Last Strand of Hope There was no God to be spoken to…BrokenNo miracle, no magic casted…Broken
Voicing It A voice of a song bird cannot be muted just because it’s storming. The song must be sung anyway.
Hope New life new leaf new page new phase new phrase erase the rage that ate the void called heart that hurt
Like I can’t breathe Like the air doesn’t reach my lungs Like the lump in my throat chokes me Like my heart is buried under a mountain
I (This is a narrative poem in four parts written from the perspective of a long- term resident of the Sundarbans whose livelihood is wrecked by the recent Cyclone Amphan. In the time of an ongoing pandemic it is a calamity upon a calamity.) I grabbed the rope,As I neared the shore,And threw its working… Continue reading Mayhem In The Mangroves by Tasnima Yasmin
I put my heart into my mother’s coffin and now it throbs under the ground. All the letters I sent to my first love returned unread in my mailbox
(To my mother who could not love me) I was the best daughter-slave, but she snubbed me.
Children bore of cave paintings Typing on phones on a field trip Talking back to their teachers And giving them some lip.
Dear Impending Sense of Doom Dear Impending Sense of Doom, Hello again. It has been less than eight hours since we last spoke.
Small Life My world is small now. I wake up at daybreak and have two iced coffees with my mom and dad. Sometimes we go for a short walk around the neighborhood, a wooded suburb in Connecticut. I left New York City at the beginning of the pandemic and have only been back once, to… Continue reading Small Life and other poem by Karol Nielsen