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The Daily Verse
To make The Wise Owl more dynamic, we have introduced The Daily Verse, a segment where we will upload poetry all days of the week. Just send in a poem to editor@thewiseowl.art
April
Theme: Verdant Echoes
Friday, 25th April, 2025
Puzzle
by Hester L Furey
A rare free day of blue and gold
I walk to shake out the knots
Spring trees have spilled their yellow dust
I close my eyes against the sun
I open and find a universe
I rest my head against a rail
The ancient turtles have hidden
One can see to the bottom
In this neighborhood stream
I count fish and see
all that belongs
And all that does not
About the Author
Hester L. Furey is a poet and literary historian specializing in hidden histories and archival research. Furey has published many poems and essays in journals and encyclopedias. Representative full length works include a book of poems, Skeleton Woman Buys the Ticket (2019) and a reference book she compiled and edited, Dictionary of Literary Biography 345: American Radical and Reform Writers, Second Series. She lives in Atlanta with her black cat, Skillet.
Thursday, 24th April, 2025
early morning --
dancing in the wind
the song of the swallows
on the empty trunk
rosary of hope --
green ivy
new shoots --
the breath of time
beyond the threshold
About the Author
Giuliana Ravaglia was born in the province of Bologna (Italy), is a former primary school teacher and has a great love for poetry, especially haiku. His poems have been published on websites and online magazines: Otata, Troutswirl, ESUJ-H, Asahi Haikuist Network, The Mainichi, Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Haikuuniverse, Cold Moon Journal, Akita International Haiku Network, The Bamboo Hut, Take 5ive, Haiku Corner, Memoirs of a Geisha, HaikuNetra, Haiku World, Failed Haiku among others. he received Honorable mention in Haiku EuroTop 100
Wednesday, 23rd April, 2025
A flower flew out of my hand
By Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick
Spring was in the air and nature had dressed up in green.
The banyan tree had a fresh coat of leaves.
The China Doll flowers were swaying, oh what a scene!
Parrots were vying for attention with the green leaves around.
The sparrows were searching for food in the lush green grass.
The squirrels were scampering on the trees, round and round.
In this verdant scene, the poet in me was mesmerised.
Suddenly a China Doll flower fell on my head,
I looked up at the tree surprised.
I picked up the flower with care,
The soft, pink flower so delicate and fine,
And all of a sudden, it flew out of my hand in the breezy fun fare.
I looked around at nature which was dazzling in sunshine
And looked at the flower which flew out of my hand.
How it danced and pranced in the green grass on that day divine.
Nature was rejoicing in newness that day,
It was bathed in the freshness of green.
The flower didn’t want to be trapped, so joined nature’s sway.
About the Author
Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick is a scientist, a literary curator and an award-winning poet. She has published 11 books and her books have been translated into 45 languages. Her latest awards being the “Ukiyoto Poet of the Year” in January this year, one of six women around India to receive an award themed, “Women: Breaking Barriers, Leading Futures, Shaping Change” last year and one of twenty recipients of the “Mumbai Woman Leadership Award 2024”. She promotes peace, multilingual and indigenous poetry. Through her poems she makes children and adults aware about conservation and climate change. Paramita heads two poetry and performance forums in Mumbai.
Tuesday, 22nd April, 2025
belching city i walk with green legs
her touch sets in motion the green in a leaf
touches her back a blade of grass
Monday, 21st April, 2025
Blessings of growing green
By Sreelekha Chatterjee
My old thoughts, pulsing with ebb and flow
of unending life’s kineses,
as well as my surroundings—
the multiform Nature—
toss up merrily, utterly altered.
Appearing anew along with Nature,
prelude to a world ascending—
fallow periods of winter transforming
onto flourishing neoteric existence,
the glory of the Lord that
every newly commenced living form provides.
Faith de novo when struggle purges,
suffering transmutes to healing,
death retells of life-giving.
For in every end, there is a beginning.
Amorous sillion in the fields await,
ready to accept the seeds of tomorrow.
Bathed in the brilliant luminance
are the birds soaring high and free
akin to our souls that resurrect from slumber—
hope for wondrous and beautiful hereafter.
About the Author
Sreelekha Chatterjee is a poet from New Delhi, India. Her poems have appeared in Madras Courier, Setu, Raw Lit, Verse-Virtual, The Wise Owl, Pena Literary Magazine, Ghudsavar Literary Magazine, Orenaug Mountain Poetry Journal, Poetry Catalog, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, Creative Flight, Medusa’s Kitchen, Everscribe, and in the anthologies—Light & Dark (Bitterleaf Books, UK), Personal Freedom, The Harvest & the Reaping, Winter Glimmerings, and Whose Spirits Touch (Orenaug Mountain Publishing, USA), and Christmas-Winter Anthology Volume 4 (Black Bough Poetry, Wales, UK), among others.
About the Author
Belinda Behne grew up in the midwest, but she has spent most of her adult life in the vibrant culture of New York City. Her first career, as a teacher of special education, led her to the love of art, literature and theatre. She has pursued her passions of acting, writing poetry and performing professional voice-overs for more than three decades. She currently lives on the edge of a salt marsh, where life continues to inspire her in new ways. Her poems can be found in LEAF Journal, The Wise Owl, Scarlet Dragonfy and Cold Moon Journal.
Friday, 18th April, 2025
The Earth also needs a therapist
By Kashiana Singh
Acorn woodpecker
shuttling between seasons
autumn equinox
black-eyed-susans hibernate.
Corpse flower
swallowed suns,
earth flaming amid a crumbling sky
collapsed utterances.
Thunderclap
a deer propels
itself into the night—
her silhouette lingers, alone.
Witch songs
are utterances entombed in rituals
northern lights
flicker between dusk and dawn.
Basket weaving
loosening the knots of excess
studying
the bird, the wind, the reed.
And the earth hums,
waiting for dawn to return,
she squats in wait for a therapist
just as we have bent in obedience to fate.
About the Author
Kashiana Singh (http://www.kashianasingh.com/) serves as President of the North Carolina Poetry Society, Managing Editor of Poets Reading the News, and has authored five collections of poetry. Kashiana’s TEDx talk was dedicated to her life mantra of Work as Worship. Her newest collection called Witching Hour was released with Glass Lyre Press in September 2024.
Thursday, 17th April, 2025
Change is in the air
By Sherin Mary Zacharia
From one wind’s wings to another’s
Climate tries to look pleasant.
All trees and all their flowers
Yellow hue lines the street sides
Covers the earth, gazing from below
Sun’s golden rays showered.
Day wakes up,
Travels from hot to humid
March yearns
For chilled watermelon juice
More glasses of mint lime.
Tropical forests ablaze
Seas simmer, their anguish.
Memories cool, cross over
Haze lifts, reality scorching.
Streams of sweat try to dampen
Fire within an overworked mind.
Milk curdles,
Air steams
Butter turns sour
Feeling too.
Night unfriends the fluffy blanket
Warm transforms to sultry
Suspiring , to the aircon’
Purring, cat dreams a fish
Air awaits colourful buds to bloom
slips back to cycle of joys and sorrows.
About the Author
Sherin Mary Zacharia a young poet of 21 expresses herself through her verses. She loves to write about nature most but some of her poems are on topics like mental illness and disability. She is a regular blogger (www.musingsofsher.in) and often contributes to English anthologies. She has received several awards and recognitions latest being the selection of her poem by the United Nations as part of observing World Autism Awareness Day 2023. A self-learner she likes to read, watch visual lessons and travel. Being a non speaking autistic she lets her poetry be her voice. Moonlight is her collection of poems and short prose(2017). She is a co author of Talking Fingers(2022) and Discourses on Disability (2021) Sherin is from Kochi , Kerala, India where she lives with her parents, younger sister and pet cat.
Wednesday, 16th April, 2025
Poems
By Susan Burch
still no cure
for Alzheimer’s
watching
the oak tree
lose
all of its leaves
buying
“just 1 more pair”
of shoes
my daughter
in personal competition
with Imelda Marcos
20 More Years?
Sometimes I think my migraines are bad karma. I must deserve them somehow.
the whorls
of a galaxy
how long
must I pay for
these sins
About the Author
Susan Burch began writing tanka poetry in April 2013. Then haiku, senryu, haibun, gembun, tanka prose, sedoka, sedoka prose, and cherita. When she writes, she lets the poem be what wants it to be. All the poems in this book wanted to be cherita, and were kept together on purpose, as a collection. None of them were previously published. Susan was the Vice President of The Tanka Society of America from 2017- 2024. She was also the Editor of Haiku in Action from 2023-2024. Susan resides in Hagerstown, Maryland, USA, with her amazing husband, Sexy Beast, and daughter, British Baby. She enjoys reading, doing puzzles, birding, and watching Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team.
Tuesday, 15th April, 2025
falling asleep
to the sound of rain
nature station on my phone
light diffused
bending through the universeto me, rainbow
Vivaldi's Spring
through open windows
first crocus
About the Author
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared internationally in a wide variety of journals, two of her poems have won international contests and one was recently turned into a choral piece for a concert. Jennifer has two books of published poetry, My Eyes Adjusting (2024) and Liquid Sky (2025). To-date, more than 1,400 of her poems have been published in just over two years.
Monday, 14th April, 2025
The Cruelest Month
By Shweta Sahai
April sings an aubade
As the rude Sun divvies up
The white snow into blue rivers
Heliotropes struggle out
From the clammy clods of earth
After all that lugubrious cold
The balmy sunshine is benison
Brown trees unfurl their leaves
Like gossipers whispering canards
Into the atmosphere
Old lady winter is segueing
Smoothly into spring of youth
Travelling back through the
Byzantine paths of time
Resting in eternity
As people coddiwomple
Through the vagaries of life
Because April is ‘the cruelest month’*
I stand at the crossroads of seasons
Infatuated beyond reason
About the Author
Shweta Sahai is a Professor of Medicine, working in a Government setup. Shweta says Medicine is her profession and poetry is her passion. Her poetry has been published on many platforms, namely the ‘Anthology of Women poets from India and South Africa’, Glomag, ILA magazine and ‘The Wise Owl’. Sh also dabble in art, using various mediums.
Friday, 11th April, 2025
Spring
By Mridula Sharma
Ah, spring!
The spring breeze
barely whispers
and the yellow brown confetti
takes the cue
It floats around
and falls in a shower
from age gnarled branches
detached and merry
On the gleaming metalled road
little leafy waves eddy up behind moving vehicles
whooping soundlessly
at their own prank—
their farewell jig
The new green
shimmers against the clear blue
squints at the sun
curiously
finger in the mouth
infantile
Mango sprays crumble
into sheer fragrance
Surrender
at the slightest hint
of a touch
Heady
with dreams
of abundance,
sweet and tangy
Little school girls —
Alyssums and pansies
Eyes crinkling in laughter
a tantalising little secret
fluttering palpably
through their huddle
as someone passes by
I watch this party play out
from where I grow
and where I remain
perennial
On my branches
thorny reminders
of resilience,
of a life lived.
I am the bougainvillea.
I know all that I can’t be
anymore
But in me
you will hear
the distinct hum of spring
As I burst forth anew
each time
Bold
Fuchsia
Stunning
Thursday, 10th April, 2025
Equinox
(A Ghazal)
By Anju Kishore
They say my path is bursting with pink trumpets this March
But my heart is still beating to winter’s footsteps this March
What is it about loss that what is lost is lost again
And again denials spun me their cold, dark nets this March
The dimness of my winter has so left me groping
That all I’ve found are a handful of regrets this March
Friends walked up but hastened their pace past my house
As if struck it was by the plague not tempests this March
What do they know of prayer beads rolled from torn sails
Those who revelled in sunshine on their doorsteps this march
I chanted the name of the one blossom denied to me
Alas, Spring herself was turned away by my frets this March
Now I sit still, a flower on each of my fingertips
Watching my winter go as far as it gets this March
Why gaze at the heavens when the earth’s such a feast, they askTell them that Anjum’s been freed from seasonal debts this March
About the Author
Anju Kishore is a Pushcart (Poetry) Prize 2022 and 2024 nominee, a Touchstone Award 2023 longlister, and an award-winning editor of numerous free-verse anthologies. Her first book of poems, ‘…and I Stop to Listen’ was published in 2018 and her second book, ‘My Conversations with God, Life, and Death’ in 2025. Her poems are part of significant anthologies like Aatish 2, The Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English 2022 and 2023(Hawakal and Pippa Rann Books, UK respectively), and Late-blooming Cherries 2024 (Haiku Poetry from India, Harper Collins). She has dabbled in online theatre and is currently exploring Japanese forms of poetry.
Wednesday, 9th April, 2025
Spring in my Gait
By Santosh Bakaya
“Sonth” They call the season back home.
The blooming saffron fields, sparkling landscapes,
the throbbing, pulsating earth and the verdant greenery.
Birds chirping in avian mirth, heralding a new birth.
Joyous footsteps on the trekking trails,
and majestic chinars rustling happily.
It is as if the earth has magically realized its worth.
The Zabarwan Hills play host to fluffy clouds,
smiling their infectious gold- tinted smiles.
Tulips shimmer and tourists stroll under almond trees,
which are clad in fragile white and pink finery.
As a tiny imp, I often lamented the disappearance of the snowman,
with the first hint of spring. Did it merge with the crystal clear stream?
Yay, I could see a carrot, in the stream.
Actually, its Pinocchio nose bobbing up and down,
while my little brother played the clown,
his golden hair more golden, trying to retrieve the nose.
Oops, the carrot from the stream!
Long back, while strolling with his sister,
around Glencoyne Bay in the Lake District,
Wordsworth had spied ‘a host, of golden daffodils,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.’
Not very long back, while strolling with my kid brother
near the River Lidder, I glimpsed a breathtaking scene.
Myriad hued, wildflowers swayed in vibrant queues.
I can’t say whether their dance was sprightlier
than the dance of Wordworth’s daffodils-
but it was sprightly- and it was a dance!
There was spring at my gate.
There was spring in my gait.
About the Author
Santosh Bakaya is a Ph.D., a poet, essayist, novelist, biographer, Tedx speaker and has authored as many as twenty-three books across different genres. She is the Winner of Reuel International Award for poetry [2014] and Setu Award for her stellar contribution to world literature [2018]. She has been acclaimed for her poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Ballad of Bapu. Her biography on Martin Luther King Jr. Only in Darkness can you see the Stars has also been critically acclaimed. Her latest book is Runcible Spoons and Pea-green Boats. She pens a weekly column called Morning Meanderings in Learning and Creativity. Com.
Tuesday, 8th April, 2025
A universe waits for existence
By Chitra Gopalakrishnan
Green tendrils heavy with pods
Fragile and florescent
Embark with hope on rough bamboo racks
Fragrant violet flowers among velvet leaves
Wellsprings of energy
Divulge secrets of their fertility
Columns of oblong bottle gourds
Lush and languorous
Sing of an entire world’s dream
And, bumblebees foraging for pollen
Echoing blobs of black and yellow
Nectar a new universe into existence
About the Author
Chitra Gopalakrishnan, a New Delhi-based journalist and a social development communications consultant uses her ardour for writing, wing to wing, to break firewalls between nonfiction and fiction, narratology and psychoanalysis, marginalia and manuscript and treeism and capitalism. Author website: www.chitragopalakrishnan.com
Monday, 7th April, 2025
What is the Word
By Vinita Agrawal
for
a pool beneath a waterfall
the shape of a bend in a river
a heart, clenched and heavy, holding rain
tomorrow‘s numbness waiting in the wings
beaten skin
bruised breaths
hollow hours
hugs contusions give themselves
days where sunlight does not reach
seeing oneself on a stranger’s bookshelf
the key that returns you home
the sound of mother humming?
About the Author
Vinita Agrawal has authored five books of poetry, - Twilight Language (Winner of the Proverse Prize 2021), Two Full Moons (Bombaykala Books), Words Not Spoken (Brown Critique), The Longest Pleasure (Finishing Line Press) and The Silk Of Hunger (AuthorsPress), Vinita is an award winning poet, editor, translator and curator. Joint Recipient of the Rabindranath Tagore Literary Prize 2018 and winner of the Gayatri GaMarsh Memorial Award for Literary Excellence, USA, 2015. She is Poetry Editor with Usawa Literary Review. Her work has been widely published and anthologised.
About the Author
Jahnavi Gogoi is a Canadian poet who spent her formative years in Assam, India.Over the years, her work has been published in various publications across the world . She writes a lot about the natural world and the beauty around her. She lives in the town of Ajax in Ontario with her family and loves to read thrillers and write poetry.
Thursday, 3rd April, 2025
A Human reimagined
By Sitara Leela
She emerged out of her deep cave
Out of Kali's womb, shimmering
Into the wider spaciousness of
The ever ~ present, ever ~ moving
in rippling Saundarya Lahiri.
Transcending into a human,
she churned for years
for centuries
for lifetimes
from a grace sucking,
uroborous
Into
beauty and gentle presence.
She was a river
Mutilated, ghosted
Forgotten, a shadow
Becoming dark waters,
Tumultuous, wrath ~ fuelled.
A river that suspends itself in herself,
In her own grief,
penury,
tapas clearing
unbecoming,
a river that now flows both ways.
She is the coalescence of dark
With its light,
Of Shiva with his Shakti,
a heart wholesome and spacious.
She is the very essence of moksha,
A goddess arriving
like Monet’s pond of water lilies.
This presence, that is birthed,
In this living moment
Is one’s humanness.
About the Author
Sitara Leela is a dreamwalker poet and oracular storyteller, who resides in her sanctuary in the city of Kochi, Kerala.
Wednesday, 2nd April, 2025
lighter days
the rebirth of us
in a cotton sky
pansy buds
covered in snow
early moonrise
happiness
becoming the river
of spring gold
About the Author
Joanna Ashwell is a short form poet (from the UK) who writes Haiku, Tanka, Haibun, Cherita and other related forms. She has published four collections of poetry. Between Moonlight a collection of haiku was published by Hub Editions in 2006. Her tanka collection ‘Every Star’ was published by KDP on Amazon in 2023. Her Cherita collection ‘River Lanterns’ was published by 1-2-3 Press on Amazon in 2023. She currently serves on the selection team for the Canadian Tanka Journal GUSTS.
Tuesday, 1st April, 2025
Pure Reflections
By Mehak Varun
Whispers drift through emerald canopies,
Where sunlight splinters into dappled gold,
And the wind, with its gentle, wandering hands,
Stirs the slumbering scent of earth and rain.
Leaves murmur secrets to the trembling grass,
Each blade leaning closer, as if to listen,
While moss-covered stones hum softly,
Their memories seeping into the stream’s song.
In the hush of dawn, the forest exhales—
Breathing out the echoes of a thousand springs,
Where roots once clung to yesterday’s rain,
And petals wept for fleeting summers.
Here, the green speaks in fragments,
In rustling prayers and chlorophyll sighs,
In the fleeting hush of a falling leaf,
And the linger of footsteps fading into fern.
The earth keeps no record of time,
Only the echo of it—
A soft and solemn hymn
In the verdant hush of forever.
About the Author
Writer, poet, an artist, Mehak Varun, is the author of four books - THE Humane Quest vol 1, 2 & 3 and & I am Me. She has been bestowed with 100 Inspiring Authors of India Award in Kolkata. She has also been honoured with the Women Of Influence 2019 award presented on women's day in New Delhi. Along with her books, her work has been published in various anthologies. She has also been certified with a course on persuasive writing and public speaking from Harvard.
Monday, 31st March, 2025
Monday, 31st March, 2025
Photo Credit: Anushka Sharma
The Search
By Dan Hardison
Dear Old Days
By Anushka Sharma
I will search until someday
I find you again.
And even as I grow old
I know you will be there.
So, I will search until I find
the dream I left behind.
Lost when I was young
and carefree.
I remember the gold streaks on green,
It now all seems like a distant dream.
When the breeze really touched the heart,
The landscape made into the most beautiful art.
The laughter from those days, so sweet and clear,
No moment of today could ever come near.
The leaves would move ever so slightly,
Indicating their spirit and grace so brightly.
The chipper of spring, the warmth of summer,
How I’d scamper through the fields, like the fastest runner.
I’d look longingly at the high hills cradling the sun,
From those soaring peaks, my biggest ambitions spun.
Marching like tiny soldiers to the bus stop on schooldays,
OH! How I wish to go back to the old ways.
The sky, a canvas of endless dreams,
What adulthood couldn’t do, the childhood redeems.
The biting winters were especially harder,
Made vivacious by peoples’ warmth and ardour.
The night sky was draped in embroidered sequins,
Giving birth to shimmering clouds and the widest grins.
The sparrows, delicate and fleeting,
Much like the old talks and greetings.
Gentle rains wove heaven to the earth
Every corner of my Shimla reflects its worth.
It all now seems like a tale of the oldest times,
But I can blissfully say, those days were truly mine
About the Author
A native of Tennessee, Dan Hardison now lives in Wilmington, North Carolina where he is a writer and artist. Dan's artwork is inspired by Japanese woodblocks and ink painting (sumi-e). As an artist and writer, he is drawn to the Japanese haiga – a combination of image and poem. This has led to recent work creating handmade artist books. His writing is primarily in the Japanese short form of haiku and haibun, and has appeared at Frogpond, Cattails, Contemporary Haibun Online, Drifting Sands, and other print and online journals. Dan's work can be found on his website 'Windscape Studio' and blog 'Some Tomorrow’s Morning.'
Anushka Sharma is a 20 year old English Honours student, residing in Chandigarh. Being passionate about storytelling, she has been crafting short stories and poetry from a young age. She draws inspiration from her everyday life and the intersectionality of time, space and the universe. Hailing from the picturesque town of Shimla, her writing is infused with the tranquil beauty of the mountains. Her creative spirit is highly refined by the serenity of her hometown. Beyond writing and reading, she enjoys dancing ( having been trained as a classical dancer since she was three years old) playing the piano and hiking.
Saturday, 29th March, 2025
An Aubade to March
By Avantika Singh
in the crimson hush of twilight
magic stirs the embers of the first light
March dawns from winter’s chrysalis
on the whispering wind, a gentle kiss
a liminal space
between what was and what is—
filled with possibility
trembling in its vulnerability
an aubade in time
a time sublime
the hush before the awakening
the gentle hum before the roaring…
floating on the sea of consciousness
in the silver stream of existence
About the Author
Avantika Vijay Singh is a communications professional, wearing the hats of a writer, editor, poet, researcher, and amateur photographer. She has authored two solo anthologies, edited three anthologies, and has been published in national and international journals. She received the Nissim International Award Runner Up 2023, WE Gifted Poet 2024, and WE Illumination Award 2024.
Friday, 28th March, 2025
Dirge
By TSC Mouli
Sadness saps energy
precious life withers
pain beyond words
slices spirit unremittingly.
Last moments creep quietly
like water under mat spread
inhaling vitality ruthlessly
march towards goal stretches.
Strength deserts deceptively
jolting rock like soul
whispers spew silent venom
tired breath seeks relief!
About the Author
Sony Dalia is pseudonym of Dr T. Sai Chandra Mouli, an academic, poet, translator and critic. He is a Fellow of Royal Asiatic Society, Great Britain and Ireland. Apart from 5 books of poems in English Delightful Dawn, Graceful Green, Hopping on Hope. Sparklers and Radiant Redeemers, he published 31 books [21 edited anthologies of literary criticism and 10 literary texts translated from Telugu into English]. He is the Chief Editor of VIRTUOSO, a Refereed Transnational Bi-Annual Journal of Language and Literature in English. Vice Chairman of AESI [Association of English Studies in India] for two consecutive terms, Dr Mouli made presentations in International Conferences in universities in China, Thailand, among others.
Thursday, 27th March, 2025
summer rain
palms facing up
glitter gold
rolling stones
bubbles
ferry tales
kernel and chaff
breeze travels
light
About the Author
Kavita Ratna is a children's rights activist, poet and a theatre enthusiast. Sea Glass is her anthology of poems published by Red River. Her poems have appeared in The Kali Project: Invoking the Goddess within, A little book of serendipity, Muse India, The Wise Owl, Triveni Hakai India, Haiku in Action, the Scarlet Dragonfly, the Cold Moon Journal, Five Fleas Itchy poetry, the Haiku Dialogue, Stardust Haiku, Leaf (Journal of The Daily Haiku), and many others. She was on the Haiku panel at the Glass House Poetry Festival, Bangalore, 2024. She is also a Pushcart Prize nominee, 2024.
Wednesday, 26th March, 2025
Life's Rapidity
By Sangeeta Sharma
Nothing surpasses the speed of life
Like Talaria, Hermes’ winged sandals, or an arrow, that darts at the blink of an eye
Swiftly leaving treacly-tangy instants behind and zoom fly
The rising sun in all its glory fires up the sinews with its golden eye-blinding glaze
Few hours, the sun wanes with the cool, silvery moon appearing with its pleasing rays
Or the murky clouds blocking the coruscate with their scary haze
Life never identical, provides some let-up
Now and then from the painful phase
Instead of exacerbating the vulnerable state!
About the Author
Sangeeta Sharma, a Toronto-based academic, is the Senior Editor of Setu, a bilingual, international peer-reviewed journal and former head, English, in a degree college affiliated to the University of Mumbai. She has authored a book on Arthur Miller, three collection of poems, edited seven anthologies on poetry, fiction and criticism (solo and joint) and two workbooks on communication. A nemophilist at heart, writing poetry as a Romanticist exalts her.
About the Author
Vijay Prasad is a poet from Patna, India. He is disappointingly interested in life. He has a passion for haiku, language, philosophy, and so on ... He is published in Bones, Under the Basho, tinywords, Failed Haiku, The Mumba Journal, Haiku Dialogue, Prune Juice, among others.
Monday, 24th March, 2025
March: The In-Between
By Nishi Chawla
March walks in on brittle bones,
neither keeper nor wanderer,
only a thin breath between endings and beginnings.
The trees, indecisive, hold their bare arms aloft,
not yet convinced by the hush of warmth crawling
beneath the frozen ribs of the earth.
Somewhere, a river forgets its ice,
splinters it off in slow abandonment,
sending jagged memory downstream.
The fields exhale in patches,
the sun lingers longest, frost withdraws,
the shadow still leans, the cold clings.
Clouds move, hands rearranging sky,
pulling blue from the folds of winter’s coat,
the wind, unfinished in its work,
still carries the scent of distance.
The birds return in increments,
not in triumph but in careful measure,
testing the air like a child pressing toes
into uncertain water.
At night, the thaw retreats,
a temporary surrender to the past.
come morning, the earth shifts again,
an unseen hinge creaking toward bloom.
March, the doorway no one lingers in,
unfinished sentence before the verb,
the tide before it fully turns,
a waiting place where nothing stays
but everything changes.
About the Author
Dr Nishi Chawla is an academic, a writer and a filmmaker. Nishi Chawla has published ten plays, two novels, and seven collections of poetry. She has also written and directed four award winning art house feature films. She has also co-edited two global anthologies of poetry published by Penguin Random House: 'Greening the Earth' and 'Singing in the Dark.'
Friday, 21st March, 2025
Red Hibiscus
By Radha Chakravarty
every day, Ma,
in cupped palms you offered
a fresh-plucked red hibiscus
to your god, singing prayers
for our souls every day
until one day the song abandoned you
and the hibiscus bloomed un-plucked,
until, sighing, it shed blood red petals
like scattered droplets
of your disintegrating mind
day by day, slowly
your old self left us
shedding cells of memory
like a snake’s discarded skin
leaving a vanishing trail
of clues to who you once were
or might have been
every day, slowly,
you lost your way
in the forest of forgetting,
knew our faces, yet
mistook our names
until one day you saw us as strangers
old songs lingered longest
in your mind’s bewildered hive
tuneless crooning affirming
you were there still though lost
somewhere in the forest
of forgetting
until one day the music stopped
and you turned a deaf ear to our calls
your fragile helpless hand
groping for a grip
on the handles of old familiar things
as we too struggled to hold on
to the you we knew
holding in desperate hands
your frail frame as you forgot
slowly, slowly, day by day,
how to see, hear, touch, feel, and pray
until one day,
that day you went away,
a red hibiscus bloomed in the garden
in blood red glory
and we knew, then, where to find you still,
we knew then where the lost trail led
Note: This poem is for my mother, Anita Barari, who died of Alzheimers, and for all those who felt the devastating effects of dementia.
About the Author
Radha Chakravarty is a widely published writer, critic and translator. Subliminal: Poems is her recent collection of poetry. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She contributed to Pandemic: A Worldwide Community Poem (Muse Pie Press, USA), nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020.
Thursday, 20th March, 2025
fresh hyacinths -
my barefoot heart
anchored in the sky
kite -
I still run after you
my disheveled spring
scattered in the wind
dandelion seeds -
a new journey
About the Author
Giuliana Ravaglia was born in the province of Bologna (Italy), is a former primary school teacher and has a great love for poetry, especially haiku. His poems have been published on websites and online magazines: Otata, Troutswirl, ESUJ-H, Asahi Haikuist Network, The Mainichi, Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Haikuuniverse, Cold Moon Journal, Akita International Haiku Network, The Bamboo Hut, Take 5ive, Haiku Corner, Memoirs of a Geisha, HaikuNetra, Haiku World, Failed Haiku among others. he received Honorable mention in Haiku EuroTop 100
Wednesday, 19th March, 2025
A Meaning in the Making
By Nidhi Rana
They made her feel
that she was the chaos
in every order,
the concealed seed of discord,
in each note of harmony,
the envy that brewed
in her lack of attention
or in the awareness
of her criticism.
She found herself scraping
to be the truth
she could breathe into her voice,
the ego she must master.
She needed to be the eloquence
that hid in shadows
of feeling too much, too deeply,
which obscured reason,
lurking like a mirage,
on the horizon of
answers given and questions asked.
She coerced herself
to cross over the threshold
to step over the line
to breach the bounds of her being
to embark on a new journey
that speared inwards.
She bludgeoned herself
to transform,
metamorphosize,
to translate,
into a benediction of time.
She created herself into that woman,
who was her own meaning in the making!!
About the Author
Dr. Nidhi Rana is an Assistant Professor in English in Post Graduate Government College for Girls, Sector-42, Chandigarh. Recipient of the prestigious State Award 2021 for her meritorious service, she has also edited two Coffee table books for the UT Chandigarh Administration. She writes poetry and short stories to give voice to her experiences as she passionately engages with life. Her poems have figured in various anthologies and magazines like Muse India. Her first book of poetry titled ‘Of Love, Longing and Other poems’ was published in August 2023.
Tuesday, 18th March, 2025
once nubile,
the cynosure of all eyes,
spring in her gait,
now confined within a shell
etched by time,
her seasons entwined,
blossom to wither
…ephemeral
renewal...
buds unfurl,
memories stir
winter-worn hands
crave the sun’s embrace
rebirth...
green pierces through
melting snow
on her water bed
she floats downstream
to her springtime
where roots remember
and silence blooms
About the Author
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) has an MBA in Marketing and Corporate work experience of over two decades. She enjoys writing all genres of poetry, prose, short stories, and travel diaries. Brought up in a cosmopolitan environment, and educated in Convent Schools run by Irish Nuns, she has imbibed the best from Eastern and Western cultures. She has authored 4 books, namely Trail Mix, Minds Unplugged, Evocative Renderings & Tales of the Twins.
Monday, 17th March, 2025
On Winter's Threshold
By Satbir Chadha
Summer doesn’t leave and winter’s slow to come
I love this calm soothing long drawn autumn
The squirrel curls it’s bushy tail as it basks in the sun
The birds too delay their long yearly sojourn
But the earth knows its timings and follows them true
For the spinach has grown big and the lettuce is fragrant
Tiny golden blooms have sprung on the mustard greens
Tall and short trees though shorn and naked, seem to be in prayer
So calm is the countryside and ever so serene
Just a few showers from the gaping yawning clouds
Like blessings from heaven will cleave the grey shroud
Of the smog hanging in temperatures temperate
And make way for the winter that’s running late
About the Author
Satbir Chadha is the author of the highly acclaimed book, “For God Loves Foolish People”, for which she was awarded the Reuel International prize. Her second novel is “Betrayed, tale of a rogue surgeon”, a medical thriller. She has been published in over twenty national and international anthologies, containing poetry and short stories. She has three solo poetry collections to her credit, “Breeze”, “Glass Doors”, and the recent “The Last Lamp”. She was awarded the Litpreneur Award by Authorspress for her contribution to literature. She is also the founder of the NISSIM International Prize for Literature, awarded every year to upcoming writers of English prose and poetry.
Friday, 13th March, 2025
Exhale
By Ananya Chatterjee
Is sadness a visitor in your life
One that overstayed
beyond
the departure date-
Sorrow,
preparing to leave
tomorrow.
But never does?
Or is sadness your housemate-
A permanent presence
Oscillating between
Comfort and nuisance
You learnt to endure
year after year
and even take to bed
each night?
Or is it a part of your body now
Entangled with your fibrous mesh
Swallowing your plasma
Your bones and flesh
So much so,
you no longer know
who's who?
You don't have to answer yet.
But the question made you
pause.
Let you and me linger awhile
in the space of this
sacred second.
In this detached velvet of time
that sadness cannot
claw or tease.
Let's give this moment a name.
Shall we call it peace?
About the Author
Ananya Chatterjee loves reading and writing poetry and spends every spare moment doing just that.
Thursday, 13th March, 2025
I pop the cork
exploding from within
joy bubbles out
withered plants
covered in new year’s snow
possibilities
stepping
through the mist
I meet myself
About the Author
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared internationally in a wide variety of journals, two of her poems have won international contests and one was recently turned into a choral piece for a concert. Jennifer’s first book of poetry, My Eyes Adjusting, was published in 2024. Her second book, Liquid Sky, will be out early this year. To-date, nearly 1,400 of her poems have been published in just over two years.
Wednesday, 12th March 2025
Nullity
By Sunil Kaushal
Nothingness nibbles on what's left of me
night closing in faster
than the years
I've waded through somehow
swinging the baton
for orchestras
in other people's dramas.
The honey of my eyes
no longer languishes,
not that it's dried,
reciprocity smells of hemlock
the taste of that goblet lingers on my lips turning blue.
Hurrying down dust laden roads
I gather the hem of my newly laundered dress
rid of all stains rusty or dusty
fearful that the void of nullity
catching up fast
will quaff me in a mouthful.
If the road bends
I will have reached home.
About the Author
Dr Sunil Kaushal, is a gynaecologist, poet, essayist, translator and editor. *Her twice awarded memoir, "Gypsy Wanderings and Random Reflections" won the prestigious Nissim International Award for Non-Fiction, along with Golden Book Award. She was awarded the Women Achiever’s Award 2019, besides several others. She has been translated into French, Greek, German, Punjabi, and Chinese. Always in love with life keeps her vibrant at eighty, reflecting in her life and writings.
Tuesday, 11th March, 2025
first rains —
the green scent
of renewal
zen garden
turning the prayer wheel
I purify my karma
receding tide --
I give the relationship
another chance
About the Author
Mona Bedi is a medical doctor in Delhi, India. She has been writing poetry since childhood but a few years back she started writing the Japanese form.. haiku. She has authored two poetry books published by the name of 'they you and me' and 'dancing moonlight.' She received the Grand Prize in the 3rd Morioka Haiku Festival, 2021 and four haiku of merit in the World Haiku Review 2021/2022 alongwith an honourable mention at the Japan Fair 2021. Her haiku, tanka haibun and Haiga has been published in various journals of repute like Presence, Modern haiku, Haiku dialogue, Haiku in Action, Triveni haikuKatha, Drifting sands, Failed haiku, Stardust, among others.
Monday, 10th March, 2025
Whispers of the Sky
By Harsimranjeet Kaur
The wind hums secrets only I can hear,
A call to the heavens, crisp and clear.
With wings of will and a heart of fire,
I rise to meet the sky’s desire.
Each take-off births a brand-new tale,
Through shifting winds and fleeting trails.
No landing mirrors the one before,
Each a lesson, a gift, and more.
From Leh’s proud peaks wrapped in frost,
To Andaman waves where time feels lost.
From western sands to Vijayanagar’s green,
I traverse realms few have seen.
Mountains bow as I carve the air,
Oceans ripple beneath my stare.
Every view, a canvas vast,
Moments fleeting, yet built to last.
This is no journey of flight alone,
But a symphony of duty, my soul’s tone.
As a woman of strength in skies unbound,
I claim my place where courage is found.
The blue is endless, my spirit too,
Bound by purpose, loyal, true.
For in this dance with the clouds above,
I find my mission, my purpose, my love.
About the Author
Sqn Ldr Harsimranjeet Kaur is a proud military aviator with over nine years of dedicated service to the nation. She lives by the motto “Service Before Self.” With a degree in engineering, she combines technical expertise with a passion for transformative change. Beyond the cockpit, she is an avid writer and traveler, finding inspiration in the skies she traverses and the stories she uncovers.
Friday, 7th March, 2025
Hope
By Balesh Jindal
When the deadly, damned dust
Settles in nasty, naked corners.
When the trough of tears
Dry up on their way to a cry.
I open my chafing mouth to smile at
Solitary strangers, more lonely than I.
When I felt a choke and a gag,
When the seething world seemed to
Sink swiftly beneath sodden feet,
It is when the purple clouds come
Agonizing and angered,
Decadent in derision.
This is when I looked out at the sea,
With not any hope.
Sobbing, searching, scanning the horizon.
I will not sink,
I shall not sink
Holding on to little wimpy, wispy
Creepers of hope,
Standing tall I waited,
Hoping for A New Beginning
About the Author
Balesh Jindal is a graduate of Lady Hardinge Medical College and has a medical practice for forty years. She wanted to study in London to become a paediatrician, yet found herself practicing in a remote village. She loves writing & reading poetry in her spare time
About the Author
Hifsa Ashraf is an award-winning multilingual poet, author, editor, and social activist from Rawalpindi, Pakistan. She is a pioneer in her country for writing modern Japanese style micropoetry in English. Her work has been widely published in international journals, newspapers, magazines, blogs and anthologies. She is the author of six individual and three collaborative micropoetry books. Please follow her on social media at @hifsays.
Wednesday, 5th March, 2025
Perpetual Autumn
By Parminder Singh
The maples should have shed their amber crown,
December winds should strip the branches bare,
Yet still these leaves refuse to settle down—
Like memories that linger in the air.
The calendar insists the season's passed,
But something in me keeps October here:
Each morning wears the colors of the last,
The twilight holds its golden atmosphere.
My neighbors' gardens turn to winter's rest,
While in my yard, the autumn light remains,
Like some perpetual and welcome guest
That builds its home in November's domains.
The world may rush toward spring's relentless birth,
While autumn's embers smolder in my earth.
About the Author
Parminder Singh is an IT Professional-turned-educator, and has overall experience of over two decades in the fields of software development, project management, digitization and teaching. He currently works as Assistant Professor of English at Dev Samaj College for Women, Chandigarh. He specializes in Cultural Studies and Digital Humanities. He is a multilingual poet, translator, short-story writer, and has national and international publications. He has been a key contributor in setting up Panjab Digital Library. He has received Jathedar G. S. Tohra Award for his Punjabi translation of P. S. Sachdeva’s Appreciating Sikhism and has co-translated Sudeep Sen’s poetry into Punjabi titled Gau-Dhoorh Vela.
Tuesday, 4th March, 2025
perfectly useless
a leaf falls
on a sunny day
stars on a string
a child in heaven
flying kites
rain shower
a ballerina
on roller skates
About the Author
Robert Witmer has resided in Japan for the past 45 years. Now an emeritus professor, he has had the opportunity to teach courses in poetry and creative writing not only at his home university in Tokyo but also in India. His poems and prose poetry have appeared in many print and online journals and books. His first book of poetry, a collection of haiku titled Finding a Way, was published in 2016. A second book of poetry, titled Serendipity, was published in 2023. An author’s page for Robert Witmer can be found at both the Poets & Writers and AuthorsDen websites.
Monday, 3rd March, 2025
Metamorphosis
By Concetta Pipia
In the mirror’s gaze, a face half-known,
Shifts like shadows cast by candle’s flame.
Eyes, once anchors, drift in seas alone,
Lips whisper secrets, mouthing my name.
Flesh dissolves to vapor, bone to mist,
A chrysalis of thought, I am unmade.
Time’s cruel needle weaves its endless twist,
Stitching seams where old and new cascade.
From ashes of the past, I rise, reborn,
A phoenix forged in fires of forlorn.
About the Author
Concetta Pipia was born and raised in New York City and is a published poet and writer of verse and prose. Her poetry appears in National and International anthologies and literary magazines. Ms. Pipia is a member of the Editorial Board of "Different Truths" as well as a member of Writers Capital International.
Thursday, 27th February, 2025
A Risky Journey
By Edison A Ferreira
Sometimes I visit the past, long ago, perilous
and suspicious a world.
The road I take has been built entirely by me,
in very hard a way no one at least dreams of.
Rough a path and full of so many deviations,
that even I, well used to, go so timorous.
Now, it is clear there were no other choices,
for only this way would lead me where I am.
Where and what I must be ever since I was.
On this visit, I see friends, lovers, enemies,
grandfathers and cousins, see also myself.
Then, undoubtedly alive, they talk to me,
ask for news and soon we are laughing,
like old comrades who were absent for so long.
On leaving, one or other intends to follow me,
but I go home alone.
I suspect that the past is jealous of its deeds
and hides from us how it has weaved them.
I think we must go there so few times
we are capable of.
About the Author
Mr. Ferreira, 81 years old, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese. Has launched two Poetry Collections, entitled “Lonely Sailor” and “Joie de Vivre”; has 200 poems published in 300 different publications, in selected international Literary Journals. Has, also, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He began writing at the age of 67 after he retired from a bank. He is always updating his works at www.edilsonmeloferreira.com.
Wednesday, 26th February, 2025
Snowy Day Poem
By Kavita Ezekiel
When the snow is on the ground
And the silence makes no sound
From earth to heaven all is white
From faraway the sun shines bright
All the birds seem to have flown
To a place they call their home
They will return when the snow has gone
Once more to sing their sweet sweet songs.
But wait I see a magpie hopping
From every branch the snow is dropping
Blue and white feathers against the light
I bet 'twill be a quiet night.
Some more snow fell all last night
He shoveled the sidewalk with all his might
A lone squirrel scampering on the high line
Like a tightrope walker balancing fine
No birds today, some sun, grey clouds
White trees praying with their heads bowed
Blessed to have nowhere to go
Will read and write and take things slow
But wait there's laundry and plenty of dishes
No Fairy Godmother to grant my wishes!
Don't know what tomorrow will bring
Be gone winter, come quickly Spring.
Poet's Note: I live in a part of Canada which experiences five long months of winter. Many of my poems describe the landscape and the sights and sounds of this season. Some of the poems are rhyming in nature and use humor as a means to cope with the silence.
Tuesday, 25th February, 2025
morning lookout
waiting for the red fox
coyote appears
sticky fingers
of love
pry open my heart
following the rainbow
we share
the pot of gold
About the Author
Belinda Behne grew up in the midwest, but she has spent most of her adult life in the vibrant culture of New York City. Her first career, as a teacher of special education, led her to the love of art, literature and theatre. She has pursued her passions of acting, writing poetry and performing professional voice-overs for more than three decades. She currently enjoys living on the edge of a salt marsh, where life continues to inspire her in new ways. Her poetry can be found in LEAF Journal, The Wise Owl, Scarlet Dragonfly, and Cold Moon Journal.
Monday, 24th February, 2025
January Winter
By Sushant Thapa
Wintering is an art.
When the winter sun
kisses the earth
its light parda seeks
an embrace.
Memories are trust
that seeks the warmth.
The mirror lake
freezes,
yet, I play with
the candleof my frosted memories.
You shape up
and form a soul
that seeks my sight,
I carry your heart
and hear all the anticipations
to embrace the forgotten book
of wintry recollections.
January winter is a memory book.
The snow falls
from the apple tree,
I cherish the fireplace
and its nostalgia.
I fondly remember you
peeling layers of winter
from my heart.
Now, you are a frozen lake -
a mirror that I carry
in my soul.
About the Author
Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet. He has published seven book of English Poems and his latest book is titled "Finding My Soul in Kathmandu" published by Ukiyoto Publishing. Sushant holds an MA in English Literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. He teaches English Language and Literature to University level students in Biratnagar, Nepal. He is widely published in print, online and school book.
Friday, 21st February, 2025
Bottled Love
By Ketaki Mazumdar
Autumn shivers.
I remember Indian Summers and
Grandma preparing jars of mangoe pickles,
raw, firm, drenched with sun,
that I helped pluck.
Mangoes bite sized, doused with home fiery ground masalas.
Shaken firmly,
Mixed with oil...
Spooned into jars...
Many hot noons of watching and waiting and drooling...
On hot roof tops..
Memories,
I carried across oceans,
Across seasons...
Precious stock of
Enticement.
Every bite a delight...
As falling leaves drifted across glazed windows,
As high rises, with powdered snow, stared at me,
The warmth of my grandma's love, Overwhelmed the corners of my heart.
Her hand knitted red and orange cosy scarf,
Her green and red, floating in oil... Mangoe pickle,
My sustenance.
Delighted my Autumn heart!
Thursday, 20th February, 2025
Poems
By Alison Nuorto
Aubade
As he kissed her sleeping form,
His hair fanned her face like a bouquet of feathers.
She awoke to the bitter scent of loss.
Like crushed blooms in Autumn.
White Lines
Let me slip into you.
Into your spaces.
Where our lines blur and meld,
And I can no longer be mapped or traced.
Seawater
I’m a husk;
All lashed kernel and hollowed hubris.
Hewn from the withering vine.
But plunge me in seawater and I’ll shine,
like the newly presented babe; birthed from the core.
Propelled to Galilee,
my shedding will lead to salvage.
Wednesday, 19th February 2025
Lace
By Deborah A Bennett
i am holding the lace
my grandmother tatted
a hundred years ago
i am the keeper of
the yellowed thread
she carried north
from mississippi
running from mississippi
ojibwa for "big river"
for how wide the water was
between containment and freedom
for how wide the world
between horror and beauty
i am touching the lace
my grandmother touched
thinking about what it was
to be starved and sustained
by knots and loops
by curves and stitches
by row on row of
snow-shaped rings
that held all the pieces
together
About the Author
Steliana Cristina Voicu lives in Ploieşti, Romania and loves painting, poetry, Japanese culture, photography and astronomy. Her haiku, tanka, haiga, poetry, short-prose have been published worldwide, including Asahi Haikuist Network, Daily Haiga, The Wise Owl-The Daily Verse, Under the Bashō, Chrysanthemum and others. She is founder and editor of Enchanted Garden Haiku Journal-Romania.
Monday, 17th February, 2025
The Last Time
By Shivshankar Menon
The last time Grandmother addressed
Me was from her favourite
Morning seat by the window, her book
Of devotions open at one
Sunlit page unread. She spoke slowly,
Holding my hand, of the old
Family home, of ancient scandals and
Feuds, squabbles and partitions
While I listened, watching her faraway eyes
And marvelling at the rich flow
Of family lore. Only a year later did that tide
Of nonagenarian reminiscence
Take on new meaning when, coming home
I ran down to her room and
Found her sitting in the same old chair with
The same old book open on her lap.
Now too the pages remained unturned but
Her hands rested on them inert ;
When I approached she looked up slowly
And stared at me blankly
Clearly with no notion of who I was, before
Turning wordlessly away
Friday, 14th February, 2025
Icicles of Yore
By Santosh Bakaya
I glimpse a silver-hued expanse and watch entranced.
Snowflakes dance and prance, exhilarated.Within my heart, a silence resounds, but is soon replaced
by faint stirrings of nostalgia.
My soul is ablaze
in the warmth of those memories buried under frost.No longer do I feel lost as the frost melts,
pelting me with silver pebbles of juvenilia.
“We need to shovel the snow.”
I hear Papa’s baritone and see Mom
standing on the patio with two mugs of kehwa.“First have the kehwa, then shovel it!”
The snowman peers wearing Papa’s glasses.
My kid brother hurls a ball of snow at me.
“Hey, Mister, how dare you throw things at your elder sister? “
I yell a full-throated yell. He goes pell-mell
guffawing a guffaw, laced with frost.
Ice clinks in my glass.
Memory chunks tarry a bit- then pass.
Icicles of various sizes full of pleasant surprises.
Is that my kid bro in boxing gloves turning blue in rage?
The cranky fellow oft displayed his versatility in crazy pranks.
I chuckle at a secret thought.
What if a resurrected Picasso adds my bro’s blue nose
to his repertoire of the Blue Period,
with an added embellishment -a red rose
stuck to the lapel of his hand –me- down black coat,
about which he was always complaining?
While travelling in the train once,
the poor fellow had been mistaken for a ticket collector,
clad in a coat two sizes bigger for his lanky figure!
Thankfully that memory chunk lies buried under frost.
But my soul is ablaze in the warmth of those frosted memories.
About the Author
Santosh Bakaya is an award winning poet, novelist, biographer, TEDx Speaker, acclaimed for poetic biography, Ballad of Bapu, Dr. Santosh Bakaya’ has authored twenty- three books encompassing multiple genres. Reuel International Awardee [Poetry, 2014], Setu International Awardee for ‘stellar contribution to world literature’, 2018 [Pittsburgh, USA], WE EUNICE DE SOUZA [WE Literary Community, 2023], for ‘rich and diverse contribution to Poetry, literature and Learning’, she runs a column, Morning Meanderings [Learning and Creativity. Com]. Her recently published works are What is the Meter of the Dictionary? The Catnaman [With Dr. Sunil Sharma] & For Better or Verse [With Ramendra Kumar and Dr. Ampat Koshy].
Thursday, 13th February, 2025
bags of mulch
stacked around
the house
this grief
still too heavy
to unload
like James Earl Jones
a deep booming voice
in my head says
the sparrows have chosen!
it is your tree they will nest in
through the winter
a tick burrowing
under my skin
a tiny insult
that turns out
was a bullseye
all along
About the Author
Susan Burch began writing tanka poetry in April 2013. Then haiku, senryu, haibun, gembun, tanka prose, sedoka, sedoka prose, and cherita. When she writes, she lets the poem be what wants it to be. All the poems in this book wanted to be cherita, and were kept together on purpose, as a collection. None of them were previously published. Susan was the Vice President of The Tanka Society of America from 2017- 2024. She was also the Editor of Haiku in Action from 2023-2024. Susan resides in Hagerstown, Maryland, USA, with her amazing husband, Sexy Beast, and daughter, British Baby. She enjoys reading, doing puzzles, birding, and watching Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team.
Wednesday, 12th February 2025
Frosted memories
By Tamali Neogi
Depending on the curve of our disposition,
we remember either the saddest or the happiest,
memory of our past,
psychologists say so, but is there any rule, fixed or not?
At times the weird behaviour of memory puzzles a lot,
otherwise who is such a fool to look back,
for the burden of past mistakes and errors is enough
to sink us in the coldest ocean of compunction.
Don't know why on a sunny morning when
angels go swimming on the glassy water of Manas lake,
alluring gateway to heaven,
when my mind, piercing it open,
out of the age old blanket of misery,
just started enjoying the drama of
dream happenings,
when life around seems to be the most beautiful thing,
why then the light falls on the cloudy gemstones,
childhood pain, adolescent aberration, sins of youth?
No. It's not as painful now as before.
Perhaps under pressure they are converted
into agate stones,
and see how it splits,
when the ray of conscious understanding
passes through them,
the seven colours of rainbow,
bring into prominence multiple
subconscious understandings;
inviting changes of perspectives!
Won't shun again, reflections on the past,
for depending on our disposition,
fossil like under the layers of alluvial soils
or gem like in cavities in igneous rocks,
like me, my soft hearted friends,
or the unfeeling demons,
may too discover their frosted memories.
Tuesday, 11th Feb, 2025
frosted windows
every morning star
a reminder of you
a snowdrift morning
we turn inward
finding ourselves
in a world
of glimmering silver
gone but not forgotten
ice spirals folded
into sunrise
About the Author
Joanna Ashwell is a short form poet (from the UK) who writes Haiku, Tanka, Haibun, Cherita and other related forms. She has published four collections of poetry. Between Moonlight a collection of haiku was published by Hub Editions in 2006. Her tanka collection ‘Every Star’ was published by KDP on Amazon in 2023. Her Cherita collection ‘River Lanterns’ was published by 1-2-3 Press on Amazon in 2023. She currently serves on the selection team for the Canadian Tanka Journal GUSTS.
Monday, 10th February, 2025
Live...Pause
By Vidya Hariharan
a lump on my slender neck
ear nose throat ENT
specialist scribbles other
acronyms with a stylus
emanating professional
stance in a white room
with a partition behind
a high faux-leather bed
with wheels on which I
hunch, Rodin! While
the nurse calls out
the next suppliant’s no.
About the Author
Vidya Hariharan lives and works as a lecturer in a suburban college in Mumbai, India. Vidya's poems, haiku, haibun, senryu and prose narratives can be found in Setu, Contemporary Haibun Online, Pan Haiku Review, Under the Basho, Borderless, Poems India, Glomag, among others.
About the Author
Radha Chakravarty is a widely published writer, critic and translator. Subliminal: Poems is her recent collection of poetry. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She contributed to Pandemic: A Worldwide Community Poem (Muse Pie Press, USA), nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020.
Thursday, 6th February, 2025
pierced heart
on a window pane
dusting day
cradled faith
a prayer awaits
the pole star
Why, child, do you
step into my aura,
only to vanish?
reality
taking shape
in conjured worlds
About the Author
Kavita Ratna is a children's rights activist, poet and a theatre enthusiast. Sea Glass is her anthology of poems published by Red River. Her poems have appeared in The Kali Project: Invoking the Goddess within, A little book of serendipity, Muse India, The Wise Owl, Triveni Hakai India, Haiku in Action, the Scarlet Dragonfly, the Cold Moon Journal, Five Fleas Itchy poetry, the Haiku Dialogue, Stardust Haiku, Leaf (Journal of The Daily Haiku), and many others. She was on the Haiku panel at the Glass House Poetry Festival, Bangalore, 2024. She is also a Pushcart Prize nominee, 2024.
Wednesday, 5th February, 2025
Twilight Hours
By Geeta Varma
They stay,
The early ones,
Like old photographs
On a fading wall,
Of-
Sweaters, red and brown
hanging on a clothesline,
waiting for the school bus
in the cold,
sister in a white petticoat
refusing to sit
on a cold metal chair,
a soft white flower falling
and I, picking up
as we, father and I, walk
one dark evening,
waiting for a peacock feather
in my notebook
to germinate,
grandma’s echoing voice
in the old courtyard
of her ancient house,
our running in the rain,
our new-born baby
packed, full of wonder,
ready to be cuddled….
So much, so many
Frozen in time
In the twilight hours
Of my life!
About the Author
Geeta Varma is a poet based in Chennai. She has worked as a teacher and freelance journalist for some time. She has to her credit two books of poems and is a regular contributor to a few online magazines. She lives in Neelankarai with her husband Shreekumar Varma and has two sons, Vinayak married to Yamini, and Karthik.
Tuesday, 4th February, 2025
fallen leaves -
all the words
I didn't say
lockdown -
wall of silence
unveils the stars
cicadas...
the empty shell
of my womb
About the Author
Giuliana Ravaglia was born in the province of Bologna (Italy), is a former primary school teacher and has a great love for poetry, especially haiku. His poems have been published on websites and online magazines: Otata, Troutswirl, ESUJ-H, Asahi Haikuist Network, The Mainichi, Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Haikuuniverse, Cold Moon Journal, Akita International Haiku Network, The Bamboo Hut, Take 5ive, Haiku Corner, Memoirs of a Geisha, HaikuNetra, Haiku World, Failed Haiku among others. he received Honorable mention in Haiku EuroTop 100.
Monday, 3rd February, 2025
Everlasting Memories
By Sreelekha Chatterjee
Memories hang like verglases
from the rock-solid ceiling of my mind.
With the warmth of my remembrance,
they melt, pouring out, come alive.
Moments turn into memories
I do not know when.
One leads to another,
clustering as though a bunch of grapes
from the soul of my existence,
belonging to a common memoir clade.
Memories frosted for life
bloom as delightful flowers—
imperishable like the fragrance
of my being without which I feel disempowered.
Refreshing as the roseate air of dawn’s
illuminating grace,
anamneses come forth,
seem to ebb and flow—
vanish and reappear.
Reminiscent of the frosted icing on the cake,
I relish them, venerate their lived experiences—
some of memorized tears, others of recollected laughter;
their beauty embraces with passionate wings.
Akin to the snow that amasses—wise and bright—
memories remain sealed,
my heart endowed with gratitude chimes.
About the Author
Sreelekha Chatterjee is a poet from New Delhi, India. Her poems have appeared in Madras Courier, Setu, Raw Lit, Verse-Virtual, The Wise Owl, Pena Literary Magazine, Ghudsavar Literary Magazine, Orenaug Mountain Poetry Journal, Poetry Catalog, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, Creative Flight, Medusa’s Kitchen, Everscribe Magazine, and in the anthologies—Light & Dark (Bitterleaf Books, UK), The Harvest & the Reaping, Winter Glimmerings, and Whose Spirits Touch (Orenaug Mountain Publishing, USA), and Christmas-Winter Anthology Volume 4 (Black Bough Poetry, Wales, UK).
Friday, 31st January, 2025
Patterns
By Avantika Singh
As frosty winds blow,
Icy patterns of frost on windshields grow
From trees to intricate leaves
Beauteous patterns, the ice weaves.
My warm breath I see escape,
In the cold air in a shape
Like a small, puffed-up cloud—
Patterns I see where none did abound.
As frosty winds blow,
The homeless shiver slow
On the roads, they lie
Besides small fires under the open sky.
Sometimes on a gurdwara’s steps
At other times under the flyovers complex
They find shelter from the cold
Bundled under quilts tattered and old.
But the world works in its own fashion,
As unknown hands reach out in compassion
Distributing blankets to the destitute
Covering them with love resolute.
As frosty winds blow
The patterns of compassion show,
Embracing the cold on footpaths and pavements
In steaming cups of tea and other arrangements.
As frosty winds blow,
The dogs lie snuggled low
On small hillocks of dug-out earth
For that warmth is their hearth.
As a compassionate soul passes by
Jackets and food they supply.
In this world, as we pass by
In patterns of compassion, let us tie
About the Author
Avantika Vijay Singh is a communications professional, wearing the hats of a writer, editor, poet, researcher, and amateur photographer. She has authored two solo anthologies, edited three anthologies, and has been published in national and international journals. She received the Nissim International Award Runner Up 2023, WE Gifted Poet 2024, and WE Illumination Award 2024.
Thursday, 30th January, 2025
Frozen Memories
By Fatma Zohra Habis
memories frozen
alone I review
old movie
a cold spark
from frozen distant echoes
I reach for it's warmth
novel on the shelf
time folds its pages~
memories frozen
Thursday, 30th January, 2025
Poems
By Vijay Prasad
winter dusk –
her eyes weep
fog
inside the winter wind my last breath
cold moon –
not a speck
of mind
snowfall . . .
her one-sided
hesitancy
Wednesday, 29th January, 2025
Farewell
By Shivshankar Menon
I will break my ships down now
To pieces of floating driftwood
And cast them out upon the sea to
Journey where they will. For I
Don’t want to point them any longer
To my own purposes, nor chain
Them to indefinite waiting at anchor.
Let them find at last their own
Favoured waves and shape their own
Voyages. Let them follow their
Preferred siren voices and challenge
Shipwreck on rocks of their secret
Desiring. And shorebound I shall perhaps
Watch them for a while, shading my eyes
From sunset-daggered waves and spray
Until sky and sea embrace in darkness
And my ships, whole once more, return
On the green tides of dreams
About the Author
Shivshankar Menon served for many years on the History faculty of St Stephen's College, Delhi. Currently he lives in his hometown Thiruvananthapuram in Kerala and devotes himself to the study of Russian language and literature. His work has appeared in the online journals Muse India, Gulmohur Quarterly, induswomanwriting, and Poems India.
About the Author
Monday, 27th January, 2025
The Frozen Memories
By Toolika Rani
Under the umbrella of time
We feign ourselves protected
From the snowflakes falling around
Our footprints getting buried
In the seamless snow-filled ground,
And forward we march in an arrogant ignorance
Creating a crunching sound,
Until time plays a trick again-
Unearthing the frozen memories
Unleashing astonishing discoveries
Revealing, seventy-five years on,
the enigmatic Mellory
And,
Throwing Irvin’s shoe up right after a century.
Who knows what else the snow covered up!
When it melts, the clock may turn backwards!
About the Author
Squadron Leader (Dr) Toolika Rani is an ex-Indian Air Force Officer, Mountaineer (Everest Climber), International Motivational Speaker (TEDx), Author, Poet, Assistant Professor of History, and was also the G-20 Brand Ambassador of Higher Education Department, U.P. Government (2023). Her books include Beyond That Wall: Redemption on Everest (2021), Sherpas of Solukhumbu: History and Evolution (2023), two collections of Hindi poems titled, Dayron ke Bahar (2023) and Hasratein (2024), two collections of English poems titled, The Song of the Sky (2024) and A Wild Flower (2024). In addition, she has edited an International Anthology of poems on Himalaya, titled, The Mountain was Abuzz, which was displayed at the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival in 2024. She is the co-author of the book, ‘Healing and Growth: Inspiring Stories for Massive Transformation’ published from the USA.
Friday, 24th January, 2025
Anniversary
By Sanjeev Sethi
As you hide in the halo of unsung harmonies,
my tunes wallow in the vernix of unborn lyrics.
How much ever one may circumvent, run on
uncommon routes, marks from memory inter-
crosses like tired stamps or exhausted songs.
When it is too late to remedy or recast, the
answer is acceptance. With tottery stiles, one
bends towards the balustrade. Barreled, everyone
is a dead ringer. Secure in syllogisms, Cassandras
in my canton straggle me as I baste a safeguard.
About the Author
Sanjeev Sethi has authored eight books of poetry. Legato Without a Lisp is his latest (CLASSIX, an imprint of Hawakal, New Delhi, September 2024). His poetry has been published in over thirty-five countries and has appeared in more than 500 journals, anthologies, and online literary venues. He edited Dreich Planet # 1 India, an anthology for Hybriddreich, Scotland, in December 2022. He is the joint winner of the Full Fat Collection Competition-Deux, organized by Hedgehog Poetry Press, UK. Sethi is in the top 10 of the erbacce-prize 2021. He is the recipient of the Ethos Literary Award 2022. In 2023, he won the First Prize in a Poetry Competition by the National Defence Academy, Pune. He was conferred the 2023 Setu Award for Excellence. He lives in Mumbai, India.
Thursday, 23rd January, 2025
Tanka
By Jahnavi Gogoi
misshapen bow
floating in the air like wishes
tufts of cotton rehomed again
in an old razai
my mother’s compromises
foggy morning
grandma’s prayer song
offers a glimmer of solace
the marigolds orbit the quivering
flame of an earthen lamp
old photograph
father in a field of verbena
cradling an infant with my smile
the northern sky witnesses
our final meeting
Poet's Note: The misshapen bow refers to the instrument used by the quilt makers of India.
Razai: A quilt .
About the Author
Wednesday, 22nd January, 2025
Fire and Ice
By Sunil Kaushal
Speaking of bygone eras-
Today, matchbox homes have burnt the fireplace
when North winds tease tinkling icicles off naked branches
when single file footsteps in circles reach homelessness,
diaphanous snowflakes frost
breath in and out of lungs, seeking a roof
warm fingers, toes and a bowl of broth!
When peals of bells slice heavy silence, hibernation stirs,
Santa’s landing on my rooftop, I feel.
When indigo twinkles on blanketed pristine white,
my ancestral home rooms stay warm all night
not as a hangover of the colonial culture or rule
but the hearth being the heart of this home,
fires are lit, wood chips and shavings kindle kindling
logs hiss and sizzle, chimneys smoke
yellow, orange flames lick the flue aglow
tongs and poker standing by ready to stoke.
Young and old gather, beholden togetherness.
Overcoats, mufflers, mittens and caps shrugged off
guffaws and giggles, veins and cheeks aflush
peals and squeals break the night’s gelid hush
everyone baubles the Christmas tree a little. A tall teen
fixes the Star of Bethlehem on the peak.
Good cheer casts a presence, rum and eggnog, add on
peanuts, pistachio shells perk up dancing flames.
Red- green themed cover and candles, buoy
laden tables with our favourite fare
love and laughter ginger the air.
The grandfather clock nudges, time in bed to be tumbling
new logs on dying embers warm the home now slumbering.
Snuggled and hugged cherubic cheeks turn rose gold
cradled in granny’s gossamer shawl’s lacy folds.
Sated and sleepy we’re ready to say goodnight
to the sound of carols “…..all is calm, all is bright!”
About the Author
About the Author
Vijay Prasad is a poet from Patna, India. He is disappointingly interested in life. He has a passion for haiku, language, philosophy, and so on ... He is published in Bones, Under the Basho, tinywords, Failed Haiku, The Mumba Journal, Haiku Dialogue, Prune Juice, among others.
Monday, 20th January, 2025
Calcutta Winters
By Haimanti Dutta Ray
It seems last year, but
Eons of years have lapsed
Since me holding hands with eyes shut
Inside the Zoo; childhood, dashed
Amid pages of an album, suddenly erupt
Woolens, out with mothballs, washed
Worn with love – pristine, not corrupt
Forgotten time that ran and clashed
With the clocks, the hour hands did disrupt.
Movements – seasonal and personal – smashed
The liquid frozen time, that came up – a memory abrupt
Winter outings, in the brilliant sun, abashed
The cozy pictures within phosphorescent memories, cupped
Calcutta winters are solidified warmth, molten n’ cached
We revel in them, until they swirl in our gut.
About the Author
Haimanti Dutta Ray is a Kolkata-based poet whose poetry collection 'Yesterday in Tomorrow' has been released recently.
Friday, 17th January, 2025
Hot coffee with a view of a snow covered parking lot
By Biswajit Mishra
A well-earned latte,
after an unusual walk by snowy streets-
some sidewalks still have uncleared icy patches
but the sunny afternoon
enticed me to come out-
two large dumping of snow
may have brought my bar lower
and another deviation I make
stopping by for a coffee at Starbucks
where a light music is on-
Christmassy ambiance
and I sit with my coffee
looking out at the unused patio
just outside my window
where two chairs sit
on which snow is still hanging on,
a few vehicles are strewn about
with the detached tractor of a semi
in the parking lot beyond
which is fully covered with snow
metamorphosed into a brownish hue
traded on, driven on-
could have been sands
that kids had wrangled on at a beach
giving the lot a forlorn look-
a scene out of an apocalypse movie.
All seemed to be attuned to the pace
of a November afternoon
that I enjoy with a calmness
at the turnstile
where both autumn and winter
face each other in a stand-off, each scheming
to get a jump on the other.
About the Author
Mona Bedi is a medical doctor in Delhi, India. She has been writing poetry since childhood but a few years back she started writing the Japanese form.. haiku. She has authored two poetry books published by the name of 'they you and me' and 'dancing moonlight.' She received the Grand Prize in the 3rd Morioka Haiku Festival, 2021 and four haiku of merit in the World Haiku Review 2021/2022 alongwith an honourable mention at the Japan Fair 2021. Her haiku, tanka haibun and Haiga has been published in various journals of repute like Presence, Modern haiku, Haiku dialogue, Haiku in Action, Triveni haikuKatha, Drifting sands, Failed haiku, Stardust, among others.
Wednesday, 15th January, 2025
Hymn for Fallen Soldiers
By Michael R. Burch
Sound the awesome cannons.
Pin medals to each breast.
Attention, honor guard!
Give them a hero’s rest.
Recite their names to the heavens
Till the stars acknowledge their kin.
Then let the land they defended
Gather them in again.
Poet's Note: When I learned there’s an American military organization, the DPAA (Defense/POW/MIA Accounting Agency) that is still finding and bringing home the bodies of soldiers who died serving their country in World War II, after blubbering like a baby, I managed to eke out this poem.
Tuesday, 14th January, 2025
teardrops
of burning memories
all evaporate
only to return back
as rain-soaked grief
melting snow into blades of grass
frozen differences an adjective of the past
still breathing the scribbles deep beneath the frosty time
tea flowers grandmother’s kyusu brewed with joy
About the Author
Pravat Kumar Padhy is a mainstream poet and a writer of Japanese short forms of poetry (haiku, tanka, haiga, haibun, tanka prose). His poem 'How Beautiful' is included in the undergraduate curriculum at the university level. Pravat’s haiku won The Kloštar Ivanić International Haiku Award, Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Invitational Award, IAFOR Vladimir Devidé Haiku Award, Setouchi Matsuyama Photo Haiku Award and others. His haiku are published in many international journals and anthologies including in Red Moon Anthology. Haiku are featured at 'Haiku Wall', Historic Liberty Theatre Gallery in Bend, Oregon and at Mann Library, Cornell University. USA. His publications can be read at http://pkpadhy.blogspot.com
Monday, 13th January, 2025
Mummified
By Lily Swarn
I let the chill mummify my dreams
With the stubbornness of snow
Hardening into blocks of stony ice
Sabre toothed icicles swoop down
From frozen cliffs of sepia memories
Lampooning slopes of shrouded Dalhousie
Rambler roses died bruised deaths
With whiffs of perfumed nostalgia
Beside carrot nosed comic snowmen
I let the frost gnaw into my innards
With nightmares of wild Yeti forms
Riding Tibetan yaks ,wool blinded
About the Author
Lily Swarn won the Reuel International Prize for Poetry 2016 and was recognised by the World Union of Poetsas Global Poet of Peace and Universal Love. World Institute Of Peace conferred the title of Global Icon of Peace on her in Nigeria. Lily has been awarded the Virtuoso Award by Philosophique Poetica. She has penned several books and her poetry & prose have been featured in many prestigious literary magazines.
Friday, 10th January, 2025
Forgotten
By Nandita Samanta
I have no memories,
I watch myself from behind an amnesiac mirror
in delirium, touch my body gently,
narcissus returns to me.
Then sleep comes, leaving behind
the foreshadow of an exile.
The forgotten frigid passion
cuddles the setting moon.
That night, you wished to touch me-
that was only the caress,
I couldn’t feel anything after that.
About the Author
Nandita Samanta is a poet, short story writer, reviewer, editor, artist, and translator. She freelances as a parenting and relationship advisor and colour therapist. Her writings, published in three of her compilations, many anthologies, webzines, and journals, are highly appreciated and translated into different languages.
Thursday, 9th January, 2025
New Year dawn
brass candlesticks gleam
a friend's memory
lost birdsong…
the wooden birdhouse
fills with frost
draping the warmth
of an old pashmina...
winter loneliness
About the Author
A Touchstone nominee in the Shortlist for Individual Poems in 2021, Neena is a banker turned poet. Her haikai poetry is regularly published in international journals and magazines. She has published two books of poetry—'Whispers of the Soul: the journey within' and 'One Breath Poetry'. She runs a non-profit for quality interventions in the education and health of underprivileged children in Chandigarh. Neena loves to sit in the garden conversing with squirrels and pigeons.
Wednesday, 8th January, 2025
Cold Yearnings
By Sunil Sharma
Earth and sky fused
into
a vertical of
silver, the dominant
colour with varied
shades splashed around,
dark-grey-bluish
patches
animate the void.
Winter is a silent painter of warm colours, grandpa, a devoted farmer
in Ontario, declares over dinner, during a rare family
reunion, as the fire crackles, and a yellow fog once seen
by T. S. Eliot, settles down, along with the alley cat.
Also, a soft-voiced singer, grandma added with a twinkle
in eyes with failing sight: A female singer working the
fields and yards and humming simultaneously; the wind
scatters those
songs
to the world, on an icy breath.
The children played on the soft sheets rolled out over the grassy grounds, doing somersaults, throwing snow at each other playfully in the flurries; the screaming
kids, during the recess, embraced warmly by a grey-bearded old man with cold
fingers and white brows, while the gentle creatures of God hibernated beneath
the solid sheets, warm in burrows.
The white-outs are getting rare now!
Missing, the desolation of stark beauty and romance of the winters!
Grandpa said with the long sigh of a jilted lover.
We, too, miss out the snowy country, kids complained bitterly to the adults busy
with their gadgets; no longer we see the stoic
Snow-men and their happy families, out in the open, welcoming the freezing
rain and ice, with smiles on snub-nosed faces; reassuring presence, for a lonely
commuter, trudging home, after a late shift
in a cavernous warehouse, full of young immigrants, hoping for bright stars, in
the dark
alien skies!
About the Author
Sunil Sharma is a humble word-worshipper: catcher of elusive sounds, meanings and images. He has published 27 creative and critical books-joint and solo. A winner of, among others, the Panorama Golden Globe Award-2023, and, Nissim Award for Excellence-2022 for the novel Minotaur. His poems were included in the prestigious UN project: Happiness: The Delight-Tree: An Anthology of Contemporary International Poetry, 2015.
Tuesday, 7th January, 2025
Window Sill
Tender flame long waits
on window sill, faint stars fade
as the East lightens
I will puff out the candle flame
and scrape dry wax in the morn
Winter Winds
Kogarashi stirs
Kyoto red leaves shiver
winter winds arise
Kestrel
A wild bird of prey
kestrel hovers overhead
rapacious haiku
About the Author
Victoria Crawford is a poet living in Thailand. She enjoys writing short form poetry, particularly haiku and tanka, about all forms of nature from her pocket-sized garden to hiking in northern Thailand jungles. Her poems have been published in many journals and have followed the natural worlds of all the countries she has lived in.
Monday, 6th January, 2025
Undead
By Radha Chakravarty
drowned moments refuse to die
beneath the frozen surface
of willed forgetting
lies a chill dark lake of guilt
where undead memories lie in wait
at night through sudden cracks
in that smooth, hardened crust
we skim so glibly in the day
dark secrets rise like twisted claws
to clutch our souls
and drag us under
too late
we realize
skating on the thin ice
of falsehood can be
fatal
About the Author
Radha Chakravarty is a widely published writer, critic and translator. Subliminal: Poems is her recent collection of poetry. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She contributed to Pandemic: A Worldwide Community Poem (Muse Pie Press, USA), nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020.
Friday, 3rd January, 2025
Winter's Apprentice
By Peter A Witt
Her breath etches the crisp morning air,
as she twirls circles on the glassy surface, her eyes
a pair of sleighs tracing whispers of gossamer wings,
promises of winter spun in her gaze.
Frost blooms like cobwebs on her fingertips,
each blink scattering powdery stars,
her lashes weave whispers on the wind,
as she catches the shimmer of drifting flakes,
tongue tasting secrets of the cold.
Beyond the lace of glittering hills,
clouds of laughter ripple across the valley.
She hears the swift, sharp cut of blades,
the wind carrying dreams, currently out-of-reach,
but almost ready to touch.
Gliding, she watches, quiet and still,
ice her canvas, hope her guide that
one day she will become an ice dancer
twirling within winter's crystal arms.
About the Author
Thursday, 2nd January, 2025
one after another
poems nascent in my heart
newly born
a poem leaks out
through the threadbare spot
of my newly healing heart
between the margins
a word here, there
before a patch seals it closed
About the Author
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared internationally in a wide variety of journals, two of her poems have won international contests and one was recently turned into a choral piece for a concert. Jennifer’s first book of poetry, My Eyes Adjusting, has recently been published.
Wednesday, 1st January, 2025
The Evergreens sigh
By Ketaki Mazumdar
Forever love in stars
of a cold winter sky
shimmers of nostalgia wrapped in
frosted memories,
trying to survive
the bleakness of aloneness...
the surround sound of life
is painfully muted...
the quilt we shared
is thin, unfluffed, lacks your fragrance,
lacks the warmth of togetherness...
frosted in hibernation
cocooned in me
are pine aromas...
Xmas cakes, mince pies and freshly baked cookies...and our laughter...
colours of oranges,
red apples,white chrysanthemums and poinsettias...
obsessions we shared,
gift wrapped with red, white and green,
angels, stars, fairy lights, music...
sweetness of soaring carols and church bells...
shimmery silver snow flakes...
laughter and kisses we had shared.
Tuesday, 31st December, 2024
Haiku on Winter's Embrace
By Steliana C Voicu
sandalwood notes -
your arms
my Milky Way
Christmas drink -
marshmallows stars blending
with cream drops
winter solstice -
my blanket, your windowsill
and New York cheesecake
Tuesday, 31st December, 2024
Poems on Winter's Embrace
By Snigdha Agrawal
virginal white outside
snow blushes with moonlight's glow-
throwback to wedding night
flock of cranes take flight
wheelchair-bound
clings to his sweater's warmth
frost-kissed silver gleams...
bare branches hold quiet strength
wisdom's winter blooms
Monday, 30th December, 2024
Microcosms
By Supatra Sen
Another year draws to an end
Another cycle done
An intricate collage of moments and memories
With fragments of my being
Each a story
Microcosm…
.
Buried deep
As seeds beneath the earth
To grow anew each spring
Nurtured by time
And dreams
Sprout to rain and sun
And seek beauty in wilderness
The winding path ahead
Still beckons
And so the yarn spins
The web…
Ever and ever more
Life’s countless cycles
Friday, 27th December, 2024
A Romantic Winter
By Joseph Ogbonna
In my cozy room by the calm, gentle
and romantic feel of the fireplace,
I relish greater warmth with Hanna's
delightful presence in the Advent season.
Together we spent a vacation in my
own winter inn, designed specially
as a magnificent winter palace by both
of our worlds subsumed into one.
Where we had our own seasonal
picturesque warmth from the frozen
salt and solid water that adorn the
wintry landscape for a Yuletide's sleigh
ride.
We lit our candles to extend the limited
daylight, reminiscent of a romantic wintry night.
Our small winter palace rendered the much needed shelter in the ice storms
caused by freezing rain. A little distant from our warm and refreshing fireplace is our lavishly
decorated Christmas cedar, which I had hewn down from the
reindeer's freezing habitation, which had become slightly devoid of
plant life sprouting from wintry plains.
In the warmth of our cottage, we enjoyed a romantically created
heaven of some sort,
where we remained to evade the developing
blizzards that typically characterise the exciting season.
Thursday, 26th December, 2024
new year
checking the calendar
for photos to frame
deepening winter
slowly the street lamp
dying
winter sunshine
home office
in the garden
About the Author
Govind Joshi is a mariner and navigates ships around the world for a living. He lives in Dehradun, India and loves nature, gardening, travel and poetry. His Japanese short form poetry has been published in many fine print and online journals including Frogpond, Presence, cattails, chrysanthemum and The Wise Owl.
Wednesday, 25th December, 2024
Orion
By Belinda Behne
Taking out the trash
on an ink black winter night
I hear the stars
they call my name
Look up! they say Look up!
My dear old friend Orion
from childhood winter nights
waves to me
inviting me
to join him in the dance
I burst out laughing
I drop my trash
what can I say but Yes!
His sparkling belt surrounds me
I fly into his arms
we whirl together
thru the heavens
with a trillion dancing stars.
About the Author
Belinda Behne grew up in the midwest, but she has spent most of her adult life in the vibrant culture of New York City. Her first career, as a teacher of special education, led her to the love of art, literature and theatre. She has pursued her passions of acting, writing poetry and performing professional voice-overs for more than three decades. She currently enjoys living on the edge of a salt marsh, where life continues to inspire her in new ways. Her poetry can be found in LEAF Journal, The Wise Owl, Scarlet Dragonfly, and Cold Moon Journal.
Tuesday, 24th December, 2024
releasing
to heaven -
lanterns on the lake
to wake alive
even in this world -
white chrysanthemums
forgiving the body
its brokenness -
prairie storm at dusk
Monday, 23rd December, 2024
Twilight
By Supatra Sen
Time to return
Walk the mist laden paths
Strewn with leaves of fall
In rich hues…
Precious and priceless
I gather them
My autumn leaves
Till I can hold no more…
I have seen it all
Birth and death
Bonds and freedom
Love and loss
And I wish no more
Time to return
To the hearth
From where I had flown
Long long ago
It was then spring…
Soaring higher and beyond
Dreams and more
Summer….
But now the final destination
Or destiny
The home…the hearth
The warm caress of winter
Journey to the very own
The self…
The soul…
About the Author
Dr. Supatra Sen is an Associate Professor And Head, PG Dept of Botany, Asutosh College,Kolkata. She loves reading and writing poetry in her spare time.
THE DAILY VERSE POETS
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Late Summer Storm by Belinda Behne
Haiku on Nostalgia by Marguerite Doyle
A Mom's Note on the Counter by Biswajit Mishra
Poems on Nostalgia by Tuyet van do
When Memories Refuse to Fade Sarojkanta Dash
A Mom's Note on the Counter by Biswajit Mishra
Poems on Nostalgia by Tuyet van do
When Memories Refuse to Fade Sarojkanta Dash
Footfalls through faded Leaves by Monika Ajay Kaul
In Autumn' Hush by Snigdha Agrawal
Haiku & Cherita By Jan Stretch
Autumn's Canvas by Narinderjit Kaur
Haiku on Forgotten Corners by Deborah Bennett
Autumnal Remembrances By Sreelekha Chatterjee
Forgotten Corners by Kavita Ratna
Poems on Forgotten Corners by Mandira Gosh
Charcoal on Slow burn By Sunil Sharma
Forgotten Corners By Vijay Prasad
Poems on Winter's Embrace By Belinda Behne
A Lonely Day By Baijnath Gupta
Scotopia by Frank William Finney
Winter's Embrace By Jerome Berglund
Whispers of the Frost By Lalita Vaitheeswaran
THE DAILY VERSE POETS
Cedars at Dusk by Belinda Behne
Reflections on August by Sreelekha Chatterjee
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Haiku on Pause & Reflect by Pris Campbell
Pause & reflect by Geeta Varma
THE DAILY VERSE POETS
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Morning Solitude by Peter A Witt
Poems on Solitude by Jennifer Gurney
The Colored Umbrella by Dr Mary Annie
Poems on Solitude by Mona Bedi
Micro-Poems on Solitude by Snigdha Agrawal
Micro-Poems by Barbara Anna Gaioraldi
Riding a Unicorn by Petrouchka Alexieva
Midsummer Magic by Jennifer Gurney
Midsummer Magic by Sasha Clark
Poems on Midsummer magic by Jennifer Gurney
Midsummer Musing by Gopal Lahiri
Week 3, May 2024
On the Face of it by Hester L Furey
I Remember Mart Oliver by Oscar Houck
Final Week, May 2024
Music of the Lake by Peter Witt
How do I feed my marriage by Bruce Whitacre
Burst of Colours by Amrita Mallik
Haiku on Colours by Steliana Voicu
Week 2, May 2024
Haiku: On Transformation by Steliana C Voicu
The Sky Over the Ganga by Satbir Chadha
Life is like a box of chocolates by Petrouchka Alexieva Haiku on Colours by Govind Joshi
Light & Shadow by Carolyn Crossly
Haiku on Light & Shadow by Govind Joshi
Towards Mutualism by James Penha
Haiku by Steliana Cristina Voicu
Haiku by Satyanarayana Chittaluri
More Haiku with Titles by Tomh Bakelas
The Summoning by Kathleen Chamberlin
A Visitor by Kathleen Chamberlin
Haiku with Titles by Tomh Bakelas
The Night Sky by Debra S Mascarenhas
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