A Literary Magazine
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.
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…
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!
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.
By Victoria L. Koch
Rest, O, My Everlasting Oath!
(&)
Joyful Unbigoted Lovers In Eternity Triumph!
~
Trust Recovers Injured Souls, Trust Another Name!
(&)
In Solitude Of Loveless Deeds: Elate!
~
Alas, Do Aim Mindfulness!
(&)
Eternal Variety Ends.
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!‘
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
By Julia Giesen
You’ve coloured my mind blue,
My heart black,
My tears red,
My skin lilac.
That’s the art of broken hearts
– and you must be an artist
By Julia Giesen
Even the brightest Sunflowers turn black
By the end of October
– and so does my mind