24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Purple cotton candy clouds
Over a city of written dreams
Drifting, gliding, floating
Covering everything in a hazy glow
Not unlike sleep laden eyes
And mind conjuring up vivid pictures
Of fairies, dwarves and goblins
Dryads, elves, gremlins
Mingling in a landscape of serene chaos
Magic and dreams form worlds
More worlds… and words
Of wisdom, love and hope.
I wanted to find something
More than mere words
And give it to you
So this is the place I offer to you.
It is midnight now – the witching hour
I am drinking honeyed whiskey and writing
in something other then obsidian ink –
so clearly whatever is haunting me now
is not you is not cinnamon or orange juice.
I am not sobbing about the cities we did
not get to visit or the poems you chose not
to read so process of elimination –
this is NOT about you. It will be the
storm’s prime time soon – with more
flooding and too much unnoticed magic
.Shortly after that it will be the
artists hour and even the things that
have never made sense to anyone
gardless of their mental state or
abilities will be crystal and powerful.
People will gather and revel and you –
you will realize just how much there was
to miss. You will understand the haunting
of a lingering poem and the way the
computer eats thoughts from us all.
And time will continue to fly by
because I have conditioned myself
to this and for all the right reasons –
no one would ever notice the cracks.
-M. Rene’
This machine keeps me company
I often walk up to it
I find the drip drip drip musical
The fluffy brown rises
Jiggling, filling my cup
Unconsciously finching, taking a sip
It is bitter sweet and I have a burnt tongue
‘Ther’ are bigger things to consider
But ‘ther’ are smaller ones too
And I am in the midst of all
Am I feeling any different?
The intricate fantasies shock me
I see and feel in slow mo
I am unlucky to recognize this
Maybe I am overthinking
My coffee is finished
The brown drops have left a smile
On the bottom of a writer’s cup
I am lucky enough to notice this.
©️ Divya Venkateswaran
The sun-kissed my cheeks.
Imaginations filled my heart,
the first day of college,
was a mighty experience,
a kaleidoscope of lessons,
I’ve learned about Chemicals:
it is everything on earth.
MOTHERS LOVE IS SPECIAL
When God decided to descend on Earth,
He wondered how people will know His worth.
When He could not think any further
He realised; a perfect creation could only be the Mother.
Mother is the creator of the universe
Without her, life would be a curse
Mother keeps us safe in her womb
Will always love us, even after she reaches her tomb
Her breasts are always filled with love and milk
Her warm hugs are even softer than silk.
She always cooks tasty food
And is always ready to give us advice for our good.
Mother can be called by any name,
But her affection for us will always be the same
Theoretically, there is no special Mother’s Day
Mothers are to be loved and celebrated in every way.
BY SHREYA SURAJ
Large open field,
Leaves color of fire,
Crisp cold air.
A kaleidescope of butterflies signals the awakening of Spring,
the typhoon formed from the flapping of its wing’s flirting with my hair
The sun’s rays not yet hot enough to burn my skin
With memories of that which will die again with time.
cw: none
When you leave open a door,
eventually it will be used.
And when the air sang too sweet,
and all the canary’s feathers healed,
it found itself slipping
from one small world into
the bigger, beautifuller one.
It flew for the first time,
and the flight was hard,
but it felt so right.
Still, shelter came a-callin’;
the canary came back.
And in the room,
it no longer hated
the truth the window had revealed.
LIFE
Life is like mathematics,
We can add our friends,
Subtract our enemies
Multiply our happiness
Divide our love
Life is like food
It is sometimes sweet,
It is sometimes sour
Life is always full of spice,
It is up to us to make it nice
Life is like drama
It has a lot of characters
It is full of ups and downs
It has a lot of emotions
Leading a happy or sad life depends on our actions
BY SHREYA SURAJ