By Rashida Murphy
Like all poetry ought to, these poems offer deeply felt and strongly held visions, observations, narratives and metaphors that resound in the heart before the conscious mind takes in the pared back, dazzling language.
By Nilesh Mondal
Getting drunk
on warm beer
Trembling in their glasses
Fucking behind every door
Littering the gutters with three thousand condoms
Every day.
By Yash Pandit
Babri – Muzaffarnagar – Godhra – Dadri,
The quarrel of colours has bled here too, in my city.
Saffron cuts green; Green slices saffron.
But humans mostly bleed red, in my city.
By Daniel de Culla
Drum-rolling that Paganism is the first
And was destroyed
By the savage and cruel Christians
By Lopa Banerjee
In a tangle of two souls, spread out
Like a flowered skirt, the drunken lovers
Surrendered their lavender blossoms.
By Sanjeev Sethi
While liquefying my lust
I met series of self-portraits
I never knew I had daubed.
By Mubashir Karim
In Love
I want to do to you
What a wind does to a chime.
By Sunandini Mukherjee
You knew her to be one of the morning ragas.
Your girl too, travelled to stormy beaches
Collected pebbles to write to you.
By Tikuli
I open my eyes, light a cigarette,
somewhere time died in misty solitude
and the river between us froze.
By Parasuraman
And the waves I see leaping and frothing noisily in front of me
Giving the noises of the mela a run for their moneys
Could actually be carrying a bit of Amma
(Not that there is much to carry, for salt water to drink)
By Saubhik De Sarkar
This is a returning game
If you say nails, I’ll say disclosure
I’ll evoke letters, on the margin of sunshine
By Sahana Mukherjee
every Summer evening,
my hands shake and I
only write about you
and our inter-caste
same-sex
volatile love.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 