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The Sun Is Yet To Appear

With all its mighty show, the Sun is yet to appear
I sleep on my cot without any fear
Eyes still look sharp at the sky
Remains very much enthusiastic and ready to fly

The village life is not at all dull
It is not artificial but natural
All trees are now about to come alive
As birds make their move to strive

First signal of cuckoo reminds me of concert
Where audience is learned and known as an expert
Here there is no such preparation of any kind
Yet everything beats to rhythm and one may always find

Calves make desperate call for their mother
I am sure of their meal time to bother
Little wind blows up the roof top
I come to the sense and hurriedly get up

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Unique Timeline

It almost began without starting
Then you changed my mind
A whole new chapter of my life
A Unique Timeline

A year ago, you know the story
My place, friends, a black light party
Minds spinning, bodies flew
You were flirting, I was too
From our first night, to our first kiss
Our first two steps towards happiness

With the leaves, in love we did fall
Between punches and snap kicks
At Times Square, South Street, or Montreal
A unique timeline ticks
There is a first for everything
Nothing I wouldn’t try
Before Framing the Undead
Fun times were turned on high

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poem by Jacquelyn Gagnon
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The Cosmic Orchestra

With the break of dawning day,
The feathered folks greet the world,
In resonant notes of alluring songs,
They fill the hearts with rapturous glee.

Far or near a church bell sings,
Vibrant notes of chiming verse,
It floats around in rambling waves,
Urging the world to wake and work.

On fluttering wings the gentle breeze,
Comes down, to tickle the tender leaves,
Together do they sing and dance,
In delightful chorus to thrill the hearts.

Later sometime the falling rain,
Sings a song in rhythmic notes,
With rising strains and falling lilts,
The music goes on high and low.

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poem by Valsa George
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ShoreSide Magic

Oh what magic tonight!
earth and sea swallowed
in the infinite folds of
the horizon's sapphire shawl.
Shore-side flooded with liquid bluemoon
and glazen waves of silver crested guitar chords.

Glittering notes of translucent foam
and chromatic fish scales, together in concert,
vibrations crash, shattering the silent vegetation
of shadow and stone planted along the breakwall,
luminary rocks remain buddah trancelike still,
meditation undisturbed, peace intact,
undulation's unwavering pull
against the disciplined will

The ebb of the lake, an eternal dace:
moonstruck music, evaporating drums
extending in every direction.
Light of the lake seduces

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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Favourites

Authors are funny creatures
whenever we write.
Most of the time
we don’t like what we’ve written,
but there are occasions
when we will write something
that we really do like,
then we hate
letting that fledgling out of the nest.

I’ve been writing for more years
than I really care to admit,
and yes, I have my favourites
among all the writing I’ve done.
A novel called Blind Tiger
has never left the nest
and a short story called
The Man Who Was Always Late,
again never seen by anyone.

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poem by David Harris
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Just Thinking About Walt Whitman

In the lunch hour alleys of the city,
We ate our Mexican food with the mild sauce,
Not wanting to raise the heat of our conversations;
Our plans were a rock concert at a small venue
Where the pretty but slightly plump girls scream
Drunken love to the lead singer,
And the tall man with the fresh tan
Hangs out in the back aisle scoping out the chicks;
And a few people begin to dance with missile-happy,
Excited legs spraying all over the place,
And I just want everyone to be joyful
Without punk rocking the scene with any consonantal violence,
And I always want to dig the waitress passing out the beers,
She tends to have cute, short black hair and some hip tattoo;
If I’m already sober, she will give me a free coffee
And I’ll sit in a dimly-lit back corner all lonely
And try to write a melancholy poem about her eyes;
If I’m slightly inebriated, she’ll smile and get an easy tip
And then tell me to behave myself;
Someone will bring pizza and get all-tomato stained

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Share and fall

It reminds me of healthy poetry
Where fragrance of spirit is flown by almighty
Each words speaks of divinity
When words are meaningful to the extent of infinity

I was never in doubt when found you in desert
It was as if I was performing a concert
Noticed one desert flower in full boom
Where was the time to think of providing any room?

I had dropped in to see natural flavor
Everything was weighing in my favor
Soul to soul contact was destined to take place
I was clearly seen in visible move with race

It was time to share and fall in love
May be nature favored and I believed
I lost no moment to look at and seize
You happened to loose your identity and ceased

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Voiceless! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Climbed the stairs slowly due to arthritis
Rummaged in the bag for the house keys.
Unlocked the main door, and wearily stepped in
Laughing Buddha seemed to mock and grin…

Kept her stuff, and rushed to the refrigerator.
Took out frozen food along with a bottle of water.
The house was quiet, after the din of work place.
Badly, needed some solitude and her own little space.

Just then she got two messages from her family on mobile.
Hubby- sorry, a client meet, she read with a taste of bile.
Son- ma, last moment decided to go for Oscar winner,
‘Slum Dog Millionaire’, so please don’t wait for dinner.

Was she mad or glad when she threw the TV remote?
She took out her pen and made some notes.
Later, she made a salad and chicken roast
And had it with chilly pepper and garlic toast.

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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Old Blue Eyes

He was hungry for dinner at eight,
and swaggered onto music stage,
with audiences eager for song,
and presence of the confident master of
control,
in life and film and legend.
From black-haired youth to grey old man,
a colossus, who could
make it there and anywhere,
it was up to him.

Women's love filled that need
of affection, and
men the saloon chums,
song gathered eyes of
the blue sea of admiration
from sixty years,
through cinema and song.

When your awaited death,

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poem by Bernard Kennedy
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The Love of the World Reproved: or, Hypocrisy Detected

Thus says the prophet of the Turk;
Good musselman, abstain from pork!
There is a part in every swine
No friend or follower of mine
May taste, whate'er his inclination,
On pain of excommunication.
Such Mahomet's mysterious charge,
And thus he left the point at large.
Had he the sinful part expressed,
They might with safety eat the rest;
But for one piece they thought it hard
And set their wit at work to find
What joint the prophet had in mind.

Much controversy straight arose,
These choose the back, the belly those;
By some 'tis confidently said
He meant not to forbid the head,
While others at that doctrine rail,
And piously prefer the tail.

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poem by William Cowper
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