Ashvamegh: Issue XIII: February 2016: Poetry Section
Welcome to the poetry section of Issue XIII, February 2016. On this page, you can read the poems by selected poets and the featured poets. Read and enjoy!
The Featured Poets for Issue XIII
Scott Hastie
R W Haynes
Paul B Roth
Poems by Pijush Kanti Deb
Poems by Pijush Kanti Deb
An introduction to the poet:
Pijush Kanti Deb is a poet from India who has published a large number of poems in different journals and magazines nationally and internationally. He has also published a collection of his poems under the title The Shadow of a White Pigeon which is published by Hollow publishing and is available on Amazon online store.
Read two of his poems in this issue below.
The Ever-Longing Good-luck
Coming over the difficulties-
the ever-longing good-luck,
maybe the slowest to come in
yet it never comes to a stand-still
rather
it keeps
coming through
the lips and the eyes
whereon a bloomed park is set already,
enjoying a refreshing bath
under a fresh and cool fountain
falling from watchful brain to peaceful heart,
collocating itself
by the luminous creams
and the precious perfumes
evolved by
the good wishes and blessings of the angels-
both earthly and heavenly
and
bewitching the shadow of bad-luck too
to sneak away from the desert
which we come across sometimes
and no doubt
with in a moment
an oasis is bloomed
with a solution to the brain-beating difficulties.
Everything is Possible in Love and War
It seems to be too difficult to obey
when
a self-centered man is prohibited
from insulting his own dutiful watch,
and advised too to
let it run and touch the deadline
but before it rings the final bell of apocalypse
he should remember
his own beloved canvas
on which some demanding faces are drawn
by his tickling passion already,
make them as his fuel
and run his vehicle
without taking his foot off the accelerator ,
be good to devil and god both
and accumulate their black and white blessings
and sprinkle these on his canvass
whereon he is being cheered by the hilarious faces
round the clock
who want only success and abundance,
be a runner to save his remunerative time
though it makes his pulse rate abnormal,
be a sacrificed
and make your death also valuable for them.
Is it possible?
Oh dear, everything is possible in love and war.
Poems by Neeharika P
Poems by Neeharika
An introduction to the poet:
Neeharika
Neeharika P is an engineering student (final year) with a deep interest in creative writing. Several of her poems along with a short story have been published in different magazines. She loves writing and reading. Moreover, she aspires to be a writer in the near future.
Read two poems by Neeharika selected for this issue.
A latched Bunny
“Hear oh hear
Latched a bunny, of a cage,
Comes a monster, of an age”
“Fool us not, oh poor magician,
With all your wasted illusions”
“Fools of fools comes a wise,
And who not best, than a wise, to judge trickery!
Prove me wrong, and spun can be all my money.”
“Trickery starts with this
Caged a bunny, with fear of hunters,
Drops of rain, echoed as thunders.
Shiver it did in a chant of words,
The world outside is a curse.
Its paws and eyes, shut for years,
Death came as an only end.
To surrender death? Am i alive? It questioned, ashamed.
And in first opened its eyes.
In angst, it throbbed, alas! it failed,
With fear moulded in every wall.
For years to come, it throbbed and throbbed,
Until in pain opened its paws.
Pain a monster gave it strength,
Breaking a cage, buried till the end.
With a wicked smile, I ask you this
Bewildered are you, are you not
My friend?”
“Bewildered i am, for no doubt,
But fails not to linger a thought
A monster you speak, is a latched Bunny
Not of fear, but of pain!”
Shocked and shunned,The magician spoke none.
His money was all spun,And was never seen again.
Name of his was forever a mystery,
Only the wise knew,he was the latched bunny”.
An angst nomad
“Vexed of future, now is lost.
Vexed of love, lost is whole.
Hurt known fears, raises Mountains,
Sculpts a coward, dwelling amid-st them,
Words spoken are just, not meant.
Gestures shown are right, not true.
In, out, gay he wasn’t.
A Quest in shielding pain,
Shielded a part of his self.
With angst clenched, he whoops.
Breaking fear in rocks,
Throbbing fear in mountains,
Lest not breaking.
From fight and fought,
A cut, a bleed, a wound, sensed numb.
He stopped never,
Lest was trapped forever.
Tired, he drowns his fist, of ice
Lays down a heavy head.
Tears of his could fill a river,
And broken wills, could welcome death.
“Question me
Who is you” he begs,
“A soulless, angst nomad, I know
My shadow shades,
Under, sea of clouds”
He Echoes his ache.
The World glares, from out, Knowing,
Oblivion had devoured him,
And of suspense if he could win.”