Today’s choice
Previous poems
Amlanjyoti Goswami
Morning Beach in Gopalpur
Those night boats are back.
Fishermen string their nets
Counting fresh catch.
The fish stink.
Flies buzz around crabs.
They are knocking hammer on wood.
I want to take a few steps more
To see what’s going on –
Find them gripping the universe with rough palms
Reborn with the morning sun
Clean beach, white sand, the boats moored
And the rigging endless.
The boat is tied to a block of wood.
The fishermen are immersed in morning
Before they can go home for a snooze.
But I don’t venture any further.
Perhaps it is the stink of fish, perhaps something else.
Perhaps the sun blocks my view.
A sea wall separates us.
There are so many worlds, and I don’t break the wall
That stands between us.
I walk over calmly to the other side
Leaving my mind blank at sea
Still looking for a boat to take me somewhere.
Amlanjyoti Goswami has written three widely reviewed books of poetry, A Different Story, Vital Signs and River Wedding, published by Poetrywala. River Wedding was shortlisted for the Sahitya Akademi Award. Published in journals and anthologies across the world, including Poetry, The Poetry Review, Penguin Vintage, Rattle and Sahitya Akademi, he is also a Best of the Net and Pushcart nominee. His work has appeared on street walls of Christchurch, buses in Philadelphia, exhibitions in Johannesburg and an e-gallery in Brighton. He has reviewed poetry for Modern Poetry in Translation and Review 31. He has read at various places, including New York, Mumbai, Chandigarh, Bangalore, Boston and Delhi. He grew up in Guwahati and lives in Delhi.
Antony Owen and Martin Figura on Remembrance Day
Let fathers bind their sons
to altars, so the wind
might winnow the chaff.
Stephen C. Curro
calm river
again, his fishing line
caught on a tree
James Norcliffe
Sarsaparilla Road
travels through swamps
and reeds, over a black
water creek and a narrow bridge
David Hanlon
Not in that parking lot,
not in that residential area,
not in that blue car
splashed with mud.
Mana Misaghi
we make sure to pack a deck of cards for the train, or a sunday afternoon visit to the park. the cards will give our hands something tangible to do . . .
Taḋg Paul
An algorithm guides me through the keys
Each stanza nested in a formal loop
Mat Riches
Hey kid, this won’t mean that much to you yet,
but I didn’t taste my first proper curry
till at least twenty-one . . .
David Sapp
Aimless between
Dropping out
Of art school
And absolutely no
Friggin’ money . . .
Gareth Writer-Davies
it’s a special kind of empty
the footed earth, saluting the sky
