Browsing Tag

poetry

2021 Contributing Writers Pandemic Poetry

Just A Reminder

Written by Sheema Huq

Whether you happen
at all to be
wearing a WW2 Gas
mask or
an astronaut’s outfit
or have
a mixing bowl over
yer head.
Please remember to
take it off
before going to bed!


Sheema Huq has had a long career working in retail and social care. Sheema has been, by and large, a rhyming poet and spoken word artist for many years also. A good friend transformed four poems into classical songs, and Sheema produced and performed in 3 poetry shows at a London Theatre.

2021 Art Contributing Creators Contributing Writers Pandemic Poetry

Cataclysmic Age

Art and Text by Gordon Lewis

Pieces of your soul

Gasp at the medieval jumble
Weʼre swimming in the abysmal soup
A plague that has spread
We live in infested quarters

Culture fails in this new world
The Dark Ages are alive and well
Theyʼve found their dwelling place
In the bowels of the states

Can you grasp the reality?
We live our lives on the screen
Hoping to find some meaning
But it slips out of our grip

Modern day renaissance man
Looking to beautify the world
When everything looks bleak
Pick up the pieces of your soul

Lux Lucis Ferre

Die solis invikti nati
When the Sun rises again
Saturn spins around our head
We see the solstice occur
Knowing that light is on the horizon
Weʼve gotten over the darkest days
But new challenges lie ahead
We cannot back off
Especially now when nature needs us the most
Let the rays of Phosphoros shine
Lux-Lucis Ferre

Abu Rowash

Subhuman enemy
Apocalyptic axioms
Simplest stratagem
Biowarfare blankers
Cataclysmic specie
Hellbent messiah
Unholy matrimony
Scarred Disciple
Temple of Abu Rowash
High Priest exalted
Mysterious omen
Torn Scrolls
The end is the beginning
The prophecy foretold
In ancient scripture
The numbers align


Gordon Lewis is a writer, musician, photographer, and artist currently residing in Colorado where he enjoys being in nature and working on his creative endeavors.

2020 Contributing Writers Pandemic Poetry

Still

Written by Amy Steingart

In this moment I am bone-weary
I can go on, but I can’t.
In this moment my foolish hopes spiral up –
and spiral down.
In this moment I try to
hold my daughter up,
keep her head above water;
to keep her afloat to
keep us both from living on the ground,
bone-weary.
In this moment I avoid headlines, reality.
In this moment I want to be smart, speak knowledgeably
when my friends say how does it feel?
I need to say something.
How does it feel to be in the epicenter?
they say – how terrifying!
and
how are you able to function? and
can you get toilet paper? and
do you wear a mask?


Do you ever hear sirens?
Yes. Yes I do. I hear sirens
all day and all night.
they have to be
hushed background noise,
a murmur
so I can stay above water
and not live on the ground,
bone-weary.


Can do you sleep? Do you have nightmares? How does it feel?


How does it feel?
It feels
weary
weary in my bones, in my skin,
my eyes my hair in the tips of my fingernails.
I am so weary.
In this moment the sun is fighting with clouds
outside my window,
it draws my eye.

In this moment, light penetrates my arm,
whispers to my skin
illuminates my bones
vibrates.
For this moment I can breathe.
I am here
I am still here
I am still.


Amy Steingart lives and writes in Brooklyn, New York. She attended Oberlin College studying English, creative writing, and theater. Her first poetry collection, I Am Where You Have Put Your Eggs, was published in June 2019 from Small White Cat Press. She is a co-founder and editor of Writers’ Bloc.

www.amysteingartpoetry.com

2020 Contributing Writers Pandemic Poetry

Where are those smiles?

Written by Bhuwan Thapaliya

Sitting in my living room
watching the slits of moonlight
peeping through the louvered window,
I sip a cup of lemon tea and get nostalgic.
Vivid pictures of tiny toddlers
going to the school
holding their grandparent’s hand
dances before me.
And the emancipated smile
on the face of a woman
driving an electric tempo
in the streets of Kathmandu teases me.
I am missing seeing an elderly man
having tea and happily gossiping
with his friends at the roadside tea stalls,
a yard away from his children’s reverie.
And I desperately miss looking
at an old Nepalese woman
in her traditional attire feeding pigeons at
Hanumandhoka Durbar Square
with dancing pigeons all around.
I am missing the glimpses of a normal life.
Where are those smiles?
I toss and turn in my bed
hundred times every night
as the clouds that
roars and mumbles in the sky.
I toss and turn.
Horrid images of children
with no childhood
flashes before my eye.
No tangible relief in sight.


Nepalese poet, Bhuwan Thapaliya is the author of four poetry collections and is currently working on his fresh poetry collection, The Marching Millions.  His main theme often hinges around the globalization of love, peace, and universal solidarity. His poems and articles have been widely published in such journals and periodicals such as Kritya, The Foundling Review,  Strong Verse, Pratik, Taj Mahal Review, Nuveine Magazine, Poetry Life and Times, VOICES ( Education Project), The Vallance Review, Longfellow Literary Project, The Global Politician, and Poets Against the War.