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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
Theme for December
Winter's Embrace
Winter's Embrace
Monday, 2nd December, 2024
On the Wind
By Suzanne Smythe
Sometimes the wind is my Dad
I don’t know why
It is soft on my face
Sometimes cold and stings
I walk
Squinting in the sun
Or downcast under gray skies
A breeze comes up
A fierce gust comes up
And blows the leaves
I’ll notice it and I’ll say,
Hey Dad
Then the wind whispers back
Across my cheek
About the Author
Suzanne Smythe grew up aside the wild Pacific Coast between the Monterey Peninsula and Big Sur, California. She has written stories and poetry to make sense of the world since she could pick up a pencil more than 60 years ago. She lives in Connecticut and is currently working on a novel for young people. Her attention turns to poetry when the world seems to tumble.
Saturday, 30th November, 2024
The Obliterated Past
The old days beckoned, taking my soul to the yore
I had never felt this bliss when I travelled before
The people laughed in merriment, in gay abandon to show,
Just as the autumn leaves which knew how to let go.
Warmth oozed out of hearts, affection and love gushed to run,
Relationships nurtured and cherished with boundaries none
There were open spaces, and the air fragrant with bloom,
Wide pastures and meadows with a lake that deterred gloom!
The leaves flew, racing with the breeze, as they fell one by one
Yet, they felt contented that they made place for someone!
The old rituals and ceremonies were held in colorful splendor,
Rainbows looked spectacular and dew drops a wonder!
There was plenty of time, to cease and pause and take a look,
There was life celebrated in every corner, in every nook.
Everything has changed, just as leaves are grounded to dwell,
Frozen relationships, as the autumn retreats to bid farewell
Lives have changed to become fierce, unmoved and oblivious,
To those brown leaves of fall which lie to be trodden and trampled
About the Author
Dr.Lalita Vaitheeswaran is a gynecologist by profession and a bilingual writer by passion. She has published 7 books of poetry both in English and Hindi and a book of short stories in English. She has been the editor of 2 anthologies which had more than 50 writers. She has been part of many anthologies across the globe and has won many accolades for her writing ventures.
Friday, 29th November, 2024
He was my grandfather
By Matt Bianca
With a sly smile, you used to come looking for me.
I wasn't at your funeral, but I know you couldn't care less, because we're similar, but not the same.
Strong, few feelings, many sensations.
Believe in power? We're not fools.
You used to run in the veggie yard when something went wrong.
Leaping across generations, I find sanctuary in nostalgia's arms.
I watched you in the yard when I was a child.
A spider entered my mouth; I only noticed it by a leg hanging from my lip.
I got worried; you told me, "it's nothing!" I learned the lesson.
From then on, everything that happened to me, it's nothing.
It has its importance. Now you're safe.
About the Author
Matt Bianca, is an Italian professional who has made China his home for over 20 years. Throughout his multifaceted career, he has established himself as a language lecturer, translator, sound artist, writer, and poet. With an international presence, he has successfully published works across various mediums. His diverse talents and extensive experience contribute to a rich and dynamic professional profile.
Thursday, 28th November, 2024
searching its fourth corner an old room
syllable by syllable the end of a presence
winter wind her absence divided by zero
she still floats through my previous sentences
on her secondary skin imprints of who i am not
Wednesday, 27th November, 2024
Charcoal, on slow burn
By Sunil Sharma
In the right-hand corner, few feet away
from the French window, stacks of
old magazines, along with Dostoevsky, Wittgenstein, Ghalib, paper roses
in a broken vase, and
a yellow-faced diary, double-spiral; all items kept together
on
a sighing side table, near the tattered sofa, watched by a grim couple
in a
framed photograph, top corner of the wall
with
the peeling plaster, a plastic
dinosaur.
The wind enters
stealthily
the semi-dark room, a teen
late from a romp, surreptitiously slipping in
a half-snoring home; the flushed wind
kisses the diary, the way a totem is kissed by
an aching heart.
Pages flutter like old desires ignited
on solitary nights laced by rains,
decades
awakened
by those warm lips of the hot wind,
words
escape the gloomy silence
into
the neon-lit sprawl,
where, in another neglected
corner of the roof, sits a maid, eyes moist,
thinking
of
a far-off land, and a husband
who
never returns the frantic calls.
About the Author
Sunil Sharma is a humble word-worshipper: catcher of elusive sounds, meanings and images. 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, 26th November, 2024
My Journey
My journey towards the dark east
When I can't even touch the moist
eastern darkness ,
Through the whole night, through the reflected light
I could touch rain .
Last Rays
The day breaks down
To sun and its shadows
My mesmerizing eyelashes
Save you from the fierce elongated sun rays
also the red infra red of the morning sun
Frightened me in the afternoon by
Ultraviolet rays
About the Author
Mandira Ghosh is an eminent author, poet, educator and researcher. She is an outstanding and hard worker who has educated and groomed hundreds of children and received a Senior Fellowship from the Ministry of Culture, Government of India. She is a recipient of Bharat Nirman Award 2020, Dr. Radhakrishnan Award from Asian Academy of Arts and Marwah studios.Plaque of distinction from DELNET, Asian LIterary Societies two consequent awards, Indian women achiever 2020 and Author of the Year Award 2022. She has remained the Guest Editor of the Special Indian Edition of the Seventh Quarry, Swansea Magazine from Wales and also a featured poet in the same magazine.
Monday, 25th November, 2024
Ressurection
By Toolika Rani
As leaf after leaf fall from the trees
Gliding their way into oblivion
In the days slightly grey,
It almost seems like a soft demise-
A noiseless sway-
As if the detachment was but natural
Induced by a mere change of weather!
But the thud on the ground was hard.
And, above on the branch,
It left a scar.
A desolate nakedness
Contrasting with
A floor full of drying manure.
For ages long, the process of forgetting
The trees endured.
Then, blame it on the weather again-
The resurgence of pain,
A tiny, brownish, miniature
Rearing its head from the scarred stain
Refusing to submit
Unable to erase
The memory of the grace
With which its previous form had swayed
In the wind wild, in a storm’s face,
And there again, the trees smile in all their verdant glory
Telling the birds, with a mirthful swerve,
Many a forgotten story!
Of staying alive in deadness,
Of the power of an entrenched memory,
Resurrection! That makes life savoury!
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, 22nd November, 2024
The pages of my Diary
By Aishwariya Laxmi
Within the old, forgotten pages
Of a yellowed diary
Lies the rose you gave me,
Pressed between the pages
And flattened,
The rose resembles
Ephemeral beauty
It has captured
Another time and place
One that no longer remains.
The seasons came and went
With it, you took your promises
Of forever, looking
For newer pastures
And leaving behind
Old acquaintances
That you probably forgot.
That rose has lost
Its meaning for me
The fragrance long gone
From the pages of my memory
What dawns is a new season
Of life, requiring new skills,
New attitudes, and new beginnings.
About the Author
Aishwariya Laxmi is an Indian writer, editor, blogger, and poet living in suburban Chennai, India. Her poems appear in Spillwords.com, The Drabble, anthologies by Sweetycat Press, Writefluence, Soul Poet Society, ThirdEyeButterflyPress, Indie Blu(e) Publishing, etc. Her bio was featured in 'Who's Who of Emerging Writers 2021' by Sweetycat Press. She was one of the TOP 3 winners of High-5- The Great Poetry Hunt Contest organized by WriteFluence. She has also written flash fiction and essays that have been published in anthologies and are available on Amazon. She holds a master’s degree in communication. She blogs on https://aishwariyalaxmi.com/.
Thursday, 21st November, 2024
letters from home
weathered with years—
each autumn I wonder
if my name still lingers
in the rings of time
lullabies drift
on the wings of dusk—
the last breath of
mother tongue withers
in the chill of harvest
rusted hinges creak
on a half-open gate
watchful crows perch
on bare branches
summoning the night
Wednesday, 20th November, 2024
Reminiscences
By Sanjeev Sethi
During the phase, the paterfamilias
was on his last hurrah, none of his
progeny enlisted as caretakers. His
eyes rolled in rheum. It signaled a
failing mind, a forsaken maestro.
Nobody spotted the grime in his nails.
No one noticed his desire to be doted
on. Post his death, they profited from
his stardom. Prolix meter on public
platforms magnified the mensch.
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.
Tuesday, 19th November, 2024
starched linen
a soft wrinkled hand
on her lap
flowers trampled
in the gale
the tricolour wrap
fragile
emotional lattice
scaffolding history
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.
Monday, 18th November, 2024
Forgotten Corners
By Geeta Varma
Ammu. Slightly bent, old,
Exposed her betel-stained teeth
When she smiled,
Was up by five,
Woke all the children,
Calling them affectionately,
‘Kutta’, ‘Kutty’, or ‘Mani’,
Made them brush their teeth,
Bathe, wear proper clothes,
Drink their milk…
(She shouted when they hesitated)
Then she cleaned, washed dishes…
Late afternoon, after lunch,
(Children watched her eat),
She went home.
Children followed her till the gate
When she promised them ‘Muttayi’
On her way back.
They waited near the gate,
Played, keeping an eye on the gate
But she would have entered
Hiding a newspaper wrap
Full of sticky, orange ‘Muttayi’.
Wonder where she is now!
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.
Friday, 15th November, 2024
Autumnal Remembrances
By Sreelekha Chatterjee
My mind’s haunting eagle hovers over my past,
as I wade through a sea of memories
in the coil and uncoil of autumn days
like treading the withered leaves
into a bed of multihued, carpeted rills
in shades of yellow and brown.
Their crunching, crackling sound stirs
the elapsed corners of my consciousness.
Days of fall pass in a wink of an eye,
hinting at the short attendance of the season
and a year soon to be gone.
Reminiscences of slips and misses overwhelm,
while the triumphs shelter in an egghead’s store.
Like the quiet, mellowed-down autumn sunshine,
the sprightliest recollection glows the mind’s lonely alley,
a vague emotive tone that brightens but doesn’t warm.
Slanting angles of light fashion more past shadows
that whip and clearly define where they touch—
an elegiac lament of the wondrous days,
or regret of times passed looking away.
Underneath the yellowing leaves of a tree,
I espy a tiny, elfin weed with vivid cerise leaves,
a trifle noticed when at rest.
A bolted chapter of my life suddenly unfolds—
like a phantom of a relative, a friend, or a lover—
magnifying an emotion of a departed era.
As the days pale and mingle with nights,
I light lamps at every forsaken corner of my house
so that I can turn moments’ remembered tears
into sparkling jewels of cognizance that will
serve as a passion for the coming year.
About the Author
Sreelekha Chatterjee is a poet from New Delhi, India. Her poems have appeared in Madras Courier, Setu, Raw Lit, The Mini Magazine of Assam, Verse-Virtual, The Wise Owl, Pena Literary Magazine, Ghudsavar Literary Magazine, Orenaug Mountain Poetry Journal, Poetry Catalog, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, Medusa’s Kitchen, 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).
Thursday, 14th November, 2024
Haiku
shards of the moon -
an empty shell
on the coast
dawn of dreams -
on the abandoned easel
the creepers
deserted bench-
a bouquet of roses
without perfume
About the Author
Giuliana Ravaglia, 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, 13th November, 2024
Metamorphosis
By Biswajit Mishra
The little house
we lived in near the equator
a colonial residue we were told
with a tinned roof
shut windows to ward off the bugs
locked gates to seal the noise out
and you painted it vibrant
without a brush,
the volume within growing
with your breath every day
that aired it well too.
Outside, you planted the flowers
which were not a patch
on the blossom inside and
floral aroma of the garden
was challenged by the flavor
that you stirred out of the pots
and as an icing on top:
we saw our first double rainbow across the gate
crowning the little house
where the colonial sediments
still clung to the unused fireplace’s chimney
but you waved it all away
always restoring the house
to what you destined it to be
as you went about expanding
every part of a room.
I wonder if our visitors
saw the hues, and
the expansiveness
like we did
unless they came without
their lenses
and
mirrors with pent images!
Tuesday, 12th November, 2024
broken rung -
i continue up
the persimmon tree
pushing the wheelchair
of her mother too -
path of morning dew
as one of us -
flower of the sala tree
withering
Monday, 11th November, 2024
Unto that haven...
By Supatra Sen
Across solitude and autumn hues
I return
Home
To myself…
To my hidden corners
Of fairy tales
And enchanted trees
Of magical lands
And wispy clouds
Of people who never grow up
Of music which never dies
My retreat
My shelter
With scattered fragments
Of myself
Strongly secured
With multitude of roles
And chains of time
About the Author
Dr. Supatra Sen is Associate Professor And Head PG Dept of Botany, Asutosh College,Kolkata. She loves to read and write poetry in her spare time.
Friday, 8th November, 2024
Autumn's Canvas
By Narinder Jit Kaur
When nature’s canvas turns into
A palette of amber and gold
The languorous earth takes a sabbatical
And the sun bears a faded smile
When the crushed leaves are strewn around
Like the shards of bleeding dreams
The passion that once set my being ablaze
Lies frozen in the deep cold chambers
When the gusty winds shake
The lone sprig of the denuded tree
A dalliance long lost, stirs somewhere
In the rusted folds of memory.
The murky mist without
Settles deep within
Choking ‘n constricting
The frail heart.
The soul longs for the Sun
That warmed it
Long ago!
About the Author
Narinder Jit Kaur, a trilingual writer, and translator, who writes with fair ease and finesse in English, Hindi, and Punjabi, is a retired Associate Professor of English. Her articles, stories, and poems are regularly published in various newspapers and magazines. She has translated five books from Punjabi to English, including three novels and two collections of short stories. Her sixth book Dawn to Dusk is a collection of 58 middle articles published in prominent newspapers. The Icicle: A Collection of Short Stories is her seventh book, her first in creative writing.
Thursday, 7th November, 2024
Haiku on Forgotten corners
Balchik…
the wind carrying cherry petals
to a forgotten queen
starlit veranda…
pierced pumpkins
out to dry
orientale dance…
on a rotten apple
moonbeams
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. instagram: steliana_voicu
Wednesday, 6th November, 2024
A House and its Memories
By Sherin Mary Zacharia
Much to recollect
On those shapes
The shapes of shadows
The shadow-puzzle thrown by leaves
The green leaves of the mango tree
The mango tree in the garden
The garden in front of the house
The house was old, many lives it seen,
many tales it has to tell.
They would sit in the spaces restricted
Near the wooden stairs,
Near the grinding stone,
Near the stacked fire wood;
Those corners where sunlight retreated early
Where the rustle of mango leaves forgot to reach.
No longer their stories travel
Not anymore, from lips to ears
No more is there anyone, to tell their tales.
The house, desolate.
Its corners where secrets whispered
Now swept with dust, crumbled memories
By the cold winds.
The cold yesterdays, like fallen leaves
Slowly to be moved aside
Into secluded corners
Of the mind, left to be forgotten.
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.
About the Author
Jan Stretch is a retired psychiatric nurse-therapist from Victoria BC Canada. She enjoys her large extended family, especially her two grandchildren and returned to thoughts of poetry on her daily walks during Covid. Jan was first published in the Dear Vaccine Anthology in 2022 and has since been published in numerous international journals, podcasts and anthologies. She especially loves writing Japanese short form and Cherita although is occasionally inspired to write longer poems. She is currently an administrator on Haiku Moments Facebook group. Insights gained from her years as a therapist and her nature walks continue to inform her poetry.
Monday, 4th November, 2024
In Autumn's Hush
By Snigdha Agrawal
in autumn’s hush, leaves descend
a fleeting dance before the end
like lives that drift from green to gold,
bloom, burn,
then quietly fold
life...
like autumn
must let go
to seed the earth
for what will grow
Purple Petunias
purple petunias...
she hides the bruises
colours once bold
now veiled in decay
like autumn leaves
turning brittle
a quiet surrender
to age...
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.
Friday, 1st November, 2024
Footfalls through Faded Leaves
By Monika Ajay Kaul
The air turns crisp,
memories endure a chill.
And I linger at the doorway
where home was once
the scent of rain on wood.
Autumn, soft and hesitant,
layers the earth in gold,
as if the trees fear letting go.
It stirs something old,
an ancient knowing
of rooms that held warmth
before seasons began to shift within me.
Exile is not distance,
but a state of being,
when home is no longer a place,
but a longing woven
into every step I take.
Leaves fall,
and with them,
debris of voices,
from a time before stillness crept in,
before the road swallowed all direction.
The brittle crack beneath my feet
reminds me..
a fragile noise,
like the way home once felt.
Alive,
before a lull settled in its place.
Memories decay,
like autumn itself,
into something tender.
A fading.
Carrying the weight of belonging,
and the ache of its loss.
I carry them,
those rooms,
that air,
the redolence.
Knowing they belong
to another season now.
Thursday, 31st October, 2024
leaves scrunch
with every step...
thoughts quieten
a mynah bobs
on the tip of a branch...
Hamlet moment
August showers
dawn pats dry
the tears
bookcase...
an abhaya mudra
raises above the words
About the Author
Kavita Ratna is a children's rights activist, poet and a theatre enthusiast. Sea Glass is her first anthology of poems. Her poems have appeared in The Kali Project: Invoking the Goddess Within, A little book of serendipity, Presence, the Asahi Shimbun, Muse India, The Wise Owl, haikuKATHA, Haiku in Action, Poetry Pea, Black and White Haiga, Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Cold Moon Journal, Five Fleas Itchy Poetry, Haiku Dialogue, Stardust Haiku, LEAF, New Verse News, haikuNetra, Haikuniverse, failed haiku and Parcham. She has been actively involved in the Glass House Poetry Festival, Bangalore, 2024 and the Mysore Literature Festival, 2024. She is also a Pushcart Prize nominee.
Wednesday, 30th October, 2024
though encircled
its wrinkles untouched by rain —
armchair
autumn morning —
those checkout girls
gleam less brightly
the flickering of a floodlight —
autumn semitones
About the Author
Maurizio Brancaleoni lives near Rome, Italy. He holds a master's degree in Language and Translation Studies from Sapienza University. His haiku and senryu have appeared in Synchronized Chaos, Dadakuku, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Under The Basho, among others. In 2023 one of his micropoems was nominated for a Touchstone Award, while a horror ku originally featured in the Halloween-themed issue of Scarlet Dragonfly was re-published in this year's Dwarf Stars anthology. Maurizio manages “Leisure Spot", a bilingual blog where he posts interviews, reviews and translations.
Monday, 28th October, 2024
Jasmine blooms
so without introduction
thoughts unfold
I feel a warm touch
from mother nature
secrets of darkness
the night wears its cloak
time passes slowly
memories of longing accumulate
deep is this sky
morning fog
on the mountain road ...
I search for him
on dim pathways
with my heart's own light
About the Author
Friday, 25th October, 2024
baby birds
tasting the tips
of the tiniest twigs
honeybee
the flower's lover
fluffs her golden hair
sparkles
in the stargazer's eyes
a puppet's smile
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 earlier this year (2023). An author’s page for Robert Witmer can be found at both the Poets & Writers and AuthorsDen websites.
Thursday, 24th October, 2024
Poems
By Kevin Cowdall
Bamboo Flute
A single high note,
piercing the afternoon air.
Then all is silent.
Old Window
Grubby old window
letting in a little light
and a lot of draught.
Sunflowers
Standing in a row,
they all raise their heads as one,
a silent fanfare.
Nightingale’s Song
A nightingale sings –
a song to gladden the heart
and lift the spirit.
About the Author
Kevin Cowdall's poems have been published in journals, magazines, and anthologies, and on web sites, across the globe and broadcast on BBC Radio, RTÉ Radio, Ireland, and local radio stations across the UK. His 2016 retrospective collection, Assorted Bric-à-brac brought together the best from three previous collections (The Reflective Image, Monochrome Leaves, and A Walk in the Park) with a selection of newer poems). His most recent collection, Natural Inclinations, features fifty poems with a common theme of the natural world.
About the Author
Jerome Berglund has worked as everything from dishwasher to paralegal, night watchman to assembler of heart valves. Many haiku, haiga and haibun he’s written have been exhibited or are forthcoming online and in print, most recently in bottle rockets, Frogpond, and Modern Haiku. His first full-length collections of poetry Bathtub Poems and Funny Pages were just released by Setu and Meat For Tea press, and a mixed media chapbook showcasing his fine art photography is available now from Yavanika.
Monday, 21st October, 2024
Insomnia
By Nisha Nair
I woke up to
The call of ravens
Nested outside
My window, their haven.
Half-awake and
Half in a dream
I searched the dark
To find a gleam.
Doubts arose in
My mind; is it yet
The dawn or night
Undone still? I fret.
Ravens caused a ruckus
Still, in the mid of
Night, it seemed,
Driving slumber off.
I shut the windows
Drew the blinds
Wishing upon wish
For sleep in my mind.
I counted stars
And counted sheep
Yet, I could not find
The precious lost sleep.
I read books of
Fiction and history
Still, sleep was an
Alluring mystery.
A brew of herbs didn’t
Lure sleep in
I lamented – is this
‘Cause of unknown sin?
Sleep hid away
Like a playful sprite
Despite what I did
Which seemed so trite.
‘T was nothing but a
Recap of nights, so far.
A rooster crowed somewhere
As dawn effaced the stars.
I moaned over
My fate so glum
and sleepless nights
Yet to come.
About the Author
Friday, 18th October, 2024
I am in your new house
that is yet to fully become a home
and the word sliver comes to mind.
Sliver as in
a life like glass
smashed into slivers.
Sliver as in
slivers of glass
painfully embedded in the skin
Sliver as in
slivers of glass
that shine with light and hope
not from outside but within.
About the Author
Ronita Chattopadhyay (she/her) finds refuge in words. She also makes a living out of it while supporting not for profit organisations in India. Her poems have appeared in The Hooghly Review, Roi Fainéant Press, Akéwì Magazine, Setu, Rogue Agent Journal, RIC Journal, among others, and anthologies by Querencia Press (Winter Anthology 2024) and Sídhe Press (To Light The Trails. Poems by Women In a Violent World). She lives in West Bengal, India.
Thursday, 17th October, 2024
a child’s glazed eyes
sweets behind glass
just out of reach
one small coin
clutched in her fist
is it enough
a host of swallows
swirl beneath storm clouds
frenzied last supper
planted pink
my poppy blooms
bright red
a mind of her own
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.
Wednesday, 16th October, 2024
When Memories Refuse to Fade
By Sarojkanta Dash
Dear Mukesh, every time I hear a song
We enjoyed on the radio long ago
I'm lost, deeply saddened, my heart racing
Against the wall of memories, washed clean with tears
The picture remains vivid, refusing to fade
You had no voice, yet sang to the tabla's beat
I had a voice, but never learned the rhythm's sway
That was me, and you knew it, in your own way
In your absence, life's rhythm is now a discord
I never wrote a good hand, yours was harder to read
But now, I cherish the letters you wrote from afar
The scribbles that once hurt my eyes are now softened with love
I wonder, were you born to be a rebel, wild and free?
Yet, you lacked the refinement of spirit, rough and carefree
You strayed too far, never to return, leaving me
To ponder, and remember, and yearn.
About the Author
Dr. Sarojkanta Dash is a bilingual writer and scholar from Odisha, India. He is a pioneering figure in Odia literary criticism, with a focus on formalism and close reading. His published works include the Odia short story collection "Anuragara Basna" (2010) and "Scarred Memories: Reconstruction of Experience in Partition Narratives" (2015), a seminal work in trauma studies. His poems have been featured in international anthologies. With proficiency in English and Odia, Dr. Dash continues to make valuable contributions to literature, solidifying his position as a trailblazing figure in Odia literary criticism.