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Issue 43/44 : January - June, 2009 : Volume 11 No 3/4 Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan Let's Just Call It a Day And here I go again Trying to break in Trying to break thru Making sense at last Making strides inward forward And here we go again Making love without love Making war with no guns firing Trying to keep the peace for peace’s sake Trying to march forward with heads held high And here I go again Thinking too much Thinking too deep Popping another pill and all edges erase Popping another bottle cap and all dread drowns And here you go again Taking another pot shot at me Taking one more blow at my self esteem Thinking I care anymore Thinking I can be hurt anymore And there we go again Spinning our webs bigger, stronger Spinning our heads till we can’t stand up Pointing our fingers at each other Pointing our fingers at ourselves And here I go again Writing it all down for the world to read Writing it all down for you to read Telling the truth finally Telling us both let’s just call it a day New York Rob Frail Your Morning Smile I feel the dawn light streaming thru the crack in the blinds I smell the coffee streaming thru the door to wake our sleepy minds I roll over to face you, your pillows in a pile But it's not enough to hide your morning smile The workday is callin' us uptown, the alarm clock is in its count down Not so fast, come on lay back down, don't bother with your nightgown The workday world will have to wait a while, so we can greet the day in style Give me, give me some more of that morning smile Your morning smile won't let me sleep, It's on your face, but it's mine to keep. It's on your face, but it's in my eyes, Your morning smile, for when I'm lonely, Your morning smile, for my eyes only Well, I guess last night got pretty wild, Or did you dream we were stuck on a desert isle? Or were you counting sheep through a turnstile? Just how do you account for that morning smile? Let's turn the clock ahead till it's Saturday, Then we'll have a little more time to play Not so fast, come on lay back down, don't bother with your nightgown I'm reaching for my cell phone, but don't get your pretty head all riled I just wanna take a picture of that morning smile Hit the snooze again, then roll on top for a while So that I can put my lips on your morning smile Your morning smile won't let me sleep, It's on your face, but it's mine to keep. It's on your face, but it's in my eyes, Your morning smile, for when I'm lonely, Your morning smile, for my eyes only For my eyes only New York Bishnupada Ray Crisis We are waiting for the spirits to return from the island where they were banished where the sea speaks under a rainbow arch the crystal refracting radiation of vision different points of view and lucky pick of truth to be human is to will to will is to honor the real self of truth the hard way to tragedy the eternal wrongness of original causes are set in motion always already like an oracle sentries are posted high walls are raised culture citadel is secured the chains of silver and gold and high-rise obstructions the tradition of reputation what the world will say mercenary commitment and self-imposed maiming the real self is compromised for a damn good easy life our collective guilt waits for the spirits to return to listen to what they say. Kolkata Kushal Poddar More From the Attic The drawing sheets are scattered, lying on the floor talking their heads off in water-colored words. The crayons, the tubes are having a bad day, his mind is playing with the four squares of light, the real surreal scenes that can be seen on the little window on the east of his room. He can draw vividly on the canvas of earth akin to the true life he has seen so many times. He has seen the young man from the other village waiting at the bend of three tamarind trees for the girl with a port wine mark on her cheek. They can be made a charcoal sketch, softly sprayed. Sometimes the window makes him, his attic . . . sadder sometimes like the lost days since when the boy the one from the next village stops coming to meet with a lonely flower with yellow petals. Sometimes the village embraces rain, lightning and windows are meant to be closed, shut . . . Kolkata Please read more poems in English in the hardcopy... |