When I saw her

By Bharat Sharma

When I saw her,

I felt like

She is,

like a blooming rose,

Like a poet’s dream,

Like a shining ray of light,

like a full moon night

like a soft word,

in the temple,

like a burning candle,

When I saw her

I felt like

She is,

Like the beauty of the morning,

like a winter sun,

Like a note from my guitar,

Like life in all colours,

like a twining vine,

Like the play of the waves,

Like a fragrant cool wind,

When I saw her.

Happy prevails sad

By Kavin Pandya

The steps of life, some, where the sun shines

some, has shadows in front 

some truths hard to swallow 

some lies difficult to forget 

with each step there’s a new path;

a field uncharted horizons unexplored soil unkissed and air unbreathed 

and that’s where lies adventure on these fields open 

Where the heart throbs

and the mind works along,

to keep making the steps –

some happy, some sad

and trying the best,

when the dusk sets in 

and the sky brushes red,

it’s the happy one that prevails…

i killed myself

By Mio Kyiek

i killed myself out there
in one of april’s night
eyes up towards the heavens
asked myself, is this alright?

was this a worthy way to go
to let go of the old me?
of everything that people saw
to finally be ´he´?

as I sat there on the rooftop
i had so much to say to me
yet no word left my lips
so I sat humming, waiting, to finally just be

and in the morning
as sun kissed the walls
i smiled to myself upon realising
two boys now lived in these halls

finding out who you are
is a long road ahead
pack some snacks for the way
you’ll never be alone, they said

but what they didn’t know
what they didn’t get
finding yourself is often lonesome
will make you cry, mad and upset

but the truth is even though
this is your own way
there are many others
on the same track, even today

so be brave
be kind, reach out
to find friends
on lonely routes

i killed myself out there
in one of april’s nights
but with the help of others
we’re gonna reach new heights


By Victoria L. Koch

If time was but a maiden fair

            Of noble form and golden hair

            Would men, alike as women woo

            for her attention? Say, would you?

5          With scented flowers, chocolates sweet

            Would bow and kneel you at her feet

            For her to grace and grant to you

            A piece of her, if she chose to?

            For time, the greatest gift of all,

10        Is precious more than golden fall.

            More valuable, more swift and fleet

            Than many a man’s mighty deed.

            If time was but a maiden fair

            We’d only ever take from her

15        Would never give, not ever rest

            Until her presents we posessed.

            But time is fleet and time is swift

            And shall be treated as a gift,

            A fragile slipper made of glass,

20        Tread carefully as it doth pass!

Loki: Eternal Prince

By Victoria L. Koch

Rancour feeds the icy prince,

            Lingering upon the throne of gold

            The godly mischief dwells

            In solitude, his heart turned stone.

5          Betrayed. Deceived. Well-grounded rage

            Within the giant’s chest resides

            And – wroth upon his fellow kings –

            A coolly lordship he provides.

            In Asgard lies his wrongly home,

10        Defeated by the half-god’s will.

            Yet Jotunheim, his homeland true,

            Is bound under a ruthless chill.

            Eternal Prince of Asgard: cede

            And rest before thy lifetime fades!

15        A holy king thou’ll never be.

            Quite nothing but an heir of shades.

            ’t is in your hands to turn your fate

            Before the gods with anger rise,

            To take away your precious life

20        You rather live it in disguise.

            Yet is your destiny foregone.

            The younger one in mis’ry fails,

            Abandoned and alone becomes

            A phantom of the ancient tales.

Don’t try

By Chantal Kamphausen

It’s after midnight

and I’ve been sitting here for hours

watching the drops of water

running down another half-drunk bottle of beer

my cigarettes are long gone

and so are the poor bastards

who stumbled in by accident

in hopes of a good time

but no one comes in here for fun

the life-worn, impassive faces of the regulars

tell as much

when the music fades

you can hear the old tales

of poverty, failure and loneliness

mixed with the sweet rhythm

of bottles and glasses hitting the counter

I’ve lost count of the many nights

I spent on this very stool

trying to escape my fate

only to catch a glimpse

of the barkeeper

shaking his head

in an attempt to say:

‘Don’t try, it’s not worth it!‘

Your book

By Julia Giesen

I’ve been in so many hands.

Hands that I didn’t allow to touch me.

Hands that I didn’t want to get touched by.

They’ve opened me,

Exposed me

            – and put me back into the cage I can’t escape without your help