When the beat drops
by Tamara Woods
His hands banging drums and
Her hips catching beats.
Fingertips raised skyward
Asking for directions to some pagan god.
He wonders if she smells like the rain
Gently kissing her upturned face.
Music links them
Fluid ocean and steadfast beach,
He wanted her to wash up against his shore
Taking pieces of him with her.
Ebbing and flow.
Linked.
She moves like the steel drums
Birthed her years ago
In a swept away village
Where sun-kissed brows were
Stained with wolf berries
For life and fertility.
Molten golden fire strands catching the breeze
Her feet loses their slipper shackles
Leaving life prints in the sand
Leading him to her.
It would be so easy
To commune with spirits
At her side.
Giving praise to Pele
For surely her ancestors were born
From lava and tears
Leaving legacy on her crown.
And then the music stopped.
Tamara Woods was raised (fairly happily) in West Virginia, where she began writing poetry at the age of 12. She has previous experience as a newspaper journalist, an event organizer, volunteer with AmeriCorps and VISTA, in addition to work with people with disabilities. She has used her writing background to capture emotions and moments in time for anthologies such as Empirical Magazine, her blog PenPaperPad and writing articles as a full-time freelance writer. She is a hillbilly hermit in Honolulu living with her Mathemagician.
Song of Patience
by Vivekanand Jha
Sing a song of glee
Even in the hours of grief
Even iron-tree would turn green
Even stony soul would melt like wax.
Live a life of contentment and peace
Prosperity will knock at your door
Opportunity will peep through your window
Flower and fruit of success
Would bloom even in bald courtyard.
Tread the track of truth
Like soldiers march in step
Follow the sayer of sooth
Like shadow to you
Even from soil of sterile
Sun flower would sprout.
Remember when, how
or what you sweat
that pays prize sooner or late
Your eyes would forget
Last time when they had shed tears,
Sigh would fail to remember
When it breathed a relief out of fears.
Learn the lessons of morals
Forget how to sit on laurels
If such be belief of every individual
There will be none orphan or single.
Kingdom of peace and
empire of tolerance
Would be reinstated
No room would remain
for repulsion and reprisal.
Dr. Vivekanand Jha is a translator, editor, and award winning poet from India. He is a contributing poet to Wavelengths: 2011 Savant Anthology of Poetry which has won first place in the 2011 London Book Festival. He is the author of five books of poetry. He has also authored one critical book on the poetry of Jayanta Mahapatra and edited two critical anthologies on Indian English Novels. He is son of noted professor, poet, and award winning translator Dr. Rajanand Jha.
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