Hands | A Poem by G.S. Katz

Holding hands with you
Like ducks swimming in pairs
Never far apart
Love, devotion, unity

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Two Tongues | A Poem by P.K. Deb

For my effective expression,
wonderful maybe but
I possess a pair of tongues -
one by birth and another by profession.
Ever-active these are to simplify
the jumbled lanes of my heart to other,
yet unable to restrict a critical estimation,
as these differ from each other
so similar these are too to some extent.

Different these are in location
by the distance of more than five oceans,
in emotional expression -
if Windows XP is the former, easy to handle,
the latter is nothing but Windows 8,
needs extra – care and fuel
and in ethical justification,
communal is my tongue by birth
but universal is the tongue by profession.
Yet these are spontaneous and hand in hand
in spraying honey and custard oil
in the ears of friends and foes

Well disciplined these are
In maintaining a line of control and jurisdiction,
as in the outdoor -
my hands are outstretched to embrace the universe
and the professional tongue -
forgetting all jealousy and hatred
wishes to be loud in uttering,
”I Love You”,
but in the indoor,
quite spontaneous and communal I am
in using my tongue by birth
to express my love to my beloved wife,
”Aami Tomake Bhalo bashi”
an oriental expression of love,
meaning, the same – I Love You.

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How to Write a Love Poem | A Poem by Naduni

One of my friends said
You should never marry
A poet!
He would write love poems
When you are together
And break-up poems
If you leave him, and
Elegies – if you die.
Thus you are raw material for
His creative machine.
I never agreed with her
What’s wrong in using your lover
For Poetry?
The world doesn’t let you be
A Marxist, a Feminist, a Nazi or any
Kind of rebel
So poetry can’t have a social impact
You get me?
If you don’t the price is your head
Morality is out of style
So no one would bother to read your moralistic poems
War poems are outdated too
Anyway the NGOs won’t let you write war poems
Like Tennyson’s
So what is left to you
Is that little boy
Who has a crush on you
Or who is your crush
So you take him out
Rip him open
Separate each part
Scan and analyse
Then categorize
After that he is ready to be written about.
When you write
You can distort his looks, characteristics,
His history etc.,
And upgrade them or degrade
As you like
So basically you can do anything
With that crush of you
But you should inject the word “love”
Here and there with some sentiments.
For that purpose
You can add some images of
The beach, the sky etc.,
So your love poem is ready
And your creativity is justified
If you say “yes it is”
To the question,
“Is this poem based on your personal experience?”

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Fruit Stand | A Poem by G.S. Katz

He has a stand at the corner of my block
Fruits and Vegetables only
Rain or shine

I call him Fruit Man
There’s two of them working 12-hour gigs
Like a nurse’s shift in a hospital
But they’re not, they are the Fruit Guys

In their country they could have been doctors
Accountants or Lawyers too
At the very least cable TV installers
Here they sell fruit

No complaints from these guys
A milk crate to sit on
Stoic and friendly enough
One box of strawberries or two?

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My Guests | A Poem by P.K. Deb

My guests are ever-solicited
yet they cross me flying over raising hands
or running by me,
so selective they are, it seems,
Nevertheless, my thirsty eyes get quenched up,
as my guests are witnessed
entering my poor parlor
walking on the way of my blood and sweat.
They steer the magical rods,
make my dry lips fertile,
my heart brimful in luxurious emotion
to blast a musical laughter
and my feet hilarious in joy
to show their spontaneous dancing steps
for a blissful while – consisting of
a few tumultuous moments of amusement.
Alas! As time passes, moment by moment
so the guests start disappearing one by one
in the bottomless holes of my booster -
boosting my unaccounted
smile, laughter and dancing up.
The wheel of life moves another round,
makes my eyes thirsty and watchful
for gaining the presence of the guests again
and hopeful too plan wise to sustain
their existence for a long time and term.
Experienced heart admits the importance of
a rationing system of amusement -
well featured by a new booster with a regulator.

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Metamorphosis | A Poem by Naduni

The niches that once overheard
Your conspiracies against
Are dull and half asleep
The walls that once bore your passionate
And rebellious expressions
Written in full force
Are white and immaculate
The ancient trees with numerous branches
That sheltered the youth
Who sacrificed their own roofs
In search of a better shelter
Through a different decree
Are staring at the deserted ground
The buildings where you held your congregations,
Planned and cheered;
Where you laid the dead, who died like cattle and wept;
Where you laid the bleeding and removed
Bullets from their arms and skulls
Are no longer bloody
They are full of youths engulfed in chatter
About “Dae Jangueme”
There reverberate the silly laughs of girls
And the beating of the boys’ hearts
Pending love
And dialogues practiced by aspiring actresses

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A Paradise | A Poem by P.K. Deb

The keen longing for a paradise,
maybe, a dream or a pet always
but the sky alone is incapable and helpless
to germinate even a tiny flower plant.
A paradise – a luminous and tumultuous garden,
full of blissful flowers and feathery singers -
exhibiting the colours and beauties of fresh life –
and singing the triumph of life as the best.
Paradise – assumed already as a belonging
of life-less heaven – a world of fantasy
but well appreciated and valued
only in the real world of blood and sweat,
well co-operated by open hands and hearts,
germinated on no-where other than the land -
Nurtured, enjoyed and glorified by the mortals
adding the sky to the land—fantasy to the reality
for a spontaneous intercourse – quite significant
for blooming a life in the paradise
and a sweet smile on the thirsty lips
as a consolation – bestowed upon by mother-nature
against the pains and strains of tough reality.

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