A Romantic
A Romantic
by Jean-Pierre de Levay
To see the beauty
In the eyes of another
Amidst the quotidian anarchy
Of lies, deceit, and horror
Is but what I do
To find a glimmer of hope
Where the world thought unconceivable
To pursue the soul’s passion
Within the dogmatic conformity of life
To witness greatness
And comfort the dejected
Whilst sparring
The jaundiced malefactors
Is what makes Me
What I am
A dreamer, a romantic
Questioning ceaselessly
The morality of the status quo
In my dreams I perceive life
A dream to be shared
And live by this, I shall
Perfection
Perfection
by Varun Batta
While admiring all the many compliments
About the wonder that is her smile and face
She never really considers herself
To have such clear beauty and grace
All the time spent sitting in amazement
Brought on by just a small thought of you
My eyes fall upon true and utter beauty
When she happens to come into view
Always ready with a small remark
A minor point, if one doesn’t see
Her kind words bring to my face
A smile, a laugh, and eternal glee
It’s not just the looks, but the personality too
That fills me with wonder, amazement, and wow
Her presence is one that I cherish and love
One that I wish for every moment, even now
While it simply isn’t possible to be
The one term that she meets so well
My feelings confuse my eyes to see
That she is nothing but, and I want to tell
She is beautiful, she is wonderful, she is loving and sweet
She is stunning, she is amazing, she is beyond complete
There are thousands of millions of ways to say it
But what we all want to say is that she is perfect.
Golden Stars
Golden Stars
by Rachel Hannusch
The golden stars dance
across the sky,
and in my arms
the baby cries.
Hold on hope,
do not die,
and in the dark,
the ravens fly.
Exhaustion
Exhaustion
by Aniqah Beharry
The wrinkle under my mother’s eyes
After 6 waning hours of teaching.
The creak of the childhood rocking chair
Crying as with another rock forth,
Another day passes.
The lowered neck of the deep-rooted Poui tree branch
Sulking for as the time passes, so too will her beautiful flowers.
One second here with her,
The next, gone with the moving winds.
The grandfather clock swings his hands monotonously,
There, another 24 hours has passed,
So much in the world has changed,
But the heavy bags remain, exhausted but persistent.
Begin Again
Begin Again
Shruti Pankaj Bagmar
We stood still,
All the years that came
And went by.
Tried to process our thoughts,
Bewildered and demented,
Was girl loving a girl a crime?
Can’t a boy call another boy ‘mine’?
Society has put restrictions,
Uncanny and conventional.
Mocking LGBT,
Disrespecting the tribe,
Making them skeptical about their worth,
And questioning their life.
You can’t control your feelings,
They’ll flow the way they want.
And it’s not wrong-
It’s healthy and natural.
Making someone feel loveable
Is definitely termed as ‘cultural’.
Now we have legal rights,
We can be proud of who we love.
No rethinking,
Nothing to reconsider.
We can act more humane,
With our fellow mates.
It’s time to understand,
Love is Love.
And there’s no need to begin again.
“If Memories Could Write Back to Me” by Shruti Bagmar
You see a girl, young and chubby,
Dressed in pink,
Trembling when she walked,
Taking her first steps,
Somewhat with confidence,
As she had her dad’s hand caught.
You see a toddler, running around in the house,
With different shades of crayons,
In her hands and in her pockets,
Wearing a white tee,
All coloured by herself,
Sprinting to show it to her mom.
You also see a 6 year old,
Bubbly and naughty.
Family’s favourite,
Fancying barbies,
And taller than her brother,
Who now calls her ‘shortie’.
I paint an image of a girl,
Shy and somewhat introvert,
Who was moral when she turned 14,
Gazing out of the window,
Looking at the beautiful nature,
Doodling in her dreams.
A grown up adult,
With an endearing smile,
Lived through the best phases of her life.
Holding two families together,
Now, more responsible.
Sneaking into her memories,
One hot afternoon,
Thinking that if her memories could write back to her,
What would it be?
Would it be about every person in her life,
Or would it be only herself and her family?
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