Poetry
don’t try so hard
I stood over him as he sat at the table setting the book down automatically in front of him he looked up and almost made eye contact asking, “Who do I make it out to?”
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Showing 121-144 of 681 pieces
Poetry
I stood over him as he sat at the table setting the book down automatically in front of him he looked up and almost made eye contact asking, “Who do I make it out to?”
Poetry
From one realm to the next, may Your essence forever sizzle and soar. Because whether You believed or not, despite the world not consistently admitting nor deserving it, You were always the hero we needed.
Poetry
I am red like raag yaman. Red like stirring ardor, like relentless vikara, Like flesh awash with rasa, Wasteful, like Laal Ishq, Red like death.
Poetry
because there will come a mile where he is too weak to brush a horsefly from the bridge of his nose, his head on a stretcher pillow ringed by news microphones, surrounded by the indifference of trees;
Poetry
Winking bulbs, screaming vents. You need specialized footwear here. You need to wash workwear in a separate load due to its villainous grease.Senior members will ruthlessly remind. You must learn how to resorb the body’s complaints, fashion stout leather insides out of soft tissue.
Poetry
When he scolded us, in our classroom with Sister Martin standing in back, about dating a non-catholic, his voice rose. “Drop them like a hot potato.”
Poetry
This darkness is a blessing, these minor keys in your mouth a different kind of Pentecost—deep cuts cutting me loose from language.
Poetry
There—stuck in my neural net the drama has no answers for how turritopsis dohrnii can live forever, or why
Poetry
A stop in Chinatown netted me a wild horse: purple plastic, glowing radioactive in the dark twenty years later, a survivor of that trip and more.
Poetry
Dr. Abhijit Khandkar, a dalit poet and doctor by profession curates the works of seven contemporary dalit poets, who speak about various issues that concern their lives and as a result reflect in their writings. To be able to recognise, participate and understand such poetry is going back to the very roots of our culture, our angst and all that encompasses our literature.
Poetry
CP Surendran is one of India’s finest poets- a strange stillness follows his works, a numb silence too. Here he shares with us a stellar piece. Accompanying it, the poet’s musings.
Poetry
TBR presents Five Indian Children’s Poetry Books that have made a mark over the years.
Literature
TBR carries images that were clicked of the poet, as a part of a documentary (The False Start) on his life conceived and directed by Bishweshwar Das.
Poetry
Writer/translator Rajat Choudhuri Chaudhuri brings together poets from both India and Bangladesh, from cities like Kolkata and Dhaka, who write in Bangla.
Literature
Shadow and Silence, a photo essay by Basudhara Roy
Literature
We find two important women poets, Sophia Naz and Monica Mody initiate a conversation with the idea of placing poetry as a counter to amnesia and loss.
Poetry
Harry Bauld translates 4 poems by Osdany Morales.
Poetry
Dan Alter translates 4 poems by Yakir Ben-Moshe.
Poetry
At Sridhar Srigudda the rain comes once again electricity dies away while lightning flares tomorrow’s my birthday listening to night’s rain moutainside serenity dissolves time’s cares I’ll be 53 my life’s plan not yet plain I await a Calcutta job my love affairs are merely notes now Bhairavi’s sweet pain my trusty sarangi again prepares
Poetry
At any rate, I’m soon off to Walmart for necessities. I’m running low on shampoo and body wash. If my intuition is correct
Poetry
Sujit Prasad curates twelve poems in translation, for 12 months of the year 2023.
Poetry
The prescience itself is attacked: the caterpillars’ own being hates that it knows it will change, won’t let the secret be. Life can’t all be eating.
Poetry
We are entitled, much the same as the perception of time dying To look away in the direction where we notice a crow flying Because the crow, whether you know it or not, is a song bird
Poetry
My daughter backs into the neighbor’s car– confesses over a coffee table of water stains and smoke thick like a 90s beer pub. She gets off easy. She doesn’t know what she doesn’t know.