Poetry
CategorySarah and Hagar
Poetry
by Samina Hadi-Tabassum
In the middle of the night
I walk out into the back alley
The sound of coal cars ahead
The full moon right above
There is no one on the streets
Just the coyotes and me
I cross under the viaduct
Then take a sharp left (Read More)
My Brother Deep
Poetry
by Samina Hadi-Tabassum
My brother Deep stands before a mirror in my bedroom
His long black hair dripping water onto the wooden floor
Watching him comb the tangles with a plastic comb
I laugh as I pull the knots out with my tiny fingers…
Going Back to Where I Came From
A Poem by Anuja Ghimire
I’ve given her blood poems
Her pale hands return them, dried
I’ve offered her my young dreams
Sometimes, standing in three feet of snow
With open eyes, when the heat burns holes in the sky
Fifteen years, I’ve carried water
What can I grow in a land that isn’t mine?….
Part I. Coral / Part II. The Corral
A Poem by Ryan Nakano
Part I. Coral
Ahh, the coral
beauty sees the boy &
the boy breathes
thru jagged little gills diver boy dives deep into his back pocket
to pull out a piece of porcelain Made in
his memory begins before he was born
back when grandmother was a mermaid and
the reef he remembers belonged to the gill-less
sea
force of a wave
the tide of war once littered the beach & the boy
surfaces
combs the shore for shells
combs the shore for something to remember the kingdom….
Okinawans and Salt
A poem by Lee A. Tonouchi, Hawai’i’s own Pidgin Guérilla.
My Aunty Jane
loves for make
and eat
Okinawan food,
watch Okinawan programs,
and read all kine books about
Okinawa.
After Pulse
A poem by Mary Anne Mohanraj
His father said: he saw two men kissing
in the street, and it made him angry.
I was eighteen the first time I
spent the night with another girl,
walked back to campus with her
the next morning, wanting to hold
her hand, afraid to.
Okinawans and Garlic
A poem by Lee A. Tonouchi, Hawai’i’s own Pidgin Guerrilla.
My grandma makes it
one habit
for carry cloves
of garlic
in her pants pocket.
In Okinawa, das how
she tell.
Supposed to be
so you no catch cold.
Chris Marker Says: “Love don’t love nobody.”
A poem by Paul Yamada
Prelude
It’s not just the lake and the park
it’s not about residence, no
or physical dwelling, abode
perturbations and back spasms
will follow you like perfume on
the tongue, shirt cuffs and pant legs
if there is nowhere to write here
is there somewhere, anywhere else?
earth dragon
A poem by heather c. lou