Poetry: Ink by D.Z. Roshal

 Some nights, I break down

And write song lyrics on my bare legs in permanent marker,

As if I'm not going to regret it the next day.

But ink washes away faster than grief does

And scrubbing at the ink the next morning gives me something to do.

Some days I can almost convince myself

That the sweet-smelling soap will wash away my loneliness,

That the towel will wipe away my anger.

But a few days later, I'll write on myself again,

And all the cleaning will have been for nothing.

 

This poem was also included in a recently-published short collection of poetry, short fiction, and personal essays. Check out the author's book here! https://www.blurb.com/b/10764047-wanderer

Photography: Blanched Skeleton by Adrielle Lanae

 

Oil Painting: Best Friend by Jane Forrest

 

Poetry: Dear Comrade, by Samar Jain

 Dear Comrade, I always wanted to understand you more, 

Alas! I wish I could know what life had in store,  

I wish you could know; you were the one, whom I most adored, 

I wish I needn’t say, but those times will never be anymore, 

I wish it could just be a nightmare of sore... 

Dear Comrade, you lifted me up when I felt down, 

Brought a smile on my face, when what I wore was a pity frown, 

You were there as a ray of light, 

Always tried to make me cheerful and bright as the fifteenth night, 

You helped me fight the bitterness of life, and perhaps made it more of a delight, 

Dear Comrade, as years pass by, 

When there is desolation that envelops me like the charcoal darkness of night, 

I wish you could stand strong by my side… 

Dear Comrade, when melancholy is what I only feel, 

I know a Midas touch of yours would make all my scars heal… 

Dear comrade, I wish you didn’t have that malignant mass, 

For it led me to helplessly look onto your carcass, 

Which left me shattered as a glass, 

Dear Comrade, we used to disagree, 

But at the end of the day, it was all but glee,  

I miss those good old days, days that never will be…

Oil Paintings: Endangered and Breakthrough, by Jane Forrest

 

Poetry: Rivet, by Sarah Chaudhry

 a golden crown perched upon a sea of colored hair

that thrives upon the regality of drunken power

as it lives on a head that is no stranger to the uses and abuses of power

the power it symbolizes is a mere comparison to the power that comes from 

what such a crown could permit -

life and death at the hands many see as too feminine to unsheathe a sword and run wild

but such hands drive blades deeper than most, 

knowing when and where to extract blood that most wouldn’t dare to dream of 

Photography: Bananas and Cream by Adrielle Lanae

 

Oil Paintings: Empty Highway and Floating, by Jane Forrest

 

Photography: Rearview, by Anonymous

 

Poetry: The Pier, by Michelle R

some people sing like sirens, deadly and cunning.

i speak like a sailor, in swears and chanteys.

will you cry then, cry to the sea?

the nymphs cannot hear you,

but will you cry for me?

people slip me sympathies

out of the palms of their hands.

i can survive on my own,

but they think i can’t. 

i may be a bit rare,

that much i’ll concede,

but that doesn’t mean

i don’t care, when

people laugh at me.

Poetry: I'm Grateful, by Samar Jain

Today and everyday I’m grateful for the forest, flowers and trees, 

Fruits, petals, and green leaves.

I’m grateful for the animals, birds, and all the beings,

I’m grateful for the lakes, rivers, and seas,

And for all that simply heals.

I’m grateful for the love, and the one who does,

For the divine dove in the blissful above.

In these unusual times, I’m grateful for the covid warriors, couriers of hope.

I cry for those who grieve, mourn for those who leave,

I feel sad about the dearth,

But I still love my Earth.

I promise to care for Earth, anywhere and everywhere… 

For I am aware of the nightmare, you must also beware,

I promise to value our home by doing my bit,

I promise to care for our earth and everything it has to offer, 

I choose to celebrate Earth day, today and every single day.