Born in a small village, amidst the dunes,
not during dawn or dusk but mid afternoon.
Progenitor’s countenance was delighted at a glance,
angels in heaven were rendering the radiant dance.
Stillborn made her mother’s womb a barren field,
seed sown bore fruition after commanding her to yield.
In true terms, since birth she was a survivor,
laden with entire kin’s load made her a coherent driver.
Continue reading A Benevolent Midwife – Poem by Tausif Mundrawala
credit card snatched,
nor driver’s license,
nor picture ID.
Not her universal number
intercepted on the Internet.
Not the checkbook swiped
while her head was turned,
nor bank account number
pilfered from a pile of trash.
radiance snatched from her brow,
her voice knocked down an octave,
shoulders drooped from weight
of falling self-esteem.
Pride ripped from her psyche,
guilt smeared on her mirror,
ugliness glaring from the future
like a finger-wagging stepmother.
She sees Used scrawled across her forehead,
dreams the only wedding dresses
available are ones already worn.
She winces remembering his gaze,
shivers at the thought of solitude,
freezes at the prospect of another intimacy.
near to abort
the theft, he forced her
into an alley, stripped
away her innocence, tore off
her self respect, ripped off
her smile, her confidence,
stole her special gift. Filled her
future with depression and fear.
The trumpet sounds a piercing blast
Yes, I hear it, it drowns out the past
Some may complain of ringing in their ears
And cannot wait until it clears
Still others hear it and unfortunately deny
That they have been chosen to reach for the sky
Continue reading Work My Sister – Poem by Lydia Taylor
We fight to survive
Through everyday life challenges
For food, pleasure and peace
But the heights we go never cease
Continue reading Fight for Survival – Poem by Kwaku Amoako Fosu-Gyeabour
Your smile is a million candles
That give light to my heart
The winds carry your scent
The trees hide desires in secret
You are a rose and thorn
Sin and salvation
Nightfall and sunrise
You are the pull of the moon
The erupting force of volcanoes
Upon the whispers of the wind
My spirit can hear your voice
A gentle tone
Filled with love and desire
We are harmony
The moments of rhythm and emotion
Give life to the symphony on your lips
Our bodies sway to the beats
Of our hearts
I revel in your rapture
For I have forsaken a hundred
Just to see the light of a new day
Dance upon your lips.
©PICTORIGHTS AMSTERDAM. Photo by Bugiandassociates
We came to America without a clue
When November rolled around and Thanksgiving, too
Stories of pilgrims with funny black hats
And Native Americans with feathers – Who knew!
Continue reading A Polyglot British-Bermudian-American at Thanksgiving – Poem by Deborah Levine
Lower down the bridges of man Made regulations
and let me wonder in the Spanish architectural field
the high rising skeletons of your priesthood
Let me, Kick, apart
Trading slavery a market to human dishonesty,
A dark age to be crucified again,
as i look back and travel in the Scorns of History,
Not long ago Che, and Fidel Castro- marched into it.
Continue reading Poem in Exile: Habana Cuba – by M. Bugi
He learned to hate at an early age
everything green spooned onto his plate.
It repelled as if monsters
curled on the dish lying in wait
to inject their slimy poison.
Continue reading Taste of Change – Poem by Wesley (Wes) D. Sims
humanity is lost
so do not tell me that
peace still exists
you are wrong
the truth is
the world is at war
you will never be treated with equal rights if you are a minority, and
do not dare say that
the good of humanity will prevail
because I know
evil is all around us
you would be lying to say
there is time for healing and
there is still hope,
this country is not divided,
we can take pride in our country
America is still the land of freedom,
I can say unequivocally that
that is just not true
the fact is
our country will never be the same
we will never be the same
humanity is lost
Now read from the bottom to the top
and turned out the lights,
I heard my mother pray
with all the others.
The room stank
like stables. Foul air
burned my nostrils.
Soon, moans replaced
the prayers. I wondered
about the promised water.
When the valves creaked
open, I felt no water,
only something invisible
on my skin. We were naked
as the truth that could not be
hidden any longer.
My mother squeezed me
to her bossom—I never liked
the smell of almonds.
The last thing I heard was
the sweet sound of violins,
the trumpeting of angels.
First published in A Quiet Courage: A Journal of Microfiction and Poetry in 100 Words or Less (November 2015).
Author’s Notes: The order to exterminate the Jews was signed in July 1941. At Triblenka II, the path leading from the undressing barracks (many were fooled into thinking they would be getting hot showers) through the forested area into the gas chambers was cynically called die Himmelstraße (the road to heaven). But the killing process at Treblinka—suffocation and carbon monoxide poisoning—differed significantly from the method used at Auschwitz and Majdanek, where the poison gas was hydrogen cyanide (which has the smell of almonds).