A Birthday Gift

A Birthday Gift

By Joyasmita Ghosh

It is not the day that seems special,
But the people who make it so.
For it is just another day;
The same sun, the same sky
And the same universe that guides the pass.
But you speak of it as a day of remembrance
And insist it be celebrated.

But is a day worth celebrating Life?
And given you, given your love,
Celebration and gratitude are an enormity.
Life and Death are a game of scores;
Each second that brings us closer adds on to Life
And each moment that pulls us apart add on to Death.
You ask for my choice of gift,
But I already have you.
What could be more dear, than a heart which beats in a rhythm similar?
A soul that bows in prayer for Eternal togetherness,
And happiness that unleashes at the smile that brings the dawn to your day.

You urge, and I finally ask you for a gift
And you instinctively say yes.
Don’t, for this may hurt,
promising a thing prior knowing its price.
And I go on to tell you:
If ever a lonely soul you stumble upon,
A shoreless sailor, with all hope gone,
Promise me you’ll hold her hand
And be the loveliest roses on her barren land.
For a heart that is dilapidated,
Life happens not in worldly dreams,
But in a feather-touch that brings joy untold
And shuts out one’s inner screams.

Thus begins the celebration of the heartbeat, knowing that
Gone is the chasm of bitterness;
A life awaits anew.
I say this, for I have once been a shoreless sailor.
Give you such a life, know that our love lives then
As the Heavens doth forever.

Tis my birthday today, and you can’t refuse me.
All I ask for someone, just like me, is a reason to celebrate;
Not just a day, but a life;
A life that gives glories, a life that gives pain,
But above all, a life that brings you home
And prepares you to set sail again.
<strong>Joyasmita Ghosh</strong>
Joyasmita Ghosh

Joyasmita is from West Bengal, India.
Current job: pursuing Graduation course in Mathematics.

Hobbies: Sleeping, watching cartoons, sky-gazing and muser. A hardcore bibliophile and a music lover.
Instagram handle: read_andrelate
Focus for writing: A break from everything boring.

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It Soon Reaches You

It Soon Reaches You

By Peter Anko

It's so close
Very close
Thus why does it seem so far?
As the feet approach
The view gets distant
Luring the heart to walk infinite miles
Grazing along the broad wide road
There lies the path to love
Entangled in a circle

What seemed nigh stands afar
Feet are swollen to the kneel
Strength fades away at each step
From the eyes
Flows two rivers down the cheek
Why should the pursuit seize?
When you've entertained love's wonder
How it mends broken hearts
Keeps hope alive
And stripes stench of sorrow

Its path remains circular
And it soon reaches you
When patience is not exasperating
Best you take a position within
Always alert
Love soon smiles at you
<strong>Peter Anko</strong>
Peter Anko

Hi, my name is Peter Anko, and I was born in the early nineties. I am a Nigerian and a teacher of English Language and literature.

I enjoy reading, writing, editing print and playing the keyboard. Writing is serious for me. I write poems, short stories and screenplays. Someday, I wish to publish my work.
Catch my thoughts on Instagram – Peteranko1

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Zero Gravity

Zero Gravity

By Jeff Thomas

I have been so sick in my life
That the sun and the moon
Ceased to exist
Time was nothing
The days and
The weeks and
The months
Melted together
While I floated
And the rest of the world
Kept moving forward
Around me
Kept moving forward
Passed me

I have been so sick in my life
That the good days
Terrified me
So comfortable in my poverty
That the warmth and the love
Of other people
Made me want to kill myself
In my self-imposed exile
I observed groups of strangers
Laughing and enjoying each other
And felt the sinking feeling
Of my own impotence
I have been so sick in my life
That I've lied through my teeth

Because to get help
And admit my sickness
Would mean
Hurting my family
I am not a man
I am not a human being
I am diminished
I am dehumanized
By the sickness inside of me
I wake up every morning
Into the stench
Of reaching for something
I'll never grasp again
To float is all that I have
<strong>Jeff Thomas</strong>
Jeff Thomas

I grew up in a small rural village in the thumb of Michigan. Currently, I reside in Washington, MI where I work with a sub-contractor to Home Depot as a fence installer.

My most prominent hobbies outside of reading and writing are all related to music. I like to sing and play guitar. The word is out, and I have become the karaoke entertainment for friends and family. I love listening to classic rock records. I love vinyl, and I’m totally addicted to Dylan and Zeppelin and any Jack White project. I’ve made it a point this year to pay attention and listen to new releases in pop and indie music, it has rejuvenated me spiritually/creatively to see so many young people making great stuff. In my spare time I also record stuff for Soundcloud and make cds for people close to me. After a few tumultuous years writing became kind of a therapeutic exercise, it wasn’t until recently when a friend read some of my stuff that I had lying around in notebooks I started considering being published.

My goal as a writer is to keep working on improving my work and get books published. I would love to be travelling and doing readings and meeting people. On tour in 2015 Jack White paused mid Madison Square Garden concert to say “I hope it feels good when you need it to.” And that’s how I feel about my writing. I don’t want people to feel as bad and be as lost as I’ve been in my life. If I can use my writing to help someone take the edge off for just a moment, that’s a beautiful thing. That’ll always be the goal. I’m taking the heaven in me and giving it away. People can follow me on Instagram @jeffthomasprose and they can check out my Spotify playlists and Soundcloud home recordings @jeffreydthomas

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Poetry by Niamh

Poetry by Niamh

As You are Flowering

by Niamh Murphy

You will 
meet people
in your life
who will stamp 
on your stem
when they notice
the blossoming 
rooted in your skin
their crooked roots
intertwined with decay, 
envy rotting their soil
they cannot bare
to see such beauty 
flourish from you

Others you meet
in this life
will water you 
even with their last
turquoise droplet
gently guiding 
as you fumble
finding your way
up and out 
from the earth
they will admire you 
boasting to others
of the purity
within your leaves


By Niamh Murphy

That evening I looked up
losing my eyes in the thick black abyss 
that wrapped the sky so suffocatingly tight
that I wondered how the stars 
did not shatter 
under such pressure 

That evening I looked down
losing my eyes within the crumbling of 
my body as grief tied a knot around my limbs
I wondered how my bones 
did not shatter 
under such pressure

This evening I looked up 
placing my eyes on the azure gleam above 
that glazed so delicately
I understood grief had flown from me
and had strengthened my soul 
under such pressure 
<strong>Niamh Murphy</strong>
Niamh Murphy

I’m from Birmingham in the UK. I’m nineteen years old. I’m living in the beautiful city of Bath as a second year university student! I study creative writing, I absolutely love it. I get to explore so many writing forms, such as journalism, writing for children, life writing and even publishing. This year I’m studying spoken word within my course, which I can’t wait for because I’m performing my poetry. I’m a member of the spoken word society within my uni, which lets young aspiring writers like me share our work. I think this is so important within a university environment as poetry can be so emotionally based, I think it’s so important for uni students to listen to emotional content because they’re words that could help them with their own battles that maybe nobody knows about. Writing has always been a passion of mine, it’s my first love for sure. I’ve been writing poems and my own quotes in notebooks since I was around fourteen.

It’s almost been therapeutic for me, if I’ve had a challenge or a life experience I’ve found hard to digest, I naturally just start writing a poem about it. For example when I experienced grief, I wrote a collection of poems. This was a chronological set of poems, each exploring the individual stages someone encounters when grieving. Within this collection, I personified different elements of
nature as helping the speaker through each step. 

I love including imagery of the sun and moon in my poems, personifying them as beings that want to help and guide us; I also love personifying nature itself as a caring entity. The overall focus of my poetry is to help others with emotions and challenges in life and to embed a positive perception of tough situations so that the reader can be assured there’s light at the end of the tunnel. I love embedding modern issues for people of my age and all ages, such as feeling lost within yourself or worthless. I weave these issues into my writing in ways that provide my readers with fresh outlooks towards hard situations. hey 

I have a book independently published on amazon titled ‘Emotionfull’, that almost takes the form of life advice. I was seventeen at the time and feel my writing style has changed since then, but I’m still proud to have achieved this. I have my poetry Instagram titled @niamhmurphy_poetry and would love it if you give it a follow as it’s where I post my work regularly. I also provide my followers with a little daily thought segment! Thank you so much for your time. 

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Red Roses and Her

red roses and her

By Hareeba Tirmizi

it’s never all good,
read the board 
of the garden she trespassed into. 
The bunch of red roses,
that dragged her out of the colourless world,
stood with their stardom,
in the middle of the land.
Their alluring scent, 
their bright shades,
sure did appear
as a succour in her times of dullness. 

She caressed the petals, 
felt the softness between her fingers,
it had never been this merrier for her. 
The twinkle in her eyes, 
as that of the drops of dew,
resting on the edges of the flower.
She had finally found an ideal ally,
one that would fly her to the content,
she had longed for. 

Courtesy her desires,
with an attempt to grasp them,
to have them alongside when she goes back,
to savour her remaining time,
to keep them to herself forever.
Brooks of the scarlet liquid,
oozed down her arms. 
She was smiling, 
She was hurting,
but she couldn’t let go.
She just couldn’t let go of the blooms,
those blooms she came to know as 
her friends. 
<strong>Hareeba Tirmizi </strong>
Hareeba Tirmizi

I’m Hareeba, a 20-year-old from the city of Rawalpindi, Pakistan. I’m a student currently pursuing Mechatronics Engineering from NUST. 
There’s a long list of my hobbies but writing, especially poetry, tops it. I’m not someone who has studied literature so I don’t really have any genres that I specifically follow or I do not require some incredible inspirations to come up with a write-up. I just write what I had experienced or what I’m feeling at that time of the day. It’s basically my world within words, and in the near future, I’d love to have a book of my own. 
Follow her on Instagram: @hbawrites_

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Inner Child

By Jacklyn Ruth

It’s what we build thick walls to hide.
We wake up every day and put on our armor.
It’s the small child inside us.
It’s that feeling you get when the power goes out and all you have is a flashlight.
We are our own bodyguard, our own vault.
Trying to stash away what others could use against us.
That’s no way to live… Is it?
To live is to take chances, to make mistakes, to get a little messy.
And sometimes, let people get to that soft spot, that child.
Because not everyone is out there to hurt you.
Because some people are worth the risk.
<strong>Jacklyn Ruth</strong>
Jacklyn Ruth

My name is Jacklyn and I’m from Maryland. During the day, I work in Communications but every evening I take to the chair and write poetry, read a book, listen to relaxing Celtic music or play a video game. Writing has been a hobby of mine since childhood. But recently, my ultimate goal has been to have a book of my poems published. I write hoping my words make my readers feel something and that they take something away from my poetry.
Social Media: @jacklynmae.poetry

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A Moral Dilemma

By Anjali Sethi

 A lone walk on the majestic shore of mysteries,
I spot more muck, less peace,
Washed ashore, it catches my eye, 
Mussels atop a plastic bottle living rather peacefully,
So I crouch down, examine the feat,
A miracle at first, I gazed wondrously,
But as these little creatures peeked out in thirst for water,
My awe turned to shock, and then shades of disgust and contempt,
I saw the waves come in search of their family,
Reaching out, but not enough to take them home just yet,

The conundrum was simple,
Shall I take out the trash or save the creatures living on the trash? 
The vicious circle of our littering was far too evident now, 
As I helplessly watched it return into the ever accepting mass of the majestic water body,
I felt myself guilty of ever having to bring myself to this dilemma,
For ever having to pen this for your eyes to read and your mind to register,
The careless conscious crimes we commit,
That have brought us to this,
A moral dilemma.
<strong>Anjali Sethi</strong>
Anjali Sethi

I am a 17-year-old writer based in India. I started writing poetry really early on and started posting on Instagram fairly recently. After a scarring year in depression, poetry became my coping mechanism. I also enjoy cooking, baking and singing my lungs out every now and then, and don’t shy away from the occasional painting. 
You can follow me on Instagram: @donutxcupcake to see more of my poetry. 

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Poetry by Pritha Jain

Love by Pritha Jain

But if love was actually
In the air
Then why did
All the butterflies
In my stomach
Die of suffocation!?

I Don’t Belong to You by Pritha Jain

They ask me to cover 
This pretty skin of mine
They ask me to hide one of the many things
That are supposed to be my pride.
They look at me 
With evil lurking behind their eyes
And I try unsuccessfully to shun them
While they've already undressed me in their minds.
I've learnt to fear an empty bus
And that old deserted street
Oh! Tell me what to do now, in this conundrum
How desperately I want to be free.
I've learnt not to talk back 
Not when I want to spend my entire life in misery.
I feel weightless now
Under their heavy bodies
I feel stupid now
For letting them gang up against me.
I lay empty now
As the wind tries to blow some life into me
I let my tears soak my face
But I know better than to
Become an unsolved case.
I don't want to end up
With a thousand candles lit in front of me
With a thousand walking for me
With a story that'll haunt me forever.
"Get over it" they say
No, let me rephrase
"Be alive"
How can I ever rebuild
This broken soul of mine?
"I'll live", I assure
My mother who's been weeping for weeks
My father who's never left me
But most importantly
That small part of me that's still left to die.
I fight back vigorously
I don't want to disappoint anyone anymore.
They've made me wear
Trousers instead of those cute little shorts
Pants instead of those lacy skirts of mine
An invisible coat of shame
Everyone around me thinks
I'm the one to be blamed.
They've given me scars that'll outlast my age
Am I just supposed to bottle up my rage?
<strong>Pritha Jain</strong>
Pritha Jain

My name is Pritha Jain, and I’m a 14 year old writer/poet from New Delhi, India. I love writing as well as reading and I aspire to become a renowned author. To promote my poems, I started a poetry blog-https://prithajain.wordpress.com/
I consider writing as the best way to express myself and not only do I take it seriously, I enjoy every bit of it. One of my poems has been published in the “100 Best Poems” Anthology by Swipe Pages and some more are about to be published.
Instagram handle is @_penningitalldown_

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Clear Country Constellations

Clear Country Constellations

By Corbin Young

“Stars scattered across the sky”
Makes sense inside the city,
But when country clouds are cleared,
“Scattered” is somewhat understating it. 

Stars are spilled across the sky
In abundant celestial purpose. 

Gaze at the galaxy’s edge,
Etched in lights light years away,
A painted picture before our eyes. 

See the space-bears, 
Ursas delighting to sing their star-songs,
Roaring the Righteousness of God and rejoicing. 

Wave at the Warrior in the sky,
Stuck slaying the Serpent
As a sign to mankind. 

The heavens do declare the Glory of God.

About The Poet

Corbin Young

Corbin Young is a poet who has been writing consistently for about a year, since 2018. He attended a rigorous Classical Christian school for all thirteen years of his pre-college education, and is now attending New Saint Andrews College for a four-year Liberal Arts degree. He enjoys writing as a way to marry beauty and truth and believes that dragons do exist. He is looking to continue writing and possibly teach when he finishes his degree.

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The war in me for equality
For equal pay
Performing quality work 
in the same way
And never needing to be told
Cause I have integrity to uphold
I do what is right
Regardless of whose around
or nowhere in sight
In my skin, I have nothing to hide
Living above reproach
with family on my side
Not the one's that you may think
Most of them prefer 
that I fail and sink
Please don't waste pretense to worry about me
I know who to trust and hold close
Those who are fake
in due time, truth wins
and their lies are exposed

Deanna M Ramirez ©
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