Prism

Just as the sun descends into
A drop of water
Creating a canvass of hues
The 7 columns of mist-spray
Embrace it with open arms
Painting a world of colours into
Its little body

I too possess a sun
And when I embrace it
A spectrum of rainbow-flowers grow from within me
All it takes is a slight change of direction
And again I become
A simple droplet of water
Blank and colourless.

Rehan Qayoom
London
www.rehanqayoompoet.blogspot.com

Cuckold's Plea

You'll never see him again, you say,
but what if he brings to your room
a midnight poem he says
he's written for you.

Will you read it together
a couple of times, out loud,
as you have in the past?
And what if he then

shoots like a rocket
into the forest, igniting the fire,
as he has in the past.
Will you see him again?

We have the children
to think about.
That's why I'm here.
We all need to know.


Donal Mahoney
P.O. Box 140184
St. Louis,
Missouri 63114-0184
U.S.A.
donalmahoney@charter.net

Shadows Falling from the Heart

for Kelly K. Moran

Before they fell in love
he'd met her heart in a dream.
It offered hope and beat within him,
brought soil and light to the trees.

Then she came to him, full-bright,
an unearthly light across the fields.

As she spoke
her voice lifted flowers from the gray.
They swelled and broke the silence within him,
brought blue to the sea.

In such time she carried him, sleep-quiet,
placed his broken body in the arms of angels.

When the shadows fell away, one by one,
they could see that his heart resembled hers.
An undeniable sign.

Oh love, mysterious thing,
as vital to life as the stars are to the universe,
you are what gives God his sight.


Jason Sturner
Wheaton, Illinois, U.S.A.
www.jasonsturner.blogspot.com

Swing and Creak

See-sawing in the breeze-
the thin crusted line
between the disparate worlds
is trodden down by soft petal-toed feet,
on this day of horrors.

On other dark hued days preceding.
On the long oily chain of days following.

Said but not spread,
only to whim
and not design.
It is not bright,
not suffiently warm enough to
gnaw holes in the freezing ice that covers everything.
freezing innocuous
moments like diseased flies in amber.

Find oneself in a familiar, previously trodden down spot?
Say welcome back Mrs.


Rebecca Woods
becki.woods@hotmail.co.uk

Homesick

Far.
It is not long since the moon crept in
And broke a few silver paces across the deck.
Not Far.
Since the light held your eyes,
As a lonely crystal flew
Across your face.
Liquid.
It is not far.
Since the day waved goodbye to morning
And welcomed politely the afternoon.
It is not far.
Since the earth jumped to caress you
Warm its kiss upon your face encased in nevers and not evers.
It is not far.
To walk to hear your laughter.
No, no,
It is not far.


Natalie Williams,
Wirral, UK
nataliewilliams-gypsybutterfly@hotmail.co.uk

Tangle

As your broad stemmed green shoots emerge
from the heather, slowly
eclipsing the rosemary and dandelion
rooted with azalea and blackberry intertwined, and your viburnum,
fuschia, and yucca crowd
the cedars, cherries, dogwoods, magnolias,
on whose feet
the climbing rose and English ivy tangle, hopelessly
thriving, I want

to know
when will I know enough to stand still with you, too still
to say your name?

Christianne Balk
cbalk@juno.com
Seattle, Washington
USA

That's How I Feel..

Closing my eyes into your face,
apparently walking, but trying to trace,
your footsteps to see if, just in case,
they lead to my heart.

The longing in my heart never seems to fade,
have been thinking nothing of late,
save you...I feel fascinated by the wait,
that your eyes bring with you.

Your words ring in my ears,
In those long hours with newfound tears,
Thinking of the long gone years...
How did I survive without you?

Your mere shadow gives me company,
Your mere laugh is a symphony,
You make my foggy day sunny,
Isn't all this enough?

That you then enter my dreams,
Spark across my skies like a multicolour beam,
Pull my fantasies upto extremes,
And still saviour enough for my day,
Making me feel all-supreme.

I'm not alone, just lonely,
I'm not mute, just silent,
I'm not a statue, just still,
And I'm not in love, just obssessed.

Drishti Sharan

Wake up and farewell

Another sunny afternoon, near summer.
I woke up.

Do one last recall, and this is the real farewell.
Last summer, those unbridled loud cries and laughs --
Floated away!
Quietly flowed through my body, as swept by a gust of tornado, ran towards the opposite direction and disappeared in waves.

Glossy leg fell asleep.
It will no longer wake up. I knew.
You hold my face under the moonlight. When tears become pearls, my reborn life is announced.

So screw those miniskirts!
Even wearing black nail polish, I have miraculously regained virginity.

Let me use the gentlest voice to talk to you.
If there is no tenderness, how can we survive?
You must take me with you.
I'll grow between your fingers.
When they clench, I obediently fall asleep.
When they open, I show the most coquettish erotic dance to you only.

And then, I will sit among crowds and listen to the stories of countless others.
I listen to stories.
I write stories.
I tell the stories to lots of irrelevant others.
It also gives me joy.

Apart from you, this is the second thing I feel happy for.
And this will do. I am very satisfied.

Another sunny afternoon, near summer. I woke up.

The soul in the flame died along with the evil body.
The reborn life stands in the ocean, with so much excitement.
Darling, let me show the most coquettish erotic dance to you only.

Xi Nan
Hometown: China
Country of Residence: UK