Council Failure

Train platform woman,
brunette and wide eyed lonesome
left alone sat scared.

Lackluster green tree
cenotaph: Christmas failure
shit county council.

Travelling home now,
through window pane scenes of you
I see no way out.

The Body Takes Over - Namitha Varma

I stand in awe as my body lies in another’s arms,
I watch in wonder how it rests in another's curves.

There was a dream once,
Of a firm shoulder and a warm breast,
But like everything else,
Dreams shifted in their place.

Like the tree that welcomes four seasons
And the river that carries new memories every day,
My body embraces fresh smells and skins,
Shedding them like snake-moults every night.

It delights in the contractions of lust,
Unabashed, it screams in joy at each hurt.
It becomes a saint for the day and the whore of the night,
It laughs at the moral farce and flirts with carnal desires.
It challenges the heart, beats the logic of the mind,
And like wanton breeze,
Slides through faces and deep-seated drives.

All the while, I stand in lost thoughts,
Unknowing whether to admire or despair.
When my body walks ahead of me,
What can I do but follow it lamely?

And yet, we come together for a while,
Before the nightfall, before the taste of sweat n blood prevails:
She tells me that she loves me,
And I say, so do I.

One comforting hug, and we fall apart,
But I know her feelings well,

And she knows mine.

- - -

Namitha Varma is a media professional and a self-proclaimed narcissist based in Mangalore, India. She is a voracious reader, a music enthusiast and an opinionated social observer. Her works have been published in eFiction India and can also be found atnarcissistwrites.blogspot.com.

Pain - Semita Raj

You used to be my reflection,
An unknown silence in my every action,
A grin during my anger,
The fortune in the miser
You were the one I treasured
and flipping my life upside down
Now you are a pain unmeasured

- - -

Semita Raj was born in Delhi in 1995. Semita is an avid reader or Anime, and spends her time getting high on life and writing poetry. She is a first year student of English Literature at Ramjas College Delhi University.

Fifth


If you’d just hold out your arms and lead;
force feed my feet to eat up the floor and once I - promise -
find that rhythm I will tip the tables and turn them so you’ll
be led in a waltz around the place, until your head is hidden by your hair and the dub-step-house-trance coming from the speakers turns to Mozart’s fifth, a symphony that features woodwind and strings in an endless kiss.


Will we dance to all four movements? you say,


Yes, until we become a dance floor nuisance, something more than a blur and an illusion and we're asked to leave.

Homebase Feature Walls

Tables decorated with chairs,
the kitchen light above her displaying
tightrope, loosely-knitted hairs against
the mauve feature wall behind.

The chorus sang, 
            You said, "Driver, please don't go that fucking way"
            You said, "Just let it go away"
            You said, "Just let it go".

You sang,
            It's never the facts, always the fabrication.

And I said,
             I felt like my dad and you said that was a good man to feel like.