Category Archives: Poems

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Tarun Cherian

The Runaway Smile

My smile walks away from me,
Boards the train bound to Sakleshpur, claims its seat,
Next to the mami (auntyji) from Malleshwaram, who pulls out a tiffin filled with murkus,
Homemade which you have to say no to with salivating mouth,
(Nowadays you know train thieves drug and leave you naked on the tracks),
Anyway you adjust-maadi, and squeeze tight against the flower seller from Anant Nag,
While her husband leers at you,
But she, she with her provincial wisdom,
Places a warm understanding hand on your thigh,
Which says ‘the men will be the men,’
And new teeth pop up in your smile
That broadens to include our home in IndiraNagar, now no longer screaming its head off,
And with Tenali Ram’s wry wisdom grins at life foibles,
As the whole world is ‘seeing’ your ex-husband running after the train like Don Quixote,
With umbrella poking ‘everbodies’ and the train’s arse
Shouting ‘my wife, my wife do not take my wife’
But the engine driver ‘is not caring,’
And with a jhug-jhug katak feek we move towards Amma’s estate,
Where she will hit me with a belan for leaving my husband,
And I will be safe and smiling.

Tarun Cherian illuminates lives with Aura Reading, Dream Interpretations, Animal Whispering, Angelic Interventions, helps patients fight the incurable, accompanies serious spiritual seekers on the path to the ultimate, and creates windows with art & poetry.

J. R. Solonche

Myopia

The window,
a sky composed of a single cloud
somewhere near the sun,

the desk lamp,
a sun diffused through fog
rising over a lake,

the green blotter on the desk,
a lake with rising fog,

my glasses on the desk beside the green blotter,
a bicycle rusting in the undergrowth
beside a lake,

my left hand,
three wild swans rising through
fog rising.

J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since the 70s and is the author of six poetry collections.

J. R. Solonche

Botanical Gardens

If yellow is the color of joy,
then here is joy enough
for a city of the miserable,

and if red is love’s color,
then here is red enough
for all the cups of the loveless.

J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since the 70s and is the author of six poetry collections.

J. R. Solonche

Mistake

It means “an error
caused by a lack of skill,”

which means a life, a whole life,
can be an error caused by a lack of skill.

J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since the 70s and is the author of six poetry collections.

Scott Lilley

Aged

Time flicked the dirt
from underneath its fingernails
onto our faces.

Scott Lilley is twenty years old reading English and Creative Writing at Lancaster University, his work has been featured in The Airgonaut and The Eunoia Review.

F. John Sharp

When The Future Was More Fun

It used to be that a dystopian
movie or book would be
a chance to think, “There’s no way
we would ever let the world
get like this,” yet
here we are, with a front row seat to
exactly how the world could get like that.

F. John Sharp swears he once saw Ned Beatty riding a bicycle in Marina Del Ray.