Poetry & Prose

Poetry & Prose2019-09-03T14:53:52-04:00

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



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.



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

“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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