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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

February 

Trees in Winter

Friday, 7th February, 2025

Image by Clément Rémond

Ice Cave

By Radha Chakravarty

Hand Drawing

Memory is a cave

festooned

with

suspended

episodes

strung

like

icicles

bearing

unbearable

stories

frozen

in

the mind’s

time-

line

Thursday, 6th February, 2025

Image by Elena Putina

Micro Poems 

By Kavita Ratna

Hand Drawing
Image by Noah Näf

pierced heart

on a window pane

dusting day

cradled faith

a prayer awaits

the pole star

Image by Volodymyr Hryshchenko
Image by Evie S.

Why, child, do you

step into my aura,

only to vanish?

reality

taking shape

in conjured worlds

Image by Peter Olexa

Wednesday, 5th February, 2025

Image by Gul Zeynep Genc

Twilight Hours

By Geeta Varma

Hand Drawing

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!   

Tuesday, 4th February, 2025

Open Book
Hand Drawing
Image by Daniel Frank

fallen leaves -

all the words

I didn't say

lockdown -

wall of silence

unveils the stars

Image by Federico Beccari
Image by Jametlene Reskp

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

Image by Pawel Czerwinski

Everlasting Memories

By Sreelekha Chatterjee

Hand Drawing

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.

Friday, 31st January, 2025

Image by Matt Collamer

Patterns

By Avantika Singh

Hand Drawing

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

Image by Annie Spratt

Frozen Memories

By Fatma Zohra Habis

Hand Drawing
Image by Noom Peerapong

memories frozen 

alone I review

old movie 

Image by Sebastian Kanczok

a cold spark 

from frozen distant echoes 

I reach for it's warmth

Image by Debby Hudson

novel on the shelf 

time folds its pages~

memories frozen 

Thursday, 30th January, 2025

Image by Andrea Tummons

Poems 

By Vijay Prasad

Hand Drawing
Image by Ingmar H

winter dusk –

her eyes weep

fog

Image by Daniele Levis Pelusi

inside the winter wind my last breath

Image by Ganapathy Kumar

cold moon –

not a speck

of mind

Image by Sigmund

snowfall  . . .

her one-sided

hesitancy

Wednesday, 29th January, 2025

Image by Raimond Klavins

Farewell

By Shivshankar Menon

Hand Drawing

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.

Tuesday, 28th January, 2025

Winter Landscape

Haiku

By K Ramesh

Hand Drawing
Image by Hlaing Kyaw Phyoe

winter dawn...

sound of the teashop 

shutter opening

hill station convent... 

sweaters emerge from

the thick mist

Image by Tobias Oetiker
Screenshot 2025-01-27 at 7.32.04 PM.png

misty railway station...

a man in shawl reading

the newspaper 

Monday, 27th January, 2025

Image by Alberto Restifo

The Frozen Memories

By Toolika Rani

Hand Drawing

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

Funky Graffiti

Anniversary

By Sanjeev Sethi

Hand Drawing

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.

Thursday, 23rd January, 2025

Notebook and Pen

Tanka

By Jahnavi Gogoi

Hand Drawing
Image by K Adams

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 

Puja thali
Image by Ronin

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 . 

Wednesday, 22nd January, 2025

Image by Toni Cuenca

Fire and Ice

By Sunil Kaushal

Hand Drawing

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!”

Tuesday, 21st January, 2025

Pile Of Books

Frosted Memories

By Vijay Prasad

Hand Drawing
Snowy Forest

existence frozen in certain parts of me

dense fog  . . . 

am i

(𝘬)not

Image by Annie Spratt
Image by NOAA

darkens

my darkness  ... 

white snow

the thickness of a frozen absence

Cracked Ice

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

Abstract Water Colors

Calcutta Winters

By Haimanti Dutta Ray

Hand Drawing

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

Image by Tim Cooper

Hot coffee with a view of a snow covered parking lot

By Biswajit Mishra

Hand Drawing

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.

Thursday, 16th January, 2025

Image by Chloé Lefleur

Poems on Winter's Embrace

By Mona Bedi

Hand Drawing
Image by Anshu A

end of winter--
a row of pickle jars
bask in the sun


winter stars this wish to have it all

Image by Akhil Lincoln
Snow

evening chill
the silent conversations
of snow

Wednesday, 15th January, 2025

Image by Neil Thomas

Hymn for Fallen Soldiers

By Michael R. Burch

Hand Drawing

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

Image by Bernd 📷 Dittrich

Tanka & Monoku

By Pravat Kumar Padhy

Hand Drawing
Image by Gabriel Matula

teardrops
of burning memories
all evaporate
only to return back
as rain-soaked grief

melting snow into blades of grass

Image by Artem Sapegin
Image by Joel Filipe

frozen differences an adjective of the past

still breathing the scribbles deep beneath the frosty time

Image by Georgi Kamov
Tea flowers

tea flowers grandmother’s kyusu brewed with joy  

Monday, 13th January, 2025

Image by Simon Berger

Mummified

By Lily Swarn

Hand Drawing

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

Abstract Leaves

Forgotten

By Nandita Samanta

Hand Drawing

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.

Thursday, 9th January, 2025

Tree in Snow

Haiku on Frosted Memories

By Neena Singh

Hand Drawing