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Daily Verse

Final Week, November 2023

Image by Joel Holland

A Poem
by Latika Singha  27th November, 2023

Floral Arrangement 3

If winter comes,
can spring
be far behind?

wrote the bard,

and yet,
we deny
the happy song

of spring flowers,
bursting into
thousand hues

and hang on
tailcoats of

thoughts huddled
frosty, fearful

even as
the sun,
with garlands
of spring,


to share
its warmth

Image by Alisa Anton


by Michael Lee Johnson  28th November, 2023

Cup of Tea
Summer is dying.png

Summer is Dying

Outside, summer is dying into fall,

and blue daddy petunias sprout ears—

hear the beginning of night chills.

In their yellow window box,

they cuddle up and fear death together.

The balcony sliding door

is poorly insulated, and a cold draft

creeps into all the spare rooms. 

Black petunias.png

Bowl of Black Petunias

If you must leave me, please

leave me for something special,

like a beautiful bowl of black petunias—

for when the memories leak

and cracks appear

and old memories fade,

flowers rebuff bloom,

sidewalks fester weeds

and we both lie down

separately from each other 

for the very last time.

Image by Katie Moum

The Gold must Blur Always
By Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia  29th November 2023

Dry Yellow Leaf

The Gold must blur, always. 

A desperate urgency to catch the richness

of beauty and love, a secure indolence

like that of a domestic cat stretching to purr

in the sheer overflow of well-being under a warm caress,

so also Autumn, the plenteously mellow, the honey sweet, 

the deliciously apple-curved and pear-ripe and juicy-chinned childlike

all at once in park and backyard and single tree universe 

Sun hanging overhead oozing distilled drops of ductile sunshine 

morphing into the satin brownness of rounded conkers

reddening into auburn haloes of trees turning colour at sunset

paling into dawn- drenched and drifting mists in magic mornings.

Roll the sweetness up in one tight bunch ere the Hag Winter 

strips forests of their riches like a fascist 

and under wet eyelids see the  blurring points

of orange streetlights on dark moonless nights 

in dull December and the chilling tunnel

of endless nights of shivering deprivation. 

The Gold must blur

around the pale grey bark of Russian birches

and fall on floors like piles of gold the dream of Midas

once and only once beheld in wonderment 

before the harsh reality of cold metal meets pouting lips 

and teeth hungry for food turn broken pearls 

and regret strikes and mind recants from heart’s desire. 

The rawness of Spring’s green though edged with gold

is not lost on tender lips breathless to kiss 

catkins are not yet soft with fuzzy fur.

And Summer Sun, too harsh on window panes without their blinds

And eyes not heavy-lidded. 

Therefore the Gold must blur


Image by engin akyurt


By Debarati Sen 30th November 2023

Autumn Wreath
Image by David Pisnoy

November breeze

I let go off summer colours

from my notebook 

Image by Olivia Hutcherson

Autumn hues

wrapping my sunburnt dreams

within a maple leaf

Paltan Bazaar.png

Dehra hills

revisiting Rusty’s childhood 

at Paltan Bazar


Changing Moods & Rhythms of Seasons
By Sreelekha Chatterjee 1st December  2023

Mint Leaves

Spring—like a newborn child—ushers in a manifesto of inspiration,

when flowers bloom and birds sing underneath the blue sky,

endowed with colours, nature calls for reasons of fascination.

With the enthusiasm of children learning their first lessons,

blossoming gardens engage in breathless rustles and noiseless whispers,

their dreams flourish and promises purport to splendid expositions.

Summer comes in ablaze—with golden hues dazzling the azure sky—amid splendor,

resembling the valour of youth and incandescent energy;

long, limpid and immense days bring in their own wonder.

Sweltering days and suffocating nights,

energy of many surrenders to the fiery attire of the stretchy days;

fatigue ensues when nature cries in pain and longs for respite.

Monsoon tones down the bridling heat with its comfort downpour;

it matches with the middle-age when knowledge and wisdom flows;

at the end, it’s a bountiful harvest that is surely in for store.

Dark clouds linger in the sky like guests in a wedding,

Earth as a bride yearns to meet her partner rain,

a union so heavenly that vibrant verdure of embellished boughs spring.

Advent of the delightful autumn triggers withering leaves detaching from trees,

a transitional phase before the old age is believed,

when disengaged beings swirl and twirl in the pleasant breeze.

A vague disquiet succeeds the joy of the autumn,

a time to reflect and ponder the yesteryears;

elderly, matured days which is called winter so often.

Caught up in the noose of cold winds and throttling low temperatures,

a gentle warmth of sunshine balms the body and enlivens the mood,

lost in reveries of the spring, the bright days of childhood one captures.

Seasons go on in an unending cycle as is life,

birth and expiry imitate spring and winter;

moments to comprehend, joys to treasure as long as they are in sight. 

Biographies of Poets

Latika Singha, ever enchanted by the written and spoken ' word ', lives in jaipur, with her green friends, friends with paws and some spirited fellow humans. She is also besotted by expression in hindustani.. and absorbs herself, reading and writing in this lovely language too..

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. Today he is a poet in the greater Chicagoland area, IL.  He has 295 YouTube poetry videos. Michael Lee Johnson is an internationally published poet in 45 countries, a song lyricist, has several published poetry books, has been nominated for 6 Pushcart Prize awards, and 6 Best of the Net nominations. He is editor-in-chief of 3 poetry anthologies, all available on Amazon, and has several poetry books and chapbooks. He has over 453 published poems. Michael is the administrator of 6 Facebook Poetry groups. Member Illinois State Poetry Society:

Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia is a Punjab-born, Patna-based, retired Indian bureaucrat. She enjoys writing in different genres, in English, Urdu, Hindi and Punjabi .Her writings are imaginative and humane, with occasional flashes of wit and frequent touches of wry humour.

Debarati Sen is a recipient of the ‘Poiesis Award for Excellence in Poetry -2023’, and the Sylvia Plath Women's Literary Award. A poet from Kolkata, she  writes both long verses and haiku. She has recently been declared the winner of NaPoWriMo 2023 by the Elite Book Awards. She has published two solo poetry collections and has contributed to more than 10 anthologies. Her haiku has been published in various international journals. Her latest collection of poems, Saudade, was brought out by Penprints in 2022.

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