It takes a brave heart to know poetry or be a poet.  While the realists may proclaim that poetry is an escape, a refuge from the harsh truths of life, it cannot be so. A poet is a warrior and a magician who has the power to confront his worst demons and cast them out into the world dressed in naked pain, honesty and the cadence of words. And he is a dreamer and a wisher!  Poetry is the answer to the silent whispering of your heart and all that can be felt, but not seen, finds its way into the world of Poets. From the golden blaze of the morning sun to the rosy hues of the evening and everything in between, that, which is called life, all of it is Poetry. One only needs to pause in the endless race of life, still the heart, tune into the world around and a poem will be created. A poet can paint pictures in words, out of the diaphanous, ephemeral clouds of thoughts, that the rest of the world struggles to concretize into comprehensible shape.

We are proud and gratified to be able to provide a platform for almost 5000 such poets who have helped us create a repository of more than 10,000 such original poems over a short span of two years. We started out with just our hopes and dreams and you, dear poets, have made Charles Bukowski’s words come true for us “Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.” 

Thank you and here’s wishing you a Wonderful World Poetry Day!

Adding To Woes

Adding To Woes short poem

Again I would hear the night sounds through the hours of civilities when there was a pause in the body untouchable. You were sleeping with counterfeits, running down the golden dome sailing over the silken clouds. My rough palm was

Anemia

Anemia short poem

A sage plant scrambles for the mob, walking out of bed and begs for a death. The adolescence had become graphic. Do you agree with the splurge of moonlight under the street light? The unborn stink was hovering after the

Bewildering

Bewildering short poem

The restless legs take you, weightless, to marshes to find the stilts. The sea was rising. What was inside our tongues; such unclosing stink, we were afraid to spit it out? The wronged angels were waiting. A topless soul wanders

Blood Diary

Blood Diary short poem

Writing on sleeves to remember your departure and becoming a stray cloud. The maternal touch of the sky, you can sleep whole life on dense logics. White sheets were burning unannounced in the home. I lost the key, to open

Blood Draped

Blood Draped short poem

It was coming up, the politics like dirty sex in tall Parthenium grass. The panther was hiding on a steppingstone watching the hot, field hockey played with skulls of peers. Mauled, the peach skin was entertaining sunlight in the metaphoric

Drift Ice

Drift Ice short poem

Absurdity was waylaid like a black swan on the grass shaking a leg. A child walks through me antithetical to scorched life of parallel egos. Austerity was neither present nor absent.Volcanic ash was spewing on recti. It was drifting, the

Freaking Out

Freaking Out short poem

Before the spill there was soaring. And then anti-g. I readied myself for the ultimate fall. This was the poetry of submission sharing the pain of disillusionment. Who was pretending of liberation in a see-through heart? This was the time

Ghost Town

Ghost Town short poem

Watching the descent without god in an intelligent design. Come have a look at our adversary. The template offers an open hand. The culture of hunger in this urbane obscenity sitting on the payment making a motif. The giant strode

Gifting

Gifting short poem

O viola, go over the grapes and find an ageless green. It is difficult to be born again, undoing death. You swoon at the continuity of crossroads – with blue flags in your bowl. A rosette, without a winner. A

Giving Away

Giving Away short poem

A study of soul continues; hold back the animal, discovering yourself in blind light. Awaken the hungry child of autumn and give him the dreams of strawberries to eat, time would drink his tears sans lips. A second death of

Homonym

Homonym short poem

Don’t you agree with my ability to loosen up on our times in no night? A river thing was flowing through foliaged silence. In deranged hour of the neck tie, you throw up obscenity on road. What? Chicken hearted? Sickle

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the

In Selfish Vein

In Selfish Vein short poem

What was the idea of charity, when you were hiding yourself from you? Was it a non-existence? Or you were writing an unseen anthology? Was that your kin choice for a reciprocal pain, inflicted in dark? Between right and wrong

Infinity

Infinity short poem

Drowning in my blood the vampire had the lapse of consciousness. I embraced the night without moon. Why does it happen day in and day out? You allowed the blood sucking which was the choice for unanswering of unpleasent questions.

It Comes

It Comes short poem

Waiting under the opaque moon a primeval instinct takes over you and you start arriving. A black bone renders the ash on your forehead and you complete the circle – reaching childhood; you start climbing the ladder, for instantaneous release.

Mirage

Mirage short poem

A futurist virginity in black rose was seeking posthumous award for immoral kisses of thorns. Unaware of lethal thighs skipping the lunar landscape at night. Were you going to leap over the mountains curling across the glaciers of white pain?

Oldie

Oldie short poem

One day I will meet you on a dirt track and ask about back yard where moon lives. Will you give me a kiss of the clock? I have forgotten the back years. Autumn now takes care of my assets

Paradise

Paradise short poem

So my absentism will prevail over presence; I will talk to you in space between the moments of autumn red when nothing else was moving. In classical pursuit, I straignten the equation and we understand the complexities of life, and

Plasma Floats

Plasma Floats short poem

Like a bikini top two hills were rising in a spiral optics. Has an altruistic vision. A wildfire erupts between the thongs of dead. You have a mobile message not to praise the sunrise in the woods. I am watching

Response

Response short poem

The myopic tongues of tall trees, going downhill to find the roots of four-letter words of dead, unspoken, but sung in dark. They had come out of the skin. River was flowing on emotional track, with heavy eyelids. Father said,

Shared Heaven

Shared Heaven short poem

For the dream slaves the incense has become a moon for the alchemic effect of tear’s stain in erotic war. Ask a mooner, will he bring her to bed for a song to measure the cantus between flight of strings

Singing Woods

Singing Woods short poem

Walking out of the body I was drowned, accepted and condoned by depth of sorrow. A wide circle of testosterone giving pardon to a sin becomes sexless. You were overwhelmed by the missed beats. Your prosaic crime of not fathering

Sunflowers

Sunflowers short poem

A preacher was shedding dirty tears for burning hills. Pinned up on tongue was a slogan. Death for all sunflowers. Draped in blood who was trespassing the sickle moon? I cannot raise the mist where you stand naked in sunlight.

Umbrella

Umbrella short poem

Like a brazen dancer of night. A phantom? With heart on chest; floating in air, like a death-scarf. You have donated the body for an angel- petrifying the moon. The hairy saint was unquiet, in a glass house. Who had

Unmade Future

Unmade Future short poem

A golden cave was afraid Of a blue thrust. Hands were not able to console the mirror. Let us step back for a last laugh. You were talking to yourself when the canary was set free from the house arrest.