By Hari Alluri
Where are you now? Must we say farewell tonight? So many of us wonder. God sobs in my arms, a wounded gazelle tonight. They...
Explore Poems: Ghazal
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- By Rebecca FoustIt’s the same house, same rugs, same wallpaper, and bedroom repeating; same dresser; same rocker. Same...
- By Edil Hassanit is dark here & still you have al nur at your neck when fajr does not come my body is the color of...
- By Zeina Hashem BeckThe herons were no longer safe in the sky. They flew with prayer, then fell to us. We hid them from ...
- By Willie PerdomoWe used to say, That’s my heart right there. As if to say, Don’t mess with her right there. As if, don...
- By Tarfia FaizullahLice? My aunt once drew a comb through my hair steady; she wouldn’t let what feeds on blood eat my inner...
- By Jalal al-Din RumiWhere did the handsome beloved go? I wonder, where did that tall, shapely cypress tree go? He spread...
- By Angel NafisKnow what the almost-gone dandelion knows. Piece by piece The body prayers home. Its whole head a veil...
- By Jamila Woodsbeverly be the only south side you don’t fit ineverybody in your neighborhood color of white hen brown...
- By Patricia SmithGotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie...
- By Agha Shahid AliI’ll do what I must if I’m bold in real time. A refugee, I’ll be paroled in real time. Cool evidence...
- By Kyle DarganName one revolution whose inception was unlike a fist. Factions disparate, then tucked together—coiled...
- By Anthony MadridIt is with words as it is with people: Actual beauty is rare. We call things beautiful, not as such,...
- By Luisa A. IgloriaAnd the high winds bore down, and the sky built up that grey wall: derecho. The taverns by the sea closed their...
- By Kazim AliWith thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain. Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying ...
- By Marilyn ChinI. I hate, I love, I don’t know how I’m biracial, I’m torn in two Tonight, he will lock me in fear In...
- By Agha Shahid AliPale hands I loved beside the ShalimarPale . . . Shalimar The epigraph is from a 12-line poem entitled...
- By Aimee NezhukumatathilI’ve noticed after a few sips of tea, the tip of her tongue, thin and red with heat, quickens when ...
- By Evie Shockleyhe’s as high as a georgia pine, my father’d say, half laughing. southern trees as measure, metaphor. highways ...
- By Anthony MadridHE has no gift for friendship, for he is void of all curiosity. Or rather, He’s only interested in matters...