For Fall Poetry Event: I Don’t Live in This Language Anymore

Three poems for the Poetry Salon by Prajakta Paranjpe I don’t live in this language anymore  that was the medium of my youthful rebellion when rising from the mediocre towards a better expression seemed a reality one could live within the context of a language- Foreign words, opening up worlds I could not have imagined…

For Fall Poetry Event: Snow Postcards

Four poems for the Poetry Salon by Pooja Garg   Snow postcards It is difficult to tell you of snow on the phone Where I sit in the window, it is hard – The fall, The falls – I think the moon perches on that twig for a reason comparing whiteness, comparing notes and that…

For Fall Poetry Event: Neem Leaves

Three poems for the Poetry Salon by Anu Mahadev. Neem Leaves I press them to my chest, like folded laundry, warm skeins of silk. Could it be only a week since you slipped into the folds of memory, the thin birds of your hands moving above the black stove or the last visit to the…

For Fall Poetry Event: But Radha Wants More

Three poems for the Poetry Salon by Ashini Desai But Radha Wants More He is the boy everyone wants. But SHE is the girl he dances with. The girls circling her tell her straight, they wish they had her fate. Of a thousand to be the one! Does she not know that she has won?…

For Fall Poetry Event: Boxes

Two poems for the Poetry Salon by Priya N Iyer Boxes Amazon box at the door A bright red box of Legos Orange white from donut shop To go coffee handle- top Gift boxes in bright paper Boxes ship your furniture Crayons, mittens, winter wear Boxes are just everywhere. But There is something, you cannot…

For Fall Poetry Event: An Ode to My Preening

Two poems for the Poetry Salon by Nidhi Thakur Multiple sets of semi-precious dangling earrings, Colorful and silver-lined, I hoist a pair of you to my ears For the purpose your color serves today, matching, coordinated to my clothes, service until death, the danglers say. The borders of your appearance will always be protected. Silver,…

For Fall Poetry Event: The Sweetest Jaggery

A poem for the Poetry Salon by Supreet Bains Sharma She didn’t know A mother and father could exist. Yet they did. In a village not too far. “My Aunt and Uncle took me in”, She said, “For I was born and didn’t die.” She doesn’t remember much of the early days – Scoldings, beatings,…

TWI Poet: Janna Grace

I smell like onions after eating your story it’s the same rose of corn that bubbles in a stew of your chunky untruth. It makes me sick my mom says because we cannot process onions and garlic and leeks that our bodies cannot take it in it spills them out every pore. Even the ducts…

TWI Emerging Poet: Whitney Roberts Hill

Parthenogenesis   Siddhartha Gautama was born from his mother’s side. In lean times, plants so split. The pup of a new one tucked like a hexadactyly under her petal skirts. The seeds that are made of one woman alone in the desert; no bees, no man.  Just a copy of her own genes.  Just a…

TWI Poetry: On Ageing

LOVERS’ ATLAS You ask more of me my friend  Almost lover More of my body but a lot Less of my weary heart Beaten heart Heart sucked dry of hope What do I have to give you Save a map of shrivelled scars Sprawled haywire across The breadth of my ageing body Not beautiful and…