**NEW** POETRY OF THE YEAR: 2012 ….”WORLDWIDE POETRY 2012″..Coming Sept ’12





“WORLDWIDE POETRY 2012” ….Coming September 2012








FACEBOOK FAN PAGE LINK: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Poetry-by-Barry-Mowles-FAN-PAGE/290032914386620


EMAIL: destinytowrite@live.co.uk





The tears are flooding down across my face,

Why is life so empty and cruel?

Today is my 13th birthday, but all I can think about is those evil bullies from school.

I try to dry my eyes as my Mum walks into my room, bringing me breakfast in bed;

She sings me happy birthday, before softly kissing my forehead.

On the outside I try to smile, but on the inside I am screaming for her help, but she hasn’t got a clue;

I try to somehow find the courage to tell her, but instead my lips just tremble out “Mum….I love you”.

She blows me a kiss before walking away, shouting back for me to hurry as school starts in an hour and she doesn’t want me to be late;

My waiting tears start to once again fall, as I am trapped living in an inescapable fate.

Dear diary, please help me, you are my only friend, but these pages never send me a reply;

The bullies said yesterday if I ever come back to school then I was going to die.

Fat face, smelly clothes, they call me dirty just because of the colour of my skin;

I guess they are right, they are all so pretty with blonde hair, nice clothes, really popular and thin.

They always trip me over in the school yard, everybody laughs, and nobody cares when they see me cry;

Each night I sit weeping these tears of ink into my diary, asking the same question, why?

I stand staring at my ugly reflection as I get changed, my Mum shouting from downstairs that I only have 5 minutes before we leave;

The walls around me start to cave in, and my palms begin to sweat as I struggle to even breathe.

I swallow the lump in my throat, wipe my eyes and prepare myself for the day;

My lips tremble out “okay Mum, 2 seconds and we will be on our way”.

The whole journey to school I keep trying to tell my Mum the truth, but she is so happy, talking about parties and how all of my family are coming over later for my birthday tea;

Why can’t she just look into my eyes, as they are screaming out for her to help me.

We pull up to the school gates, my Mum kisses my cheek whilst saying “I love you baby”, I have to bite my lip so that I do not cry;

I open the car door as I whisper back “goodbye”.

My Mum pulls away, I see the bullies waiting in the school yard, staring across the road as I stand crying in the rain;

I turn and run sprinting blindly across roads, through parks until my tired legs give way to the pain.

I turn and look back, nobody is there I am all alone, my tears are overwhelming my face now and all I want to do is die;

I take off my scarf as I look towards the heavens, I wish my Mummy was here so that I could explain and say a better goodbye.

I tie one end of my scarf to the lowest branch, and I make a tight noose at the other end;

I place this letter alongside my diary at the base of the tree, and as my lips turn a dark shade of blue I whisper out goodbye to my only friend.


Today is my Daughters 13th birthday, I want to make it special as it’s the first since her Father said that his love for us had come to an end;

I try to stay strong on the outside even though my heart is broken, my Daughter is now my only friend.

I dry my lonely tears as I walk upstairs to take my Daughter a special breakfast in bed;

I sing her happy birthday, before softly kissing her forehead.

Her beautiful face shines the most amazing smile, tears of joy fill her eyes, my life should no longer matter, I just want to make all of her dreams come true;

My heart begins to melt as I hear her whisper, “Mum….I love you”.

I blow her a kiss and turn away before shouting back, “eat up quickly, school starts in an hour and you don’t want to be late”;

I can tell she misses her Father, but life is too short to dwell on the past telling your dreams that they will have to wait.

I have so much to do today as I am arranging a birthday party for my baby girl, no expense spared, I will do anything to make her happy no matter what the cost;

I cannot afford to be depressed and worry about all of those years I may have wasted and lost.

I stand looking at my incomplete reflection as I shout “BABY, WE ONLY HAVE 5 MINUTES BEFORE WE HAVE TO LEAVE”;

I wonder what my destiny has in store for me next, no doubt it will have yet another trick hidden up its sleeve.

I silently argue with my reflection, “put a smile on that face, this moment in time isn’t about you, this is your Daughters special day”;

A voice echoes down from her bedroom “give me 2 seconds Mum and we will be on our way”.

The whole journey to school I pretend to be so happy as I explain how all of our family are coming over after school for her special birthday tea;

These past few months I have been so selfish, as all I have really thought about was me.

We pull up to the school gates, I lean over kissing her softly on the cheek, as I say “I love you baby” a tiny smile creeps onto her face, she is so timid and shy;

She opens the door, glances back and whispers out “goodbye”.

Back home in a flash, I have a birthday party to organize and there is so much to do;

I wonder if this rain will ever clear up before the guests arrive, the skies are grey but I can see the sun trying desperately to break through.

After hours of baking cakes and blowing up balloons I finally finish right on time, as I hear “KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK” echoing from my front door;

I am so excited my baby is home I almost drop her birthday cake on the floor.

As I walk down the hallway I shout with excitement “Baby, did you forget your key”;

But as I open the door I experience a life changing moment that would forever alter my destiny.

3 policemen are stood in the doorway asking if they can come in;

My heart starts to fall as Goosebumps start to completely cover my skin.

Over their shoulders I can see my family walking towards me with sad faces and red eyes, I can tell each one of them has cried;

My trembling lips whisper out “what’s the matter”, as one policeman says “it’s about your Daughter, I am so sorry but she has died”.

The heavens open, my stomach twists into knots as I crash helplessly down to my knees;

I scream into the falling rain, “Tell me this isn’t true, please”.

I lay broken on the floor as my family try to console me, her life had only just started, and she was too young for this to be the end;

How can I say goodbye to my life,

And how can I say goodbye to my only friend.







If I could fly

I would see

My friend in Pine Street playing with a ball,

My father taking Rooney for a walk,

I would see my Mother washing the dishes,

My Sister watching T.V,

My Sister nagging my Mother.

I would hear

The children splashing in the puddles,

Children screaming in the yard,

An ambulance coming down Pine Street,

Fireworks banging in the sky,

Woodpeckers drumming on the trees,

Mr Locke blowing his whisle.

If I could fly

I would smell

Roses in the back garden,

My Nan baking a delicious cake,

My Mother roasting chestnuts,

School dinner from the canteen.







Today over 70% of our young people will become a victim for the bully, so under their hoods they hide their pain;

But no matter how much time passes, the scars still remain.

Nobody talks anymore, we are living in a virtual world of social networks and texting, as the world stares at a screen far too busy to see;

It doesn’t matter if you are young or old, we all need to learn that communication is the key.

I have used this pen to vent my frustration, I thought by writing down my emotions I would be confronting my fears;

I have to say thank you to this paper, for soaking up all of those ink filled tears.

Last year in England alone 2.4 million children were bullied, so now 223,410 of our children now live as angels up in heaven;

Just imagine that number is just one country, in the year of 2011.

Peer pressure entices our children, taking away their power of choice;

No place to hide, no place to go, with nobody to ever hear their silent voice.

To the stars we are all destined, so break free from your doubters, and never let your past be to blame;

But no matter how much time passes, the scars will always remain.





Dr A.V. Koshy

Lips, cold and half-open
waiting to be moistened/warmed
by lips, tongue, water or…

in expectation of
the anticipation
of parting.
Dr A.V. Koshy
Bangalore, India



We are separated,
But I feel obligated,
To walk you through the dark of night,
To be your glowing guiding light,
I feel your pain,
It drives me insane,
To know your struggles,
And all your troubles,
What once was ours,
Is now yours for hours,
For days and years,
But are still my fears,
My worries and sorrow,
Like a big pill to swallow,
It’s stuck and I choke,
These words are no joke,
It’s one big nightmare,
I can’t help but still care,
Your voice is getting distant,
Every day you’re more insistent,
To be a man of mystery,
Forgetting about our history,
There’s a demon on your shoulder,
And it’s making your heart colder,
Taking control,
Killing your soul,
Screwing your mind,
As you follow behind,
Do you scream and shout,
To find a pathway out?







Life laughs a gurgling laugh

Admiring its attire in the life-size mirror

Wielding an untamed bow

Firm grip on the riser

Of a gleaming white titanium

The curved limbs

Bolted to the ornate ends

With a definite certainty

As the ruthless cold of steel string

Is pulled taut with determined vigour.

An arrow fits easily

Ramrod straight with feathers

Plucked from rotting carrion birds

A golden arrow snatched

From Cupid’s flowery quiver

Leaving the love-god to quiver away to death.

The hunter laughs a victorious laugh

As life lies still

Consciousness eclipsed by a shadow of oblivion

And the mirror cracks with a resounding crackle

Ominously shattered

Thousand shards of glass lie scattered

Reflecting thousand golden arrows of the sun.







Those tentacles have taken hold of me

I flounder and struggle to keep afloat

With head held just above water

I give life to a torturous ode.

Deeper into the quagmire, the wild weeds entice

A lotus folds its petals, trapping exploring limbs inside

Overhanging boughs of wizened trees rake my upturned face

In the writhing throes of creation, I straighten the twisted lies.

Between the miasmic plains and myth-infested forest

This marsh has been the grave for many muse lovers

They hang on to frail roots, unwilling to be prey

Yet destined to be swallowed by mires of churning whey.

Open- jawed alligators sniff at ornate poetic skulls

Gazing fascinated-at fools who brave a dip into hell!







I have waded through several rivers

And several skies have I skimmed

To catch between the thumb and finger

That moment the eyes brimmed-

With a million starlit nights

A million suns had shone

To light a wisp of a day

You caught the lights in a fishnet

And sprinkled them in the bay

But now the light has faded

The million novas are jaded

And I close my empty fists

To gather in their dark confines

The stories of stars,

And a million lighted mists

When you come into my world again….

When you swim past the rivers

When you fall in flakes from the skies

I shall find you again

With a clover in hands

Greening my nights

Becoming the sanguine blood drops

That traverse my body beat

In dizzy circles

I’ll claim my light

Your haloed messages

This millionth night…………







Put up in a world of aliens,

I look up to this world naive,

wishing to be less gullible,

in this cave.

Not knowing whom to trust,

I plunge into a thought ,

making my mind rust.

Away from the warmth of comfort,

longing for a glimpse of my imaginary world,

a heat radiates through my heart,

and spread all over my part.

In the appearance of external silence,

there is an epic internal violence ,

of whom to trust?

The violence turns into an unknown pain,

creating a weight in my mind.

Your world revolves around your own survival,

so I hope someone to come to my revival.

The hope is fading,

and I am aging.

Unable to think and move,

I feel for my wasted move.

My heart aches and tears ,

embraces the brave mind.

and forces to flow with the wind.

A soft tender hand sweeps the tear,

like a soft petal near the ear.

To look for “the one” my vision

clears to find my answers to my mission.

On looking the world turns around,

and I found my ground.

My “trust” was right below my wrist,

which is ready to work as my fist.

What I was looking for was,

in me, within me and on me

My helping hand!

The hand said trust thy self,

then the world will thrust,

the trust in  you upon others.







If I could have
I’d have been a bird !
Wings spread out
soaring high
Limitless sky stretched ahead
Thrill of the air
beneath me !
Taut with excitement
Every cell tingling with
fear of the
unknown…… unexplored !
I : Pulsatingly alive …
Gliding ….. Floating…… Sailing
Lyrically …… Joyously !
Like a ballerina
in a perfect poise … balance….rhythm…..flow
in absolute unison with the wind …
the moment’s perfection
suspended in ecstasy
A flash of the Divine !

If I could have
I’d have been a flute !
Multitude of melodies
locked in my heart
craving to be released !
Pining for the
ambrosiac feel of those lips
breathing love into me !
Thawing me ….
making me come alive
Lips which would
woo me …… cajole me……. tease me !
Aching for the touch of those magical fingers
soft and supple …
fingers , which would
bewitchingly embrace me….
caress my contours
lovingly … firmly …
search me …. explore me
with passion and desire
joy and intensity
discover notes … I’d never known…
building up a crescendo
And all my strains…..
all my music ….
inside the lifeless bamboo wall
shall explode out
in a sublime symphony !

If I could have
I’d have been a brush !
Infinite colours
raging in my heart !
Myriad hues
churning inside me like waves !
swelling……leaping……Gushing over
dreaming…… lusting
agonizing for an image
a form !
A brush , which would
with it’s clear, definite strokes
a soft , tender touch
a fine muted graze ….
reveal all the
unuttered……unexpressed ….. inarticulate !

But ….
the Maker had decided
none for me !
Neither …
the gay abandon …
the exhilaration of an unrestrained flight !
the euphoria of melodies !
nor the kaleidoscopic bliss of
colours flowing on my canvas !
or raptures undefined !
So He created me a ‘Woman’ !
A woman …
with all of these longings simmering inside
A woman who yearns for all….
The bliss of the flight …
the joy of the wings …
the ballet with the wind in perfect symmetry and unison …
both two … yet One !

A woman ….
hugging the anguish of a million melodies
locked inside ….
aching to be released !
agonizing for a feel….. a touch
a breath that would
kiss life into life !

A woman ….
with colours like molten metals
bubbling inside her crucible of desires !
Raving….storming…..howling inside
bleeding over …
Infinite hues
aching for strokes …
that would sing and cry
smile and weep ….
A woman ..
hungering for the explosion
of all the pent up inside !

The Maker made me a woman !
Who’s all …… yet none !
Who’s a reflection ….. an echo of…
a restlessness !
a seeking !
and desires unfulfilled !!!







I could sit and cry

about step-mom misfortune

or heave long sighs

for step-sisters importune

but sitting by the cinders

alone every eve

I decided with

Fairy good luck

My fortune

I’ll weave.

So mice-eaten books

became horses for my dreams

and a pumpkin-pie recipe

my sustenance means

One day I sold a pie

In a palace like bakery

But step-mom misfortune

Couldn’t shy from her treachery

She made me forget

To carry a mark of reference

Now how would prince fortune

Mark his preference

But luck shined brightly

As the prince was persistent

No one but only me

He was quite insistent!

The slipper shaped pie mould,

I had hurriedly left back

The prince knew

Only I had a pair and

He followed that track

From house to house they searched

And finally found me

Today with my prince I live

And we run the Palace bakery!







Fields of emerald green

and blue amazing seas

my spirit saw

when I met my dream

Root in the Earth

I caught the breath of Nature

Wave of the Ocean

I listened to the voice of Universe

And finally my soul

could fly so free

over all fears and sorrows

towards endless skies


Happy I felt inside

and peaceful

all around

‘cause I picked up

the flower of life

in that unforgettable moment

when I met my dream





©  2012  DiAnne Ebejer
I want to soar high
above woven clouds of cotton,
Where angels faintly sing
lullabies of joy,
And echo’s cry out
from a cradle of love,
Where happiness is pulled
from the sky
like cotton candy,
The angels always spinning
more and more.
©  2012  DiAnne Ebejer



 Over months now
Since I retired from a hyper active Army job
Commanding and training men
While all my basic chores were
Well taken care of
Despite the mental tuning
I did for months
It does come across as a shock
To run, not supervise
A home, if it is one
Peopled by my girls
And my scoundrel of a dog, Adolph
I had no need earlier
To know what milk or veggies cost
Damn, I didn’t even know
From where they are bought
I am also learning
That my house maid is as close
To God
Since I can’t cook for nuts
My morning prayers
Commence with wishing
The Goddess graces my home
With her benign presence
When the kids are away to school
I halfheartedly search
For a new job
Deep inside dismayed
By the chasm between
My market value
And actually doing
What I want
I want to write
Just write for myself
And manage my girls
Frankly I am happy with
The rewards
Of my present job
That pays in kind
Words of appreciation
From across the globe
People who don’t know me
But love my unpretentious verse
Adolph’s good morning
Lick on the face, wakeup call
The smiles in my daughters’ eyes
Worth a million bucks
Hmm! Last night I bumped my toe
Tripping over Adolph while hurrying
To get to the door
And was amazed to see Khushi
My little one, run and fetch first aid
Dressing up the wound
With her little hands
She lectured, “Why are you always dreaming
Can’t you look down where you walk?”

How do I tell her?
I have always walked that way
As if in trance
Unmindful of the bumps
And the wounds

It is the reason
I have thick toes
That competes with hooves
Ah! The feet of an Infantry man
Damn, heart never hardens
Well so be it!

Some lessons are oft repeats
Never learned!
Blood invariably clots
It is feelings that never heal
No matter how much
I cloak them up
With time and space

The only cure for
A cancerous limb
Is surgically severing it away

While my credentials speak
Of managing pools of human resource
I am pretty happy just managing my kids

While my resume boasts of administration
And facility management skills
I have no qualms in learning from disasters to
Distinguish what not to mix among linen
While laundering soiled clothes

While my profile speaks volumes
Of training and developing men
Into mean fighting machines
Infusing morale being the final key
I am immensely pleased
Reinventing fables to teach morals
To my kids

I stoically weather the storms
Of my teenaged elder one
Praying the younger one
Never grows up

Ah! Reminds me of the
Art of bonsai
If one could do
Bonsai on kids

Keep them little
And innocent forever

Then, the horror of the idea
Strikes me hard
Damn! Such a Jekyllian thought!

I used to love bonsai decades back
Till Jacob, my bio teacher
Showed me the truth
Stunting the growth of a tree
To adorn your home
Is like clipping wings
Of a bird that must
Spread its wings and kiss the skies

I grudgingly make peace
With my lack of material ambition
As I build into my reservoirs of patience
Tackling my teenage elder girl
And bask in the sunshine
Of the unadulterated love
Of my younger one

I am on course
To defy the Godly tagging of moms
As best parents
I may not be the best
But I am not giving in yet
Or ever!
And I actually love it!
Parenting is an awesome job
So why only must mums!




I set the alarm to be up on time,

else will be late and  have to pay a fine.

But the night seems so long with noises in my head shouting,

“Why I am in this mess???”…..my innocent questions mounting.

I am scared to tell Mommy or Daddy,

probably even they will not understand my state of misery.

Everyone at school is so naughty and cheerful,

but I stand to gain is only a piece of earful.

For I cannot even read a poem in the class correctly,

I stammer and speak with real difficulty.

My only friend Harry also laughs and mimics me,

ridiculing me in front of everybody.

So, here I stand in front of the mirror,

struggling to read a line in between my tears.

I really don’t want to go to school, making myself  clear,

they will shame me again is my most dreaded fear.

But am I not a smart and good painter, they say!!!,

then why for my unfortunate vocab is this huge price I pay???

Tomorrow is the Reading Session at school,

where all have to recite aloud as per the rule,

I know I will teased and am already sleeping in fright,

Please God, I trust in thee, only you can make the things alright!!!







Don’t dream of me
not in your sleep-dreams
not in your day-dreams
as if you do
you will be restless
forever seized
by delusions endless.

Don’t dream of me
not in your sleep-dreams
not in your day-dreams
as if you do
you might forget
that nothing is
as it seams.

Don’t dream,
don’t ever dream of me
or my homeland of Never-land
as if you do, your nights
will be filled with madness
and your days full of darkness.






Santosh Akhilesh , Bangalore , India

Walking on the moon, defying gravity and all the rules.

In the company of vast emptiness,

talking to each other over silence between us.

Admiring and cajoling , exploring the new found ardor.

Thin air passing around giving me much needed fervor.

Deafening silence soothing my heart

like country music playing inside a chariot of bliss.

I walk miles aimlessly,

admiring the darkness around me.

There is a light in my soul that has never been so bright guiding me to this unknown terrain.

There is no thirst to quench and no crime to commit.

The sheer power of emptiness giving me elusive nirvana.

I look at dark skies beneath,

a blue giant lights away trembling and shouting aimlessly.

Making all kinds of noises like a snoopy drum.

There is nothing else that matters but the sound of silence.


I continue to moon walk warbling on the music of emptiness.

Santosh Akhilesh , Bangalore , India





Sometimes words cut into you
with the cold precision
of a physician’s blade,
painless yet painful.
The hurt slithers in leisurely
as you awaken
from the chloroformic sleep.
Etherous naiveté turns lecherous
in its unassuming etiquette.

Sometimes words stab you
…from behind
taking you unawares
leaving you too wounded
and weaponless to retort.
The therapeutic sutures
take time to heal,
yet scars remain
to nurse your pain.

Sometimes words are sugar-coated
making you reel
in their syrupy charm.
Basking in the illusory saccharine;
you, a mere cotton candy
puffed with porous pride,
become a dessert for others to relish,
oblivious, it is you
who turns diabetic.

Those shapeless, soundless ones
are the most fatal,
they distance you by their mere silence.
The knells and tolls heard
only from within
swell to a malignant mass
leaving cancerous carcasses
to mourn the death
of a life long bond.








Where is –

my world of dreams?

T’was a kite,

flying higher and higher bold

Beyond the horizon.

‘Sit controlled ?

by the mere press of a button.

Come- my Lil Bo peep

But alas, you are morphed!

And Ba,ba the Black sheep

scanned gray,

in a printout

which as time passes, fades away.

Withhold unreal classics

no longer told

Behold bona fide stories

being sold.

In a  world whose leaders

are Logic and Right,

Mary to her little lamb,

has no copyright.

Pirated, pilfered Hey Diddle-Diddles,

we have reached the precipice

where life’s no longer a riddle.

Toddlers  have all the answers to win,

No kidding ”Who killed Cock Robin?”

Fantasy in fiction figures as signs,

Only do fairness ads echo these lines:

“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall,

Who is the fairest of us all?”

I wait for the postman,

but how can I so apprehend

when I know-

the joy of waiting’s ,come to an end.

I reach letters, before they reach me .

PageUp, Page Down, Enter

Graphics Little Boy blue,

Windows green, toned Riding Hood Red…

There was an Old Woman, Who Lived in a Shoe

And now in an old-age home,if not dead.

Even the colourful pages have vanished!

Only virtual heathers…

Nowhere-shall I place,

my peacock feather?






© Gorakhnath Gangane, India

Those kissable flowerssit on the red radiant sun-  I die of sunstroke -where -from you caught the dew inside it.Silken, woolen, two moonsparted with the warm spring.Dew, dew, the red dewteasing me to accelerating my thirst.No longer  am I normal.Feel like turning the dew intohot water.© Gorakhnath Gangane, India


Laura C. LaVeglia

There is beauty inside portrait of life
The window opens eye to nature
Berries are twinned so delicately resting upon pine
Invisible force creates boughs to sway
Atmosphere is grey and thick
Rain just waiting to dance once again
Smells are hidden away
There a penetrating force that houses
Carpet of autumn kaleidoscope buries emerald hues
Occasionally orchestrated dances, entertains, and delights
Birds soar like hot air balloons
The hawk is so high melting into sky
There is ugliness, yes!
Undesirable quickly masked by euphoric view
The dead summer’s plants hang tight
Winters creatures snuffing out brightness
Tears creating new ponds for rebirth next year
There they are!  Can you see them?
Swans gracefully dancing a minute
The window has brought the crippled woman hope
As she pondered to herself…………..
I may not have the legs I once had
That’s okay!
But never take my eyes!
Do you hear me
Please don’t take the eyes!
Laura C. LaVeglia



Nothing ends
Nothing stays
Each end
Promises new beginning
And each beginning
Promises new end.

End of shore
Promises beginning of the sea
And beginning of the sea
Promises another shore.

Dawn of night
Promises beginning of new day
And beginning of new day
Promises another night.

Each fetus delivered
Promises beginning of new life
And beginning of each new life
Promises grave some day.

Nothing ends
Nothing stays
Each end
Promises new beginning
And each beginning
Promises new end.


Michele Baron, Rabat, Morocco

If my eyes looked at you

with kiss written in them,

would you?

If my arms reached for you

singing hold me close,

would you?

If the whisper please,

from all my being,


between my lips,

would you?

Michele Baron, Rabat, Morocco


Angel Meredith
Burleson, TX USA

The penitent man

Has a heavy heart

Comes to you

On knees and hands

Before you lie

The penitent man

The penitent man

Sorrow wrapped

Around his neck

Ever tightening

Like a noose

The penitent man

The penitent man

Begging your pardon

With head bowed

Lips to your feet

An unworthy kiss

The penitent man

The penitent man

Consolation no reward

Without forgiveness

Remorse and shame

My unclean garments

The penitent man

 Angel Meredith
Burleson, TX USA




By: Sobia Izhar (RIGHTEOUS FOOL)
Islamabad, Pakistan
Sadness is a beast
that lurks in the shadows
of the thoughts
that you pen down.
Sadness is a beast
to be fed, with songs
drenched in lonesome tunes
that flows down your cheeks.
Sadness is a beast
that rambles about
with Mistress Misery
in the solitary passages
leading to your heart.
Sadness is a beast
in guise of a masquerader
mumming a tale called Life.
Sadness is a beast
that knows no restraint;
unbridled, unbowed.
Set it free
Set yourself free!
By: Sobia Izhar  (RIGHTEOUS FOOL)
Islamabad, Pakistan


 Neha R. Srivastava

Hold that tears in your eyes for I
Am not dead yet,love me for the
Last time, its your last chance to
Get angry on me,hug
Me tight and let me
Die in your arms
For I need
Strength to

 Neha R. Srivastava


Kelly Roach    Cornwall Ontario Canada  2O12
Today it is with great ,honour
I pay hommage  you to a fellow poeter  Barry Mowles
 through  publishing our works of poetry  you have  given us  writers  hope and opportunity  ,   your poems alone have been  readings ,remarkably .  This i take through time out to say  ,  you changed the writing business ,from being lonely , to being   one  happy and sucessfully  ,  people  readers and writers  ,,cheer you be the guy  ,   can see  it be with , good reason why ,   it be thier way , of   thanks   seeing the writing world in a light  differently ,    one of  not  having to feel lonely , instead sharing a  God given talent ,, with the world out there today  ,!
Kelly Roach    Cornwall Ontario Canada  2O12


  Nipaporn Baldwin

He swung his baton swiftly in his hand

He made music with those fingers every night

Pages and pages of symphonies and music,

All welded into the perfect ninth phase

Born in Bonn, and made exodus to Vienna,

He and Joe studied the musical notes and all they formed

Deafness handicapped his ears yet he held dedication to those notes

With Quill in hand he would create

Sonatas cascaded inside his mind

The orchestra in his heart was a beautiful beast ready to be unleashed

Years of melodious passion paved way for a reputation

Though he could not hear the thundering applause, he continued on to write and create

The last of the five kept him at peace

From Diabelli to the beautiful Missa and the infamous Nine

The last concert on the twenty-forth day

Had meager money to pay and low expectations

The last he completed was the Thirteenth Quarter

For danger struck in the form of a virus

As the pounding thunder and rain beat down upon the palace like a dragon with rage, he felt his life slip away

Pity, pity—too late! Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est, for in heaven I shall hear.

Nipaporn Baldwin




Angela Helene’ Summers-Woodle Sponseller

Help I am lost can you not see

I am lost beyond what should be

My soul is gone

Heart is broke

My will has left me

I am nothing can you not see

Why has this happen to me

Can you not tell me please

I am tired of crying

I am tired of feeling as i am dieing

Tired of shouting in the middle of a crowded room and yet no one hears me

What must I do

In order to be found

Must I jump a bridge

Or out of a plane

Light a house on fire

Burn myself to the ground

Stick a gun to my head

Or knife at my throat


Will you help me please

Is it to much to ask

Is it to much to do

If it was you I do it for u


At last u are not me and I am not u

I am lost can u not see me

I am cold now

It getting dark

I can not hear anything

I guess this is the end for me

I will not cry no more

I will not shout no more

I have jumped the bridge

And out the plane

I have set that house a blaze

And I have burn myself to the ground

In one hand the gun is to my head and the knife is at my throat


the gun ring out in the night

I Am not lost no more

U am now just gone

to little too late was for me

U did not see me

U did not save me

I am nothing but a distance memory

I am gone….

Angela Helene’ Summers-Woodle Sponseller

copy write-2-2012-ahsws-B-SAW-company-2012

live is what u make it! a life without true friend is no life.. i am true .. i am what u see, what u get! can u say the same???




Archie Narayan (India)













Archie Narayan (India)




Laura C. LaVeglia
Autumn was here with whirling leaves dancing on pavement
You could feel winter approaching with teeth of wind
An exceptional baby was born leading the world with kindness
Her milk will feed nature learning their language as comrade grew
She stood in the middle of crossroads east, west, north, and south
Confusion branded bull’s eye with tip of hot poker
But the human race was bitter to a young girl, tongue as cutting as a whip
Tears befit meandering rivers, gliding along with graceful swans
Mirroring the ugly duckling children’s story was a comfort
And the woman cried and oh how she cried
Remembering the knife in the throat making her feel like a lonely street urchin
Riding on waves became a comfort level and a meaning in life
Many years countable in decades, seen many moons
Mind of women ready to greet, for the hibernating bear awoke with a bellow
The air was not yet crisp and clear, but swirling fog that took years to climb
An abrupt startle caused the meeting of the way
Clarity and colors too bright to stare and she was careful not to
Be careful of what you wish as fruition might show its face
You may see a beautiful countenance now, but if you look too hard…..
The ocean is death threatening in her midnight rendezvous
Heart stopping cortex’s of sea shells at her beckon call
Now cerulean blue lagoons laced at her ankles as sting rays played
It took too long, and too far, but there is land that holds true
Now her fruit sits on top of the apple tree
Does not need to hang on precariously
They hung me on a hook
They still bear the disfigurement, but I don’t have a mark
Laura C. LaVeglia


Damon D.Dukes

Fourth and inches
what are you going to do
the game is on the line
it’s all on you
you led your team so far
and helped them through and through
your whole offense is getting tired
but you know God’s got you
you’re looking nervous because you ran out of timeouts
your coach is sweating so hard he’s about to fall out
we have a lot of “fourth and inches” in our lives
we have to keep fighting for every stride
we know it gets hard at times
but we have to suck it up and swallow our pride
we know that our Christian walk isn’t easy
but God motivates us now that’s pleasing
so its fourth and inches will you run for glory
or will you be stopped short and be just another sad story

from the unique mind of
Damon D. Dukes




Fabianna S. Washington
i look into your eyes and cannot look away, they hold me captive, they see into the depths of my very soul… the secrets i hold, no longer my own. your voice, the very sound a lullaby, i am transfixed. your words, a echo of my own thoughts. a dream you must be, for you cannot exist. you are but a figment, a ghost of past loves and forgotten dreams, a whisper in my ear. my eyelids flutter as i reach for you, the one that never was. You take my hand, I look into your eyes, captive once again. The ending yet unwritten.

Fabianna S. Washington




((Time is just an excuse))
Cassandra Fraga
Washington, USA
I rush…
Into the bitter disdainful face of time dipping its rain on my horizon
With ire standing out in a reedy smile… it waits not.
Spanning the distance between the sea and sky
My fingertips quiver as I trace the drips and drops hushing the cruelty in its sounds
Harsh whisper-
“I am still afraid… but I refuse to let you defeat…”
Cassandra Fraga
Washington, USA




@Denise-Marie Fisher  2012



Poison pen, dry ink well, story to tell.
Trepidation, hesitation…fingers
fumbling like a drunken juggler.
Palpable enigma, stodgy resolve;
prayers form as the corners of my mouth bend,
an indoctrinated response to stress.

Suppressed memories breaking barriers
before explanations: damage control.
Trigger point therapy, twitchy fingers..
and the rhapsody lingers – against breath.
Protecting truths,  echoing promises
canted before tutors and trusted scribes.

This continuous line of perfect words
rambles on in metered measured iambs.
Readers skip the breaks; transgress meaning
as their eyes peruse stacked lines in search of
something relatable to embrace them.
A subjectively doomed relationship.


@Denise-Marie Fisher  2012





Bob Strum


The moving finger had a way

Of saying things, spreading the news.

It used to write upon a wall.

It said the empire would fall.

A war the emperor would lose.

The Medes would win the war that day.

The emperor was not concerned.

A writing finger was absurd.

Perhaps he’d had too much to drink.

He was confused and could not think

The idea never had occurred,

His kingdom would be overturned.

A drunken ruler, overjoyed

Until his kingdom was destroyed.

Iraq, Iran it’s all the same.

The threat today is Teheran.

The vitriol, which they have hurled.

Against the Jews, against the world

An evil festers in Iran.

A monster that the world must tame.

Atomic weapons built in haste,

Designed to lay the world in waste.

So, where are they? I look around

No moving fingers to be seen.

No one can find a single Mede.

Surely the heavens sense our need.

The palace walls are all quite clean.

Why is it God cannot be found?

We need a finger, which can stress

The Medes will clean up all the mess.

Bob Strum





Taseer Gujral

Ahmedabad, India

Yesterday ended like all days

I cleared the table

did the dishes

yawned the tired kitchen light to rest.

Listened like a good parent

to the kids’ incessant prattle

(They are lively as polly parrots

even at this hour)

Tucked them in cozy layers

with goldilocks and three bears

while the tired conditioner whirred……

the singed air into somnambulant waves

Glad that the day was over

i slipped beneath the satiny sheets

with my love..mon cher-

my poetry book authored by

the latest nobel laureate

i like the way his images connect life

to the mysteries of the universe.

With the advent of the midnight hour

Sleep exercised an unwieldly power

over eyes still unsatiated………….

Yesterday ended like all days,

but today began differently

I soared on the winter’s first snowflakes

into an unknown sky where sun had dimmed

beyond recognition

a polar translucence reigned the landscape

i swear i even saw a pair of reindeers

riding a sledge

and a mistletoe on a snowcovered cottage door

(Christmas is a-coming you see

and i might have thought myself to believe)

and now i stand before a white door

Perhaps a cold snow-whitened door

And this door,will you believe

stood on its own…floating on clouds !

and then curiosity killed the scene

as no longer able to contain

my wonder

i peeped out of my sleep

and a rainbow did creep


of that snow kissed door

Never to return……………

Oh! woebegone wretch

Why did you stretch

your wonder so much ?

The rainbow fled from touch

of the real

my lucid dream…my christmas dream



and now dread…!!!

as i smelt the air conditioned waves

The morning dawned

like mornings all

magnificent in its pink beauty

marked by some grey blobs

and as the day progressed

into its noonish sloth

They swelled and clumped

and it rained like never before

the weather like never before….




And then i saw it……..!

it started prancing stealthily

over the day’s last remnants

and marked

its trail in an arc

and at the end of it

i saw clearly,dear friend

your breath you must hold

my dream pot of gold.

** ( A lucid dream is a dream in which one is aware that one is dreaming. The term was coined by the Dutch psychiatrist and writer Frederik (Willem) van Eeden (1860–1932). In a lucid dream, the dreamer can actively participate in and manipulate imaginary experiences in the dream environment. Lucid dreams can seem real and vivid. The experience of being in a lucid dream clearly demonstrates the astonishing fact that the world we see is a construct of our minds. This concept, so elusive when sought in waking life, forms the basis of spiritual teachings. It forces us to look beyond everyday experience and ask, “If this is not real, what is?”)

Taseer Gujral

Ahmedabad, India






I close my eyes, on a journey into the night I must now embark;

Verses flowing through my mind,

As I surrender to the dark.

When I dream my angels introduce me to the dead;

I see my Nan walking through the clouds, as subconscious memories unlock from deep inside my head.

I try to speak but my mouth is glued shut, that is why I use this ink to talk;

The mist clears uncovering the heaven’s, as across the clouds my angels walk.

They have a silent smile that speaks a thousand words, so this is where we come when we die;

I hear my Nan’s voice echo,

“In heaven’s dictionary there is no such word as goodbye”.

I see her point her finger towards the ground, as a voice behind me whispers for me to look;

I glance down from the heaven’s to see myself sleeping in my bed, and in my hand sits this poetry book.

I start to sink back through the clouds, as I see my bright white angels standing tall, whispering their goodbye;

I slip through the clouds, and the second before I wake, I feel my body tumbling helplessly through the sky.








I lay in the silent darkness using a piece a paper for a pillow, this pen in my hand as I drift off into the night;

The darkness consumes me as I begin to sleep as I write.

A distant sounding phone rings, so I pick it up answering “who is it”;

A voice echoes back down the line “its god, and I’ve come down just to visit”.

A ghostly arm reaches through the phone as the voice whispers “please take my hand, it will stop you from your fall;

For years you have screamed into the darkness, and now it’s time for me to finally answer your call”.

I am watching over you now as you sleep, your hand is working in partnership with this pen;

In your prayers you always ask if you are going to make it, well my answer is not IF but WHEN.

Don’t worry about your Nan & Granddad they are still watching over you with so much pride;

Years ago I said you would make it, and I was right, as your pain finally did subside.

I don’t know how you did it but your poetry reached up to the heavens, we now even have a bookshelf in the sky;

Your verses can produce such emotion, until now I never knew that even angels can cry.

You do have a guardian angel, in fact your Nan is watching over you right now as I speak;

She is singing you a lullaby as tears roll down your cheek.

I watch your doubters laugh behind your back, jealousy is such a cruel human trait;

But please ignore those lost souls, as only I wrote your destiny and fate.

Your future will come all in good time, but sometimes you need to stop and look back, you have come a long way, but I don’t think you appreciate just how far;

You were born to write these verses, just as you were always destined to be a star.

I have watched over you your entire life, it has been like witnessing a star being born;

It’s nearly time for me to leave, as the night sky starts making way for the dawn.

So I guess this is goodbye for now, but I will always be listening each time that you pray;

Open your eyes now my child its morning, and just trust whatever this pen has had to say.








Wooden hands creek as they grow, these puppet strings control my movements, as my reflection now resembles a toy;

Each day I only ever have just one wish, and that is to be a real boy.

Society telling me I am not normal, I have pieces of me which are now broken beyond repair;

My shiny button eyes now hide my emotions,

So why do people always have to stare?

I may have wooden ears, but I can still hear my sculptured mahogany heart beating, as it splinters through my dreams;

A dusty pile of shavings is all that now blows out with my screams.

I am expected to grow, because deep down I am a tree;

Through the window I see children playing, whilst I just sit on this shelf being me.

I wish I was normal, I wish I had eye lids as sometimes the suns reflection is just too bright;

If I was born, then can I die?

And just who taught this wooden hand how to write.

When I shave I use sandpaper, when I cry all you will see is the dust;

The hinges holding my joints together are starting to creak with the rust.

I am the wood that holds your pencil, encased around this lead;

A lifetime full of broken promises are now carved out as memories through my head.

I see people walking by my window every day, hiding under their umbrellas from the rain;

People just use me to fuel their fires, and I always react just like a moth to the flame.

People judge me for being different, I see that same dust each time that I bleed;

Can a puppet really have ambition?

As all I want to do is succeed.

When it’s dark my reflection shines back through the window, unveiling the tears of a clown sliding down this broken toy;

If I had a fairy godmother I would only ever have just one wish, and that is to be a real boy.







Tunde Dike – Nigeria, Africa

A rose protected by cherubs
Dwelling in the next door
Early morning salutes
Naked gums when laughing
Love through his eyes….
Buying my whispers with attentiveness
The smiles of full moon
Reflecting the brighter side
Best friend on dried days
Reminds me of the father’s day
Hopefully one day…..somehow.

Tunde Dike – Nigeria, Africa




Iulia Gherghei – Romania
I am just a drifter soul

above the waters I do stretch

absorbing all the whispers’ mist

I am drowning into the whole horizons

I am just a breeze that winds

and blows away a dandelion,

a game of ” hide and seek”

I am just a drifter soul

that is why my bones don’t hurt me any more

Off I go, don’t stay to rest

a godly body is my quest

I am just an anonymous god

a dazzled wanderer

bewitched by greenish seas of dust…

Iulia Gherghei – Romania




Like the final teardrop from the eye,
The effusing darkness from the sky,
The iridescent rainbow fading from the azure,
The immortal soul leaves the body to wither…

The soul remains, The body withers.
Memories to be cherished ever, The shadow is lost forever…
Blood of the mortal, when he is dead,
Is guzzled by the fire on the pyre bed….

And when the corpse is buried by the river,
And when comes the eternal call,

Ah Death!!That begins all the ends,
And brings eternal sleep from the blissful skies,
Is not immortal to my shrewd eyes,
For “DEATH DIES” when the mortal dies….

When Death dies, The awe to die terminates,
The incessant battle with life culminates.
A glittering dawn of another life begins,
That is liberated from every vice and sin….






Ann carruth donoghue, Ireland

Past the witching hour she sits with weary head,
contemplating lonely hours,lying in her empty bed,
no warm body,no lovers touch,
no anticipation,in advance of pleasures rush,
mocking silence no muted sighs,
empty arms that crave a soft caress,
heaven mirrored in a lovers eyes,
a touch that feels familiar,
hot urgent breath upon her face,
hands shedding clothes and inhibitions,
greedy for that first familiar taste,
giving and taking,thirsting and slaking,
overpowering all resistance with a gentle stroke,
scaling walls,bursting dams,
building fires of ice and smoke,
she sits alone,shadows dance i the fire,
a poet,a dreamer,a figment of her own desire….

Ann carruth donoghue, Ireland




Jayeeta Ghosh

The night is so dark, my dreams that embark,

I love to laugh, my heart allows,

I sipped and drank milk, gowned in red silk,

I caressed my hair and wallowed.

I tossed and reposed, my heart that proposed,

I engrossed my happy moods,

The end of the day, looked full and so gay,

The birds left for home and broods.

I missed and so kissed, my heart felt so blessed,

The list of my fun endless,

Peeping through flicks, or taking new clicks,

Reflects the mood on my face.

I sit on the chair, blushing and fair,

Thinking of you and me,

Dreaming my dreams, with you it so seems,

I live a life full of blue sea.

I play my guitar, starring a star,

Limelight as though on me,

Cooking good food, fancy imbued,

Such small things can make me happy.

I looked at the sky, the stars winked by,
The bliss of the night’s upon,
I smiled in my heart, that no one can hurt,
The moon shone the night, she frowned.
I wish me goodnight, and let me sleep tight,
And dream a sweet dream ever,
The dark and despair, vanish to fair,
Promise, you’ll forget me never.

You leave or love me, or set me carefree,

I still will sail ahead and live,

Nothing gets stopped, nor even is cropped,

Life moves on that I believe.

Jayeeta Ghosh




Nandini Garg
Haryana, India

The gargantuan commotion,
contusions, and rugged muscles-bones
The liquid plasma that shoots out
from unlocked and unbar lesions
The suturing necessary
to heal the wounds.
In any wise this can be over-much
The corner to angle bends
in which one competes.
The startling cliffs
at which one turns out.
I even now adjudicate
to jeopardize my memoir
On the lark
it senses so licensed.
It’s a hurry scurry
to discover and pick up the clamor.
From the rooters and lovers
that crave for once anon.
One energizes oneself
to the terminus ad quem
For the hell of it
One desires to attain victory in it.
To pursue the accusation and excitement
Abstaining from the drugs
The fixtures, the gears,
the belongings that deprive
Others opt and shoot
to fume off
In case anyone can palpate
eminent and dominating all day
I equitably drive
the ballers and the replicates
This gleans me altudinous
and towering
than with everyone else
I grasp and comprehend
of it being sporty
but I love to recreate
since, SPORTS is also a way of life.

Nandini Garg
Haryana, India





As the flames die slowly with the night,

Extinguishing the day

Smoke silhouetting through the quiet air

Taking shape  of snapshots

Of memories, not long forgotten,

Igniting sweet desires instead;

Of candles burning every night

And romance in the atmosphere;

The scent of rare patchouli

Teasing in the shadows;

Nostrils slightly flared.

Soft rock music fills

The gaps between silent knowing glances

Mismatched glasses toasting

Filled with cheap Chianti

As the bottle gathers wax.

Cracker crumbs fall in between

Well-worn cushions of the couch.

Baby-doll pyjamas barely

Bothering to cover.


The night falls inaudibly.

Stealing eyes’ content and gentle smile

Baccarat crystal shattering

Falling from her fragile grip,

Onto the shining marble floor

Mimicking a blood bath

Is Châteauneuf-de-Pape.

Slumped in true abandon

Of this life she’s earned to live

Returning to her heart’s true love

If only in her vivid final dream…

Lasting an eternity

Meeting her rebirth

Embossed upon her soul

As the next life starts de novo

And the flame again ablaze.






Rowan Blair Colver

Go to a place that is so different from anything you know yet so safe and familiar

Paint a picture in your mind of a landscape, a dwelling, a place to exist in happiness

Fill the sky with your favourite birds, as many colours and designs as you please

From the ground sprout trees and plants of all sizes

Choose the colours of the leaves, their blossoms and texture

Choose the sound it makes when the wind brushes past these new creations

As the breeze lifts the pollen from the flowers that surround you

Experience the aroma and sensation as their delicate perfumes enter your perception

As you walk, the ground feels soft and warm, the luscious grass grows well up and around your feet

You hear a voice

A familiar voice calling your name

As you turn to see who is calling you

you see a face which brings back all the things that made you happy as a child

All those magical experiences and amazing moments which only a child could fully understand

Are embodied in this person walking over to meet you

As they approach they seem familiar but you cannot place who they are

And then you realise

The person you are seeing

The face which almost brings back the tears of happiness found in fondest memory

Is you

Rowan Blair Colver

(c)2011 Indigo Poet Creations

Taken from Pretty Poems, Meditations and Affirmations




Amy Barry, Ireland
I love how he says my name,
and how he kisses me
on my nose, not my lips,
like the Maoris do,
I want to embrace him,
kiss him gently,
make love to him,
but with this love,
it’s hard to slow down,
to examine the moment,
as if the world shrinks,
to his body, his face,
then his lips,
this wanting, every part
of myself, to be only with him,
the happiness in my soul,
like walking in the garden
in spring, flowers bloom,
the fresh experience
of a love,
Amy Barry, Ireland


Cristen Rovira
How can I fix you,
my dear broken heart?
When your pieces lie scattered,
bloody, and torn apart.
If i glue you back together,
will you just crumble again?
What if I say “I’m sorry,
my poor little heart”
I know I should have never
let him in.
But if you can forgive me,
I promise this time,
wont let him win!
It’ll be just you and me,
Myself and I,
and that’s how it’ll be
till the day that we die.
Cristen Rovira


 Sreeraman Sampath

What is she anyway…..

All ma minds blowing away

How does she matter?

Life has sailed jus a quarter!

Mad as me, one can never be

My world blurs past in your thoughts,

My heart going into parts

As heard from you, was jus…

a “may be”?!

My heart totally abducted,

The proposal kept awaited;

Stranded amidst reality and fantasy

My “Size of d fist”, skips beat

I don care how bad it is….

I jus want to know d truth!

Like a raindrop fallen in woods

Like the black-hole, sucking all it could

So mysterious, So heavy,

My heart!

I punch to the wall, in VAIN!

Stronger we were, I reckoned;

Not anymore! But, again

Want your fingers swept in mine,

It together, remain forever!

I fall for u every time,

Assuming you were mine…

All the hurt, all those pain,

To walls punched in vain!

“I love u”, “I’m yours”

Alas! Pls say it no more,

For once show it…

prove it!

Let me show what u mean to me…

This is the last time,

I give up my heart.

I’m telling you I’m

A broken, who has finally……


Life is short live it full

Nevertheless complete,

As my heart sensing a lull,

Without you, can it be?!

I loved u at once,

I love u still,

I’ll always have, and

I always will!

 Sreeraman Sampath




Amit Kumar Singh

Thoughts flowing through the woven words
Reflected so clearly through the dancing eyes
A life was indeed flowing
Flowing! In between two lives.In the longitudinal expansion and compression
The silent music was vibrating in the mysterious tune
The bonds inside were loosening
And two lives were centering to a new life.In the shadow of love, conversely,
Things become brighter and prettier
In the bond of love, conversely
Souls taste the eternal freedomIn the mirror of her eyes
First time I loved myself so deeply
First time I saw “I” vanishing into “We”
First time I felt a drop mingling into Life-SeaMy hands felt a sudden urge to touch her
I felt to say how amazing, adorable she was
But the touch, the words were so petty
Their worldly touch could defile its sanctityAlas! The night of departure stroked
Ear got deaf and eyes got blurred
It was “Time” who tried to cut the chord
To break the mirror with its mighty sword
I cried oh! Lord
Why did you let me fall in love with her?
If you had to take her away from me
In the reflection of my own sound
I felt her inside my heart
The mirror which I used to hold,
was now dwelling inside my heart.
If Death defines life
Departure derives Love.

Amit Kumar Singh


Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi
Hold me in your arms
I need your warmthMany days flew…
Since I felt your bosom
Those breath which touched my lipsNow,my eyes are wet, and you know
How I broke into pieces…but you didn’t come
I wish that you would have ever read my lips
Now the sun is set, and my heart won’t riseNot many know
When I have become numb
Those breath can not be touched anymoreI need you no more
I can not hold anything
Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi
Faculty, Department of Languages & Literature
Shri Mata Vaishno Devi University
Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi


Rama Krishna Perugu

Time has come for us all to cease
Living like a drop of water
Trickling on a sleek lotus leaf
Rise up friends! Like a Phoenix
Deserting leaders who are at
Converting greens into deserts
Find out the best of the statesman
In the light of your vote-cresset,
One who’s not as fickle as the
Ink-dot on your index finger
That fades away in a day or two
But who stays shining like Sindhoor
On the forehead of our Mother

Telugu Original: Perugu.Ramakrishna,India
Translation: Sathya,Nellore,India




Janne de Rijck (Mary Jane)

Call the doula

This birth will be strenuous

New life is facing the other way

Bring more water

Throats dry up breathing

This baby is not having an easy day

Tiny bullying feet, they tell so.

This child of letters, of thoughts and ideals

The umbilical cord warm throbbing

Is a poem that waits, that waits to be seen

To induct a new life most complex.

Will this baby be bullied

by boys, scholars, socio-therapy?

Will his/her peers let it even begin to see

that good dreams are there for realizing.

Oh mother, he will ask one day

Is the biggest bully not our great expectations?

Janne de Rijck (Mary Jane)




Srinivasan Venkatesan

It was dark really very dark my life just needed something a real spark

As the days passed on so did my life getting crumbled each day by the darkness eating away my life

Life was getting worse and impossible to live

I thought death would be a better option but to survive in this nightmare

Am I being cursed or is it my fate I just kept asking myself as the night passed and came a new frosty day

The night became so cold so cold indeed

I was freezing with no cover, no shelter to live when I need

I wished I were never born than to live this cursed life

I felt like crying so much that it fills the blue sky

A drop of my pain then just smooched the ground I never imagined that my life would turn around

God couldn’t see me cry any more he felt all that pain

He sent an angel for me the one heaven through sent.

The darkness just disappeared and suddenly my life started to glow

I could see the nature so beautiful never I did before

A hand then came onto the ground to lift me up form this death I felt like floating in the air and just telling the devil be scared.

You are my angel my angel heaven through sent

The one for whom I was waiting for from the start of my life till the end

You brought in my life the smile that I had never seen

You changed my life it never had been

You made me cry my sorrow just to fill in happiness

A life such beautiful I never believed it was this fair

You gave me all the comforts that I had never imagined of

You loved me so much and I love you too my love

If I ever pray the I wish it be true

The only wish I will ever ask is that my life to be with you

Let us be tied forever for some risk for wonders yet to see.

For the miracles you brought into my life I owe you a lot indeed

I can’t give you anything special because all I can give is love

I am not brought in a wealthy fashion because I am so poor my love.

If life has to be beautiful it has to be with you indeed

I cannot imagine a life without you because there would be no life to lead

I pray to god I hope he hears

Keep us tied for long let this love continue forever if we are born again my love

I love you from the core of my heart I just love you so much

You are the heart that beats in me you are the one who keeps me live

I love you I love you and that’s the truth

And I really know there would be no one in this world just like me and you.

Srinivasan Venkatesan





My pens asleep I know why.

She denies sleeping by my side,

All though my words still go on ,

She doesn’t go with me along.

Pen for century’s were writers best friends,

their emotions  were copied and all was said,

But now my pen sadly frowns ,

because my computer has the crown.

While I type on my system

she lays by with no restrictions

My thoughts go through this new flow,

my pens so jealous ,she wants to go.

I love her so but she needs t o know,

how hard it is for me to show ,

that my computer has more  glow.

But never will I forget she was essential but that’s not yet

 Although my system has more functions and corrects,

My love forever will be my pen.

I’d love her joyfully until my end.






Debdeep Chakraborty

I wake up and

saw the crow

by my window

steering at me

and cleaning

his beak

watching me

his fast-food

he is waiting

for his mood

I am too


for the day

to change

my life

on my way

to middle-age

dreaming to

be a butterfly

and flew away

as I finished

all the leaves

of my tree

I’m thinking

how he will be


to see

his food

fly away

I’m still


for the day

at my

middle age

waiting like

the crow

waiting for

his mood

Debdeep Chakraborty




 Archna Pant, India

The matrix…..

on a foolscap sheet….

Maze of numerals….

and blanks …

I try to figure out ….


Terrifying numerals…

looming large above…

their hands reaching out..

growing longer..

menacingly ….

their nails digging into my throat….

I run back and forth….

Please let me breathe…

May I step out …just once…

Let me be ……

I cry !

I can’t juggle them…I can’t

( all straight from One to Nine )…

I must

make sense out of..

your prison…

But I’m sorry…

I can’t !

Your Sudoku…

Chokes in on me …

Snuffing out …

my entire Isness…

Archna Pant, India




Dr. Mary Annie A.V.(anna maria)




The raven alights

on my window sill

caws his love for me.

From the kitchen I feed him

With crumbs of  love  undenied.

He feeds on  hungrily, happily 

under my watchful eyes.

He cocks his head

and views me with

 pleasure undisguised.

His eyes like the black bees


my  senses undefiled.

His beak holds

a thousand rhapsodies

that  haunt me in my dreams.

My hidden fount of  longings

I entrust   with him to keep.

As he flutters away

he carries  with him

my soul’s bitter agonies.

His plumes glitter in the sun

hues of  blue black and grey.

My fancies take  a winged unrest 

as I watch him take the flight !

Who knows in his wanderings

he   searches unendingly 

his  soul mate true to find ? 

And one day on the window sill

will bring her  home to me ?


Dr. Mary Annie A.V.(anna maria)




 ALL OF ME (to the one i love)

Dr. Mary Annie A.V.(anna maria)



If I gift you my loneliness

will   you accept

the  bleeding  wounds, the raw hide 

the   pain of it all?

False smiles 

false words

false  me

false  love.

If I gift you my goodness 

will you accept 

love  comfort  unspoken words 

cheer  and be with me content?

Lovely   me

quiet   me 

peaceful   me 

beautiful  me.

If  I   gift you my days

Will you accept

T he emptiness  the glass house dreams

open arms  smile and call  them your  own?

small  me 

subdued  me

sinful  me 

shattered  me.

I f I gift you my nights

 will you accept

 its strangeness  its night mares  sleeplessness

soothe  and stay beside till the night gets over?

Unsure  me

insecure  me 

restless  me

raving  me .

If I gift you my body

will you accept

turbulent   desires  restless waves  passion ridden

will  you accept

take me vehemently  in equal measures?

Teasing   me

flirting  me

sensuous  me 

hungry  me.

I  am gifting you myself

The whole …….  imperfect  me.

Wrapped  for your taking.

Make no more demands!


Dr. Mary Annie A.V.(anna maria)





Harish Srinivasan


At the dawn,

in the time of yawn.

At the dusk,

in the time of rusk.

You are enveloped,

with a gold sheet;

under my feet,

which I dare not beat.

At your beauty bright,

I forget my worst fright.

I lose my sense,

in a fierce tense.

At your sight,

I feel light,

with a mystic chord,

that resonates in me without my bod.

Now, feel like a finished tome,

with an epitome.

I watch you with care,

with only my life as spare.

Oh beauty,

You are a god’s creation,

Without my predation.

Harish Srinivasan




Nalini Priyadarshni

from- India

Lying on my back I often wonder
Where do one cloud end and the other begin?
Where do the river end and sea begin?
Where do spring end and summer begin?
And then
Where do you end and I begin?
Nalini Priyadarshni
from- India



By: Sobia Izhar (Righteous Fool)

Islamabad, Pakistan

Hey you, pen-pusher!

Sitting in your habitual poetic pose,

Are you still trying to win battles

the demons in your head

waged against you?

Your words have poisoned the silence.

Now see the fireworks in the stormy pink sky,

feel the hidden drift in the air,

as we pass through the ripples of madness.

Splashing against my mind,

the posthumous hues

of your tagged thoughts;

painting a vision

that lull my demons to sleep.

 Say, we’ll last winter’s unforgiving nights?

By: Sobia Izhar (Righteous Fool)

Islamabad, Pakistan





Chennai, India


You had the words that animated me from solitude;

You had the arms which I clinched when I felt vulnerable;

You had the shoulders on which I leaned when I needed a backbone;

You had the eyes that gave me the hope of reassurance


And I wish they were mine…


BUT destiny alarmed time to twist and tangle

And the repercussion was reshuffled


You perceived through my convulsively weeping eyes;

You poured out through my stammering, disconnected talk;

My shoulders bore all your onerous vexation;

My hands held you close to my heart and carried you far;

Yet I didn’t feel the pain

We parted

Our laced fingers loosened

The gentle breeze of bleakness blew hard

And shattered my card castle of eternal togetherness

Irony dug my heart as bizarre

And withered it completely into futile fragments


The curtains cascaded down when

You deserted me…


The climax was so deploring and pitiful

So, I made up my mind to prolong it further


Thus, I embarked my journey in the hunt of the expiry of our relationship


It’s high time when I envisage that

This path is not milk and roses;

It’s highly byzantine and tortuous.


My stone-blind eyes could behold nothing but emptiness

My benumbed body could feel nothing but killing frostiness


It seems so endlessly dark and achromatic,

That even my shadow has started to depart…

The word “alone” takes a new and terrible meaning…

“I can’t find you my love…” my heart aches in self-pity

All my grief packed in an insignificant half-decaying shell spills over

and I’m drowning…


This self-torment of infinity persisted

Until I fancied that

I’m sinking into a desolate bottomless sea


Just to become ONE with Thy lonely soul!!!

(the emotional rendering of a solitary girl who is not able to come down to earth because of the death of her true love!

he was her entire world packed in a six feet body with his soul existing solely for her! 

however, the accident he met with, rendered him blind, dumb and paralysed.., so she is the medium of expression for him.

finally destiny decides to take him away from her and he departs…

the girl redefines her destiny through her eternal journey into the dark, deep world beyond death..

the journey continues until her blind eyes feel her soulmate!)



Chennai, India



Gagan Pal Neota

I am not a poet so I am not very good with words,

Therefore help me Oh my readers – to find a voice, which would be clearly heard.

I want to talk about some broken dreams,

Tears shed from the eyes of homeless and the agony of their unheard screams.

I need a song to explain the emotions of a newly wedded wife,

Whose husband is fighting at the fence, on the edge of his life.

I don’t know, how to explain it to an angry brother,

why there is scarcity of resources on one side, while presence of abundance on the other.

I want to narrate how a mother feels,

When she had to walk thousand miles, to feed her child with one time meal

I want to understand can a starving stomach hear words like love and compassion

Can a poet whose ink is dipped in blood; write with comfortable ease about his passion?

Finally ! I want to ask, can we shed our greed to live in unity on the same land under one Sun

Can there be a day when sound of music will echo louder than the sound of Gun?


Gagan Pal Neota



Reena Prasad
(Butterflies of time on Facebook)

Deeper, deeper into the darkness
I walk bewildered yet uncaring,
Lost in an inner maze of hard-earned miseries
Brought on by too much love and sharing
The hanging boughs, the whispering notes
Speak to me as if with hope
The moonlight streams gently down
revealing a wistful path ahead
I gather the cold night around myself
Walking towards the familiar dell.

My impatience rustles the fallen leaves
It is the hour when she must alight
Dropping swiftly from her horse
She emerges from the cloak of night
Running, falling, yet wondering at the sight!
Healing angel of mine, I need your glow
I cannot bear the night within my soul.
There she is! My wisps gather strength again
With her hair sweeping the taupe forest floor
She lights my woods with her blazing flames!

I fall on my knees and fervently pray
Even though she appears not to turn my way
Eyes open never to miss a moment
Of her much needed, gentle, sisterly finesse
The thunderous days that lurked around
Seem mere nights before the day,
freshly breaking ground
She swishes her hair, the clouds disappear
Revealing a Hunter’s Moon in a brave new form
The trees fall silent as she spreads
The scent of roses in my teary abscesses.

And as she mounts her snorting steed
I am still here on my grateful knees
Blowing a soft kiss onto the breeze
She floats up gently till I can no longer see
My bleeding wounds have healed themselves
leaving sweet scars of happy moments
My joy, I can feel it rolling down the hill
As morning comes, you too shall be healed
Flowers are nodding as I pray for you
Their softness wiping my tears always true.

The journey we shared has not been in vain
Self-healing angels still live in bruised heavens.

Reena Prasad
(Butterflies of time on Facebook)



Reena Prasad
(Butterflies of time on Facebook)

Thoughts twirl around like scattered leaves in a storm

Sunbeams stream into monotonous corners of the mind

Lighting up dark recesses, freeing little elves of doubt

Memories awaken, no longer content to remain in cramped boxes of caution.

Little streams make their way, into the confederation of rivers of reason.

The breeze clears up some mists of uncertainties of changing seasons

Unspoken words tumble out of falling bundles stored

in overstuffed cupboards of insecurities.

Yet the sunshine fails to penetrate the rooms where fears lie

Where hopes vie with despair

desperately clawing to keep afloat.

Where unheard whispers fly like bats, cocooned

in the darkness of nights unslept

Where loneliness creates images to which memories cling.

Where the mere shadow of daybreak shatters all illusions.

Never finding the myriad colours of life, hidden under a blanket of dead leaves.

Reena Prasad
(Butterflies of time on Facebook)





Things are when pale , and

                  they get dry,

to even smile , at times

                  your heart may deny,


                  for the reason,

 one day the darkness will die,

                  and the fallen leaves,

would be  replaced by new ones,

                 on the branches, swinging high.

 Everything around here,

               hangs in the string of hope,

without this, neither the unknown future,

               nor the present , have any scope.


                when you don’t get a chance,

 to hear your favorite song,

                when your loved ones,

hurt you , the nights are dark and long.

                For that, you always have

a creation, the best composition of your own,

                and its better to adjust, than

to regret, before the good hearts are gone.


                your way seems to be lost ,covered in mist,

be ready with a open heart and a smile,

                  cos, this life is a short walk of one mile,

too  small , but yes for sure , a priceless gift.






Dr A.V. Koshy, Bangalore, India

This is a see saw.
You got put on.
Now no choice
but to ride it.
When up, enjoy.
When down, wait.
Tomorrow or soon
it has to go up again.
Up, down, up, down.
Tired of it,
but on the see saw
no choice;
till whoever put you
on this ride
takes you off
to make you feel
no longer dizzy.
Dr A.V. Koshy, Bangalore, India.


Sangeeta Suneja

As I crossed the street,

To watch I peeped,

Out of my cars seat,

To smell, listen and see,

A scent of mud,

Celebration flood,

Flights and jumps, a roar of band,

Of small little live dolls,

Street kids jumping in a pit of sand!

Faces, all smiling and smeared,

Dust decorating the gear,

Shoes strewn away, near,

Happiness caressed their bare feet,

Rolling down the dusty mound,

In the arms of mother, nature,

Like a soft ball, set free!

Bruised Elbows and knees,

Did not bother them,

They still rolled, fell, stood up again thereafter,

Torn shirt, tearing shrieks of laughter,

Gaiety, celebration

The only order!

My memories of the days,

Of Such love of simple joys,

Gone by, surface,

To relive those carefree days,

Mind runs back, at what a pace!!

Sangeeta Suneja


Poet Name:  Yaseen Anwer
Place        :  Bangalore, INDIA
Poor boy
For a pice of bread
With hunger.
I feel even I am responsible
I dont know.
Poet Name:  Yaseen Anwer
Place        :  Bangalore, INDIA


Neha Rohra

I cant be separated from you for oft has your insensitivity lived as a tear in my eyes
and mine in yours
I cant be separated from you for oft your concern has been a smile on my lips
and that blush on my cheeks
and mine in yours

In the mind somewhere and in the soul
In that which is eternal
We were never separated
Ah yes separation is only an illusion
Ah yes whatever I did to you
I did to myself
And one will not want to cheat oneself
It is in duality that you cheat
In cheating another-you cheat yourself
You have lost -A sense of belongingness…
a sense of one-ness–
which is a truth which will remain
For I am a tear in your eye and you in mine
For I am a smile on your lips and you in mine.

Neha Rohra



Neha Rohra
In You
Have I made a discovery.
Eureka….these lips whisper,
And this pen moves to tell your story

You are tired my friend
And Oh so strained
Physical fatigue-Emotional wounds
Have the zest for life all drained

For long, this tenderness
Have you veiled
Your heart leaped once but shut down
Ridicule had it naturally jailed.

This imprisonment
Couldnt last forever
You decided to be free
That is what you’re meant to be

You looked within -and in the many ruins
Found your strength-my discovery-your alchemist.

The Alchemist transformed
Wounds brought understanding
Darkness-a craving for faith
Tears were not weakness anymore-
They became a call to Eternal love
You moved from pleasure to real mirth
You arrived home and rested
With Greater Self Love!

Neha Rohra



Name: Neha Srivastava
Place: Mumbai,India.
When I close my eyes
I can feel you
So close so right so mine
I am so incomplete
With everyone around 
Me And so complete 
When it’s you near me.When I close my eyes
 I can dream you
So true so clear so live
It’s you who kisses
My forehead and Wishes 
Me to have good time but
My best time is when 
I spent it with you.When I close my eyes
I can trust you
So blind so fair so honestIt’s only you,
Who makes me smile
Enlightens my charm
Makes me glow.When I close my eyes
I can love you
Forever ever and ever….! 
Name: Neha Srivastava
Place: Mumbai,India.


by- Nalini Priyadarshni 
From- India
Where does the longing lie?
My echo resounds what is rooted in my heart
Whispering in my ears what I don’t want to hear
Putting its tongue right inside my ear
Can I run away from my shadow?
It pushes me towards myself
Forcing me to hug and love myself
Flooding me with forbidden desires
In this perpetual struggle
We three live together
My Echo, My Shadow and Me
by- Nalini Priyadarshni 
From- India


 -Swati Shobha Sevlani
Two words he said,
Three words I reciprocate.
One word he confessed,
Speechless, I left.
The words died where,
Love begins from there.
Something exclamatory,
Something contemporary.
Some intimacies,
Some infidelities,
Some confined,
Some determined.
Some sum,
Sum some.
-Swati Shobha Sevlani


C@pyright 2010
Nessa Arcamenel

All alone
In my own home
Nothing to see
Nothing to feel
All alone
In my own home
Grief and strife
How will I survive
Never changing
Never rearranging
Pain and suffering
Never saw it coming
Hate and fear
Is always near
Always hiding inside me howling
Trying to escape this broke void
A hole in my life
That was once filled
Is always broken and shattered
Will I ever be whole again
All alone
In my own home
C@pyright 2010
Nessa Arcamenel

34 comments on “**NEW** POETRY OF THE YEAR: 2012 ….”WORLDWIDE POETRY 2012″..Coming Sept ’12


  2. Ohhh!! so sweet of you Barry! Just can’t believe my eyes! It’s my honour that you counted me as one of those elite authors. Thanks 🙂

  3. Thank you Barry for giving my little piece a place on your blog.

    This new color scheme of the blog is awesome.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s