ghazal 24 (‘on the ground’) | Bilal 'Aflatoon' Moin

for my grandfather (1949 – 2023)

Nana peddled kerchiefs of starched thread on the ground

Sauntering, he drank from the sky and fed on the ground.

His hankies stuffed the pockets of runny-nosed Parsees

And those big-bellied-boors that spat red on the ground.

The day kismet chose him to journey across the Gulf,

Knotting his hands behind his back, he tread on the ground.

When it rained grains of rice, pilau pervaded puddles

We crowded around the bleating goat, half-dead on the ground.

At noon we rolled out the chatai, the crow caws a bismillah

The brood in banyans breaks bread on the ground.

Mothballed memories ripen like papayas, his whiskers whisper,

His zabiba darkened with every forehead on the ground.

Hamlet on his lips, ‘He gives wisdom to whom He wills,’

chai cools in his saucer, the newspaper sits half-read on the ground.

How could you forget, Aflatoon? Before it was your pocket square,

It was his white cotton rumaal, spread on the ground.

Realm of love- Gayathri Vinoth

In the realm where life begins,

A miracle unfolds, unending,

With strength and courage, new bonds form,

As love and awe, the heart will warm.

A mother's body, strong and fierce,

Nurtures life, an act so spears,

Through pain and joy, she perseveres,

Bringing forth a life so dear.

Her breath, a rhythm of creation,

As contractions rise, sensation,

Each surge, a step in transformation,

Birth's symphony, a divine vibration.

In hues of red and blue, she glows,

Labor's dance, an ebb and flow,

In every moment, love she shows,

Welcoming new life to bestow.

And as the child takes its first breath,

A sacred bond, between life and death,

In mother's arms, the world finds rest,

A love so pure, forever blessed.

Through sleepless nights and tender care,

She guides and nurtures, always there,

A bond unbreakable, beyond compare,

For motherhood, a love so rare.

So let us celebrate, rejoice,

The magic of birth, a mother's choice,

In this poetic voice, we find solace,

Night-time parcels | Reva Dusa

Poetry is like lightning

It strikes and then leaves me.

Leaves me, with my mind trying in vain

To preserve that lil piece of creativity that it received.

Leaves me thinking on how the most beautiful words

Meet with my mind when I'm in no position to conserve them.

Why is 3 a.m. the time most thoughts come hit me-

when my mind is active but my body isn't.

Why is my mind not swift enough to actually

catch the parcel of inventive phrases its been provided with?

Everyday I wake up and try to replay

The lines I receive from those parcels

But they keep buffering,

Buffering and buffering and buffering

Making everything infuriating!

Can't that parcel of creativity stay a little longer?

Only a little longer, please?

Wanderer- Aastha Gupta

My heart often wanders at places you would least expect it to be—

at the edge of 𝘈𝘮𝘮𝘢's sky blue chiffon pallu

hanging like a dreamcatcher that would never let go off the dreams woven inside it

in the nooks and corners of every street, every lane

wandering like a refugee who believes 𝘓𝘢𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 and 𝘈𝘮𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘢𝘳, both fall on the same side of the border

inside museums, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘴 and 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘴

observing each artefact, each sculpture

like an artist would admire it's muse

on the banks of 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘨 where pious waters of the 𝘎𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢 and 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘢 meet

floating, raring towards one another like two jilted lovers

my heart is everywhere-

dancing between 𝘎𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘣'𝘴 verses

swooning over 𝘍𝘢𝘪𝘻'𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘻𝘮s

dreaming about 𝘈𝘮𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢'𝘴 poetry

behind closed doors

beneath wings too huge

above the sky too high

for I am a wanderer-

𝐅-𝐎-𝐑-𝐄-𝐕-𝐄-𝐑

It's a movie goodbye | Mallika Agarwal

It’s a movie goodbye but it’s rush hour

no empty roads to dawdle on

cars behind us continuously honk

In a minute though, you’ll be gone.

It’s a movie goodbye and I softly ask

If you could pull over to the side

You don’t hear me and

I don’t ask again because– well– pride.

It’s a movie goodbye and there’s

All the elements too

The soft drizzle of the rain, the light from the moon

Me, and of course, you.

It’s goodbye, and I wonder

if a part of you is still mine

We hug, I try to freeze time.

I watch you drive away

Eventually, The night turns black.

I thought it was a movie goodbye

But you never looked back.

Why should be practical? - Vaishali Bhadauriya

Everyone says to be practical.

But why should be practical?

As that will not make me feel happy.

Why should be practical?

As that will snatch my comfort,

to make me specimen of spectacle and make me feel like,

a drifted prisoner of war,

the war between my brain and heart,

thought that will intake my freedom

and gave prison to my innocence.

Why should be practical?

As that will murder my childish heart and make me heartless, rude,

a person full of egotism,

without any feeling just like

a lifeless plant.

A person who can't see,

hear and Feel the beauty of nature.

Why should be practical?

As I know my brain will

never allow me to hear,

a melodious voice of nature

between so much noise of World.

Bright sun, green lively lands Speechless but species -

full of emotion, speedy wind waves, musical waterfalls and

rivers that never rest.

If the real beauty of life

is in illogical things,

then why do people try to find

logic in everything?

Missing Piece | Vineetha Deepak

That night, he walked away carrying a piece of my broken heart.

I spent a long time waiting for his return.

Flowers bloomed, leaves fell, snow came.

Another year passed and yet, there was no sign of him.

There was nothing, but memories to hold onto.

Happiness came from different sides,

Leaving an inexplicable feeling of void in my heart.

Something was always amiss;

For it was never him I was waiting for,

But a missing piece of my own!

The Blank Senses | Afrin Meeranatchi Nowful

The eyes,

They see hues of morning light,

Reflected on the green wall,

Emitting a radiance so natural and serene.

An aura full of peace.

The ears,

They hear the chirps of the little birds,

Singing a melody so fine,

Enjoying their day,

Celebrating life.

The skin,

They feel the chillness in the room

Breezing through them,

Alert and cozy at the same time

Does that make one feel.

The nose,

They sense the fresh fragrances

From the flowers in full bloom at dawn.

And the rich blend of delicacies,

Waiting to be relished.

The mouth,

They take the first gulp of water of the day,

Quenching a throat so dried and tight.

Words tremble to come out from it.

They come with such disinterest and no hope.

The Mind,

Unable to process the inputs,

The world tries to feed it,

It weeps there in dismay

Feeling disassociated and betrayed.

A sheer blankess fills the void.

Empty eyes stare back at the green wall.

The melodies of the birds become a deafening doom,

And the racing chilness feels insidious.

The fragrances have turn into laboured breaths,

And the throat chokes on the gulp of water,

While one stares into the blankness of the mind

In reality and oblivion.

A heavy tear leaves the eye,

On the realization that one is an eternal prisoner,

A prisoner of the Mind

And of The Blank Senses, forever.

Country or Family- Neeraja Krishnaswami

We have learned to die for our country.

We are habitual of not living with our family.

But, the lesson of dying for our country

Has been learnt from the lessons

That family gave us.

When we never backed out

Or thought twice

Before sacrificing ourselves

For the good of the nation

How can we tell our family

To not even shed tears for us?

When we go to the battlefield

Leaving someone behind

Hoping for our return,

How can we snatch

That little ray of hope from them,

Which becomes their guiding light

In our continued Absence?

What spirit ignites in us

Making us perform each time

Isn’t it there in our alive families?

Everyone has a heart

But those who Ignite in us

The Will to go on to the battlefield

We couldn’t keep our loyalty to them.

What might that family be thinking,

Who didn’t bat an eye-lid

When sending us away

Not knowing when we might return

Or knowing that we might not return at all,

Just for the sake of the bright future of the nation

That they see in us?

Proud to be the lamp of such a family

Which teaches us to give

The place of family to the nation

But when we have to choose between

Country and Family

We get pulled towards our country

And leave our family in the lurch,

Yet, the family does not make us feel ashamed,

And still consider us the Sons of the Soil.

Shy away- Bejoy Manoj

Awakened by a gentle breeze

A day of brilliant sun unfolds the sky

Misty sunrays dance through the windows

Joyous plants find their chance

A tell tale morning

A cup to kick start the day

Small conversations and waving hellos

Morning brewed strong

But the quarrel started

Small talks became small hurdles

Sweet smiles poured warm taunts along

A bit of who you are crushing who I am

It started hitting, word by word

I started drifting into the long lost battle

Slowly cursing me for what I am

Burning a bit inside, resisting a bit outside

The contours of my body

A rosette for your conversations

A lure for your friday eves delight

Like a burning candle

I stood melting away in your burning conversation and scornful laughter

Yet smiling yet crying

Your perception is what you wish to sow

I am not confined by your decree

Negligence is bliss

Correction is arrogance

Words became swords

Gentle pricks started scaring

The remedy lay within

Without a purpose to hold

A conversation to breathe

Lost I remained anxiety's captive in part

Yet they battled with the sharpest words

Through the scars again, till it tore open

Deeper and deeper

I called them friends, family

What to address

what to leave unsaid

Problems seem cheap and small

Its true, when they are not yours to endure and pursue

Journeyed for endless miles,

Repetitive steps, questioning in silent trials,

Was it in my genes or the soul's plea?

Am I fat and unloved, or slender and weak?

The power of speech and mistfit I am

Amplified your image but obscured me,

In your shadow, I made you shine and win,

Yet, at my cost, you're the void within.

Hidden in your words, there lies the dread,

A mask concealing the nothingness unsaid.

Dialect of Divines | Hemlata Poralkar & Pratiksha Godse

Seraphic, creamy-milky Jasmine trellis, vined on holy door of quaint church

And beside alone, profusely, Magnolia tree was undeviating;

Witnessing the tale of cherishing lives who praying and living in front of its sights,

The tree, would only talk to beatific, one live spirit and obliged.

In the early spring day, veiled in cloudy wrap, small baby was left in the church

Jovial his smile was, named Kiyoshi, alike his name he was angelic and bright.

His rosy cheeks and giggling of his, got amusement to encircling breezes.

Breezes, that whispered his merriment to Magnolia and mirth with it.

A day went with his strange aspect and at night father came to pray

Astonished, he was, who bowed to take him into his arms;

A boy was in tearing smile and father was in stellify eyes, then,

He touched his forehead and chanted, “You’re meant to be born.”

Nights flied through beneath father’s shed and fond,

Kiyoshi, turned three and his skin started blooming with hues of grins.

Held father’s finger, he would go to church gripping candle in his little fist.

He never felt abandoned and Father taught every breathing to be adored.

Eleven summers passed, under the white clear skies, middle in his teenage eyes.

He loved to do chores of church and helped father to live together,

Once time, when, he was learning preaching of Jesus in an afternoon weather

He heard a limerence voice with melodic rhyme and his heart followed,

Towards the girl, who was conversing with Magnolia’s twirl,

“Glorious, you look, glorious, Magnolia, your flowers make me victorious

and my heart feels like warriors.”

Kiyoshi, dreamed many sleepless nights and girl used to come daily

His heart bumped differently and blushed like new bride was entering through aisle,

A little boy looked attractive than just being young

Finally, he got first red stain on lips by a girl with hazel swirl.

Sitting under the tree he took the Magnolia’s flower and murmured,

“Does she revere roses, tulips or this pleasant flower of yours that I behold?”

Magnolia, beamed a little more looking at his innocent smile and replied

“Love, offer your nobility what is rooted in you, everything else is specious.”

Kiyoshi, first was novice soul now deeply fathomed,

He promised to the tree, his heart would always stay, being beneficence.

Chandeliers on the roof and candelabrum on each corner of his delight home

Home, he crafted beside the church, with sweat and labor of his own

Promising the universe, he entered his residence with his first love

With long white gown and gifted magnolia flowers to her.

A new journey was started with affection and care

He loved her for eternal and she was grateful for perpetual,

They wanted family where they could share

An ocean of emotions and help each other from the thorny labyrinths

And Magnolia of six decades were giving blessings; rather,

Passing of half more decades, poor soul mates could not conceive a child.

Womb as barrel land and longing of motherhood to love one divine.

Kiyoshi and her wife sobbing at nights, Magnolia consoled them by its side,

“You desire for one, when there are millions of dying. Won’t it be fruitful?

To be once land and let them bloom, nourish with time?”

And Magnolia’s words resilient them as warm moonlight.

Kiyoshi agreed, “Indeed, there are scattered little feet wanting to walk along

Not two, not four but million like mine. I’ll bring them home. I’ll gift them life.”

Kiyoshi, a piece of sacred soul, the gentle heart and modest eyes decided,

To decorate an orphanage and bring peace to crying juveniles.

“You may build grandeur galaxies for forbidden twinkling lights.

The sun that lives far away still brightening you effortlessly.

May you be shimmering moonlight for orphaned little child”

blessed the Magnolia on miraculous night.

And Kiyoshi relished his year to create heaven under the roof of blue skies.

Everything was undyed and the only color could be seen was snowy

Now, paradise of motherliness he brought to life.

Little ones were roaming around and dancing with greenery rustling

Since ages had been passed down and Magnolia waited

To see humanely bond and then, a great noble tree,

Magnolia, gasped his breath and hence cried,

“How much exultation you draw to my old soul, I have waited whole life.

To befriend with human, only you held my old branches gently in a while.

Bless you my child, may you wide spread the heritage of love and shine.”

Kiyoshi, calmed his beloved Magnolia and smiled,

“Oh dear, Magnolia, nature you are. You have been my mystic light.

Sparing my last breath, for that, God sent angels. I’ll hold you back to life.

The tiny seed of yours, I would cultivate till the existence of my life.”

Little ones were raising with tiny and shrubby Magnolias

Everyone owed each other to fill dearth to make worthful life.

Tranquility in the moment and harmony that existed for lives

The feeling of deserted being now having dialect of divines.

Good Riddance- Shivani Sinha

I'm sorry for turning you into poetry,

for cracking your ribs one by one so you could fit into my writings.

I was honest when I told you writing is the only way I survive.

It allows me to spit out everything my life has forced me to swallow.

The love we shared can be forgotten as quickly as it happened,

but remember me when you see dark clouds early in the morning or when you see artwork that is poorly drawn.

Rather than haunting you with my memories, I want to make you laugh and remember the times when you were so vulnerable and stupid in love.

It is my desire for you to grow, flourish, and become the muse of some other poet for you are no longer mine.

My Prodigal Friend | Jyotsna Jha

After it seemed you’d never visit me again

You are back once more, my prodigal friend!

You visited the bumbling child, the blushing bride, and the lover,

And your most beautiful smile you saved for the mother

You raised a toast to all that is lost

Yet ignored the feast from your present host

Mysterious and inexplicable

Somewhere between too much and too little

An elusive bird, known only to the quiet wait,

A brief brilliance before you’re gone again!

You evaded the old man who seeks you the most

And went about knocking unwelcoming, strange doors

I’ve learnt my learning, to be worth your while

For there is no accounting for you, or your ministrations

Happiness, I’m content to receive a trifling from you

Even though you’ve squandered a fortune somewhere else.

In the blink of an eye- Vishakha Gupta

Tracing the rim of his glass

Like brushing his thumb across my lips

Lost eyes boring over pools of amber swirls

Like drowning in my depths as the end would just begin

Women at the bar, blur all but one

Looking as beautiful as that night wen we were young

Wild hair and full of laughter

Hand in hand dancing the night away

Travel and adventure was all we had in sight

A tryst in the pub alley led to LIFE

Welcoming our first born was a blessing in disguise

What came after was a house full of smiles

In the blink of an eye fifty years gone by

The noise the cries the clutter the fights

The laughter...and now the quiet..

Quiet as my eyes only find hers

Music in my ears leading towards her

Crowd cheering us on, the family we made

Hand in hand we dance the night away!

Hidden Treasures | Ayesha Faisal

I sit on the rough patch beneath,

Gazing at the raging waves crashing upon the unyielding caves,

Seemingly loud but silent,

Yearning to voice the unseen.

Perhaps, it wants the world to see; to flourish,

And wishes to flow in a near utopian world

Where its efforts are not left in vain.

For its gargantuan hands can help anyone, but never itself.

Gleaming gems adorn the gloomy night,

Floating about, showcasing their underlying might,

They are ignored by many, yet beauty they spread ;

Perhaps, it is accustomed to worldly ignorance that overshadows life.

For its gargantuan hands can help anyone, but never itself.

Trudging from the rocky wilderness that envelops me,

I look above at the oh-so wide expanse of dark blanket,

Then below at the bright-lit murky waters,

And whoosh! I am hit- with a wave of wonders

As to how fortunate the ants of the universe are,

Bearing limitless capabilities; quite often illuminated.

Yet, we cease to see our potential

And fails to see the guiding lights that awaits to be noticed.

Cause amidst the chaos of human strife,

We often neglect the true existing life.

But if we take a second to notice the world’s truth,

We can easily gain the tree’s best fruit.

For our gargantuan hands can help anyone, including ourselves.

Fly Away Cheering | Akanksha Govil

orange hues of the sky

darkening to bright red

as the sun was saying bye

to a day well spent

running though the sky

lights bright and yellow

strung together beautifully

one row after another

you were there too amongst them

held there by a solitary thread

lit bright, gleaming secretly

catching my eye time and again

wind was on a merry go round

you were hopping up and down

dancing merrily to the lovely tune

of the music playing softly

do you desire to fly away

or reach high in the sky

or take a dip in water salty

or kiss the sun a final good bye

seeing you enjoy your company

brought me so much delight and joy

you were you, with no inhibition

making the best of your situation

one day you will fly free, surely

soar to where you are mean to be

nothing will deter you in your journey

you are enough as you, for you, fully

My mightiest woman- Rakshitha Reddy

ave you delved into

what lies through the veil of her blissful smile?

Do you even know what her pages read?

Do you wish to walk through and catch the scent of the mud on her path?

Do you envisage her silence and twig the tongue of her eyes?

Do you gather her angst and bother to take up cudgels for her?

Do you have any guts to take a leap into the depths of her darkness?

Do you sense that vigor, shrouded in her loud words?

Do you intuit her will, conveyed through her sneaking actions?

Do you have any resilience to bear the tonnage of her thoughts?

Can you grasp the speech of feathered friends?

Or can you comprehend the hints a storm conveys?

Can you gauge the depth of a sea or

measure the night's profound absence of light?

Her language is that difficult,

and her thoughts that tough.

Her path is that different,

and her fervor knows no bounds.

She is my mightiest woman! My Goddess!

If your weapon is a sharp knife, beware of her glistening eyes.

If your arrow is an abuse, pay attention to her stoned heart.

If your venom is tearing her soul apart, she knows how to stitch it back.

If your bullet strikes her heart, she knows how to mend the wound.

She embodies patience, and her resilience knows no defeat.

Her steps can span millions of miles, and her tears could fill countless oceans.

She is a complete soul, everything within her radiating wholeness.

And she is my mightiest woman! My Goddess!

She possesses the strength of a tempest and the grace of a soft breeze.

Her heart cradles a million emotions, each yearning for release;

and if they were to burst out,

they could fill all the voids in the world.

And she is my mightiest woman! My Goddess!

Her love, when showered upon you, can engulf you,

while her revenge has the power to devastate the world.

Her patience is a trial of cosmic movements,

and her anger can trigger the evaporation of oceans.

Her courage, should she desire it, could claim the moon and return it.

She can both stumble and recover like a lioness.

She can both cry and brighten the world with her smile.

She can be both vulnerable and incredibly powerful.

That’s my mightiest woman! My Goddess!

Enigmatic Echoes | Maullik Sharma

Like a fearless moon that weeps on lonely nights,

You don't possess sorrow, just shimmering lights.

No profound purpose, merely celestial art,

Yet you inquire of me, a curious heart.

I'd say enigmatic suits you quite well,

In a realm of mysteries where secrets swell.

Curved constellations, a cosmic ballet,

Within the vast tapestry of Milky Way.

In the interstellar dance of time and space,

Invisible hands perform an endless chase.

Amidst the void, a yearning undertone,

To fathom truths concealed, yet to be known.

A realm where quarks and atoms intertwine,

Beneath the surface of life's grand design.

Particles waltz, an intricate display,

In the symphony of existence they play.

A digital age, where screens hold our gaze,

Interactions hidden, lost in a daze.

Silent voices whisper through the pixel haze,

A world of connections in a virtual maze.

Pending, a future undefined, untold,

Where stories unfold, and mysteries enfold.

In this silent era, we stand suspended,

Awaiting the next chapter, the world's mended.

Is this more?- Shalu Kumari

With that beautiful rainbow in my thoughtful eyes,

droplets of rain were uniting earth and sky,

An unexpected question with its cold breeze,

made my mind and soul completely freeze.

There are some hearts with grief at its core,

So the pain of my scratch, is this more?

Feelings of sympathy filled my heart,

when she spoke to me with her scarf unwrapped.

A shattered person was what i expected,

but her firm handshake conveyed, it was courage she selected.

She didn't fear the eyes staring at her,

because the acid burnt her skin, not her soul.

Her smile was the sunshine in her life,

the strength she wore made me feel alive.

She misses herself with every knock at her door,

so my pain of missing someone else, is this more?

A chaotic environment was what my camera captured,

but my eyes stopped at a dishevelled woman with her screams unheard.

Her face left expressions and mouth was gagged,

when her son came wrapped in the nation's flag.

She cried hard with tears of pride,

her salute to that sacrifice left my spirit untied.

With every heartbeat she died,seeing her son lying still on the floor,

so my pain of unsatiated desires, is this more?