Archive for the tag Poems

acatalepsy

The universe tells you nothing. But when I first laid my eyes upon her left shoulder, and saw a tiny, black mole all this logic was gone.

Poem: Gulmohar Tree

Shyam and Bunty Sucking on ripe mangoes, Skipping school And so, in the cool shade of the Gulmohar tree, They bend and break their first ever rule.

Poem: Pink

The luminous room was welcoming, A place where he was transformed, Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, This is where his life reformed.

Poem: A Year

we've (made it through) / one day at a time / (hurdles crossed together) / still figuring and (navigating)

Poem: Just A Person

Here, bisexuality is more like bye sexuality like gay, but not gay enough, like double the options (or so you think) but eight times the panic.

Queer Poet Richard Siken Needs Your Support!

Given the sudden change in his circumstances, we—as Richard’s publishers, community of friends, and extended family of writers and readers who’ve come to love his work over the years—need to rally financial support to help him through the coming months.

Poem: Infatuation

My voice could never make a sound Hers is like silence twirling around Even a sigh could reach her and shy away

Poem: Smell

Will you grab me by the throat And try erasing a passionate mistake you once made Or ask me if I'm doing fine And I'd say, how could I? When I'm deprived of the presence that once gave me life.

Poem: A Naïve Sin

I stand still looking down at your hand holding the knife, My body is trembling with fear but you want me to pay you with my life. The spectators want me to plead for forgiveness in this time, So forgive me, for I didn't know love was a crime.

Poem: She

She calms me, Like the ocean after a life in the harsh desert. I touch her and the pulse paints a vivid picture, In my inward eye, she’s my Austen and my Kahlo.

The Jasmines Don’t Grow Anymore

I was no rebel And this, was a rebellion Him, oh! how he still made his Abbu proud The man stood up against the fire For the country that he loved more than his life

Poem: Our Lips Meet

I bite on to his wet neck and shoulders The salt - reminiscent of oceans And whole horizons His body letting out a deep moan Like smoke rising out Of smouldering amber.
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