Category / 2019 / Fall 2019 / Fall 2019 Poetry / Poetry

Honeybees danceOutside the windowFor a momentMy tired mindDances with them Taylor Bain is a tutor who enjoys watching campy movies. Her writing has appeared in Dual Coast Magazine and HCE Review.

Skip breakfast every day Because it is more important To paint yourself pretty.Hold back your tears So your peers cannot mock them.Give the gift of your time,               Your attention,                             Your love, To men who…

I am bitten as we walk under the fallen angel leavesThe cracking cement face hard and haggard with century lines sidling up to its lover the cold dustI am as silent as this place allowsSlowly the wistful doom of age creeps into my bonesA fairer skeleton I knew notYet through toil and bloodshot tearsThrough the…

i am lost here // somewhere between infinite and unforgiving// i stand at these street corners and yell obscenities in the air// hear them echo back // know what it sounds like to be callednames but remain scabbed // numb to the hairs tightlybraiding nooses around my neck every time I drive by anofficer //…

Come and listen to the floorsMoan out their complaints; we’ll record them,Recite them with our footstepsAs we walk through the houseRemembering how we arrived hereFrom the twisted wreckage of days,Surviving the flames that tried to eatWith lips of furyWhatever remained of our faith. Come and listen to the walls; We will fill them with our…

Let this be the hourthat refugees deport camp guardswho stare at the concrete floorbeyond the chain link of the cagesas their papers are stamped in Spanishwith secret destinations;let this be the hourthat ICE rifles blister their palmsand nightsticks shatter against their hands;let this be the hourthat brown-skinned familiesdrowned on the way northare resurrected to sip…

It is a city of nightand blurry, orange lights. A city of bridgesharboring secrets under the water. I am here in flesh only. A body on warm leather, cold windows. and split from this- I am floating. In the constellation raindropson the glass of my window,I connect dots,to music and the peaceful sounds of summer…

Let the children have cupcakesAnd furniture to jump onTen more minutes before bedtime You know what’s comingLet them have some joy before For all we knowFive or six years before tonightTheir souls were leaving broken bodiesIn a Mexico City traffic accidentAwaiting divine judgement in a Serbian nursing homeOr floating above their wasted carcassRemorseful at having…

It’s time to drag the chest from the corner of the attic.The one with             the butterflies             in it. Sometimes I rip the nails from the floorboards and try to swallow them straight down my throat without the tip of the nail poking my insides. Momma says…

Work Part I 10 years old She braids her dancing spirals smoothWith fingers holding memory.Handmade heart. Her mother’s eyes a summary:To bend, to weed, to wash, to reachThat perfect peach Beyond the grace of patchwork smiles Whose pink suffuses laundry carts;Infinite piles,Their centers drift and sag apart. Yet once she rinses all her miles Of…

Well it seems that the key to lifeIs to simply maintain motionSince I can’t see the moving airI guess I will duplicate the oceanI have found I am better off movingSo I will let these currents do the choosingBecause I can’t decide myselfIf my self-worthIs worth provingI have got wounds that need soothingI am tired…

At the touch of a kissThe sea of mind was swept awayUproar tide Shakhawat Tipu, born in 1971, lives in Dhaka. He is a distinguished bilingual poet, editor and critical thinker from Bangladesh. He is also a journalist. The prominent figure of the new Bengali poetic language movement, Tipu established himself as the leading poet…