Are they men?

featured in the poetry forum April 17, 2018  :: 0 comments

Happy.
Hopeful.
Playing hopscotch.
Giggles galore.

Broken.
Bleeding.
Shamed.
Bruised, black n blue.

A wail silenced.
A breath snuffed.
A hope killed.
Humanity disgraced.

Red spilled on the horizon,
Shame smeared their souls;
An excruciating pain plundered…
Deafening shouts shook the earth.

But those men celebrated their loot,
Their masculinity forced on innocents;
Are they really men?
Because God made men as saviours,
Not to damage and violate.

editors note:

No better words than this poet’s own: The recent rape cases in India have disturbed me. For all the little children around the world and grown ups who have gone through the ordeal, or of any kind of abuse. This message is for the aggressors to do a rethink. – mh clay

The Boy by the Window

February 17, 2018  :: 0 comments

The boy by the window looked out and wondered what was special about the day. It was same as yesterday, identical to any other day. He was prohibited to look out of the window. He thought of how and why such restrictions were imposed on him. In his heart, he knew the truth. His parents didn’t know any better. They …

Bloody Rock

September 10, 2017  :: 0 comments

The sun was blazing green hues, the earth was sprouting blood like dust. The wind was icy and heavy- almost suffocating. Sunburnt twisted limbs dug. They fissured the serum of earth with violence and tickled the tarnished soil with their sickles and spades. Each brutal sweat evaporated into miasma. The wailing chill swallowed the filth, the trauma. Violence sniffled into …

The Fever

featured in the poetry forum February 6, 2017  :: 0 comments

Dreading the dead,
The cacaphonic wail;
That sinister moon,
The shivering child,
Ran up the stairs;
Covering his head,
In Momma’s hair;
Ignoring that stench,
That soaked-
Momma’s bed.

Cold as marble,
Still sweating a rain;
With shaking hands,
The child again,
Grappling the dark;
Pulled the blanket,
To cover his Momma;
All in vain.

Momma so still,
No flicker of breath,
Lay inert;
In the land of dead!
A sudden crash,
Shook the child;
Sirens blared,
Threatening the babe!

The sound a gong,
Of volcanic make;
Were they taking
His Momma away?
Shaking in shock,
He cried in pain
“Child, it’s a fever!”, she whispered
“Momma’s right here.”
Holding his Momma tight,
The child slept again.

editors note:

Life as a near-death experience. (Her short stories have already splashed in the Swirl, but now we are pleased to welcome Kleio B into our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her poetry madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Knife Skills

featured in the poetry forum June 21, 2016  :: 0 comments

Callously –
She stared at the quarry,
Methodically –
She sharpened the knife.
Deftly:
She ripped off the skin,
Chop:
Chopped dismembered,
After all a stew tastes best;
With onions done well.

editors note:

A justified killing; no tears for the dead. – mh clay

Internet Scam

featured in the poetry forum September 18, 2015  :: 0 comments

Slowly the poison spread,
Surreptitiously it smiled,
You tried to resist-
Alas you were entwined!

While they talked about love,
They only sold false hope,
Caught in that trap,
Your mystery unfolds.

When you are still alone,
Your timeline’s full of notifications;
You scroll till the end,
But you still have no friend.

You call it social media,
I call it a failed hope,
Wrapped around your finger,
It’s rapping on your toes.

When will you get up?
Shun this make belief clan?
Meet real people, wave an arm?
Shove away this internet scam?

editors note:

Soon… Yes! Right away… we will… First… one… more…. twitch o’ the thumb… (Kleio has moved us with her madness in Short Stories. Nice to see her poetry here.) – mh clay

The Weary Enforcer

January 27, 2015  :: 0 comments

Her hands hurt. With great effort she whipped them. Born in the family of enforcers, she was destined to live cruelly and punish offenders. The queue of little labours persevered with their burdens, sometimes their backs broke with the weight. She would strike the poor creatures until they shrieked in action. With the advent of winters, she became brutal. There …