Poetry

"...A lie, a mother once uttered, to protect her child..."

"...he misses London every day..."

"...how your kindness and scent carried me through that year ..."

"...O garden beloved to me..."

"...records spinning on deceased Saturday nights..."

"...old Tom swore his son, Tommy, never would a miner be..."

Shamik Banerjee is a poet from Assam, India where he lives with his parents. His home is surrounded by a beautiful hill.

Memories in haiku

"There you are...."

"...I found him wordless..."

"...I was not a new man, nor a good man, but I was a beginning man..."

"...I was excited, had never met an artist before..."

"...Like whalers trying to harpoon..."

"...Sometimes the kids would beg 'Can we get chocolate, Mom?'..."

"...I crave the chance to turn my heater on..."

"...see Africa in her purity, totality and dignity..."

"...laughter echoes cruelly across the moonless night..."

"...the intimacy of song, the air whispering..."

Joel Bush reads things. He also writes things. Well, sometimes he reads the things he writes. That tends to help.

"...enjoy your ice cream and cookies..."

"...transform the heavy leaden flesh of age back to the bloom ..."

"...There are no bridges or tunnels or hidden shortcuts..."

"It didn’t matter that I was at the wheel..."

"...No one knows how long it’s waited..."

"...If light don’t come, try another door..."

"...The snoring was sudden and deep!..."

Memories in haiku

"...in the breast pocket of an imitation leather jacket forgotten..."

Collaborative Tan-renga

"...Planning is a holophrase for hiatus..."