, perhaps, for the dirt stainCreeping up on the clean white of mySandals. Perhaps.…

  • MY FIRST POEM

    MY FIRST POEM

    Poem by Paris LeClaire I am lying sideways on a momentI will feel, feel, feel until the dark slug slidingBetween my trachea and my esophagusIsn’t a slug but a waterCreature—or maybe some otherScaled, amphibious thing. Maybe.I’m not sure where I’ve seen it (I know I have):Not everything feels like something else.

  • Fluffy Affections

    Fluffy Affections

    Poem by Varrick Kwang Fluffy Boy Cute fluffy boyPlaying with yarn of a toyAs your clean white hair rustle with the windAs you bear brown little markings look like a marshmallow. Cute Fluffy boyHow carefree must you beTo sleep in the middle of the corridor where the humans walk.To loaf with such easeTo sploot with…

  • self-portrait as a book

    self-portrait as a book

    reposing on an undusted wood boardthat distinct smell aroundgrowing on me,my surface—slantedon the previous one’shandsome (barring magnetic),spare font intro,sedate and composed countenanceand a few violets for welcomeinto my world.if only you pick me, flip over my layersyou’ll know I have a storya web of technicolour memoriesa map of a fascinating journeyentwined with those of others,a…

  • War on Medicine

    War on Medicine

    I had to abolish you,How long would you grapple?Delighted to breakthrough,Enslaved, daily apple. Disgraceful fragility.Never imagined treacheryOf bitter inefficiency,And a myriad sisters left to memory. Serenity, dishonest,Instituted disciples of anger.Never again, you promised.Silence, refreshing candor. Vestiges of the past,Afflict my insides, mutinous.Hysterical sin, vastRecital of an ode to my uterus.

  • the creatures in the primrose fields

    the creatures in the primrose fields

    Shall we as ghostly fireflies,witness moonlit atrocities together,perched on windless gravestones to take this chance, as transient beingsserendipitously trappedin the wintry wineglasses of alleyway devotees; They witnessed once, how their gem-encrustedshipyards brushed the sky, brought down a rainof carnivorous silvers- & decked a church with neon roses,spat mica onto the heathens’ hands Come back to…

  • Mirror Mirror

    Mirror Mirror

    I stand myself forcing to staystill, and think of youI’ve seen the end of usI impose to my mind the craving of yourattention, as you are more than a friendyou are an excusea distraction Go on, say goodbyeto the one that i love,here Pretend that i love you morethan i tolerate youeven more so than…

  • To Madam Naidu

    To Madam Naidu

    By Shamik Banerjee Women’s History Month Poetry Winner From archives of Indian poetry,Your Palanquin, sweet accent to me bore,of strong-led womanhood, Your verse taught me,of such august life I knew not before.Valorous daughter of my motherland,Your enthronement, had all diverseness eased,Your governance- the first feminine stand,had women from their impoundment released.Whether the Dandi March or…

  • Act 1: The Banker’s Dispute With Laura

    Act 1: The Banker’s Dispute With Laura

    The Banker: petunias floating in a molten river ofpennies, what makes up simpleblood & bones, the killers waiting for a beggar’s ragdollbetween the emaciated fringes carving outFifth Avenue — & what now? Will Laura surrender all worldly oysters to be wrappedin a navy apron (out of sight, out of mind)on the prowl for spare change,…