Search Results for: Poetry

POETRY | HIT by Charles Chiam

She took aim Under the pale moon Her poisoned arrow Ready for her victim The graceful beast Feasting, unaware She fired Fast, silent Deadly Right between The greed-filled eyes Of the arrogant poacher The goddess smiled Having slain Another cruel idiot Though more will come She will be ready For her arrows Always hit their marks *** Header image by Steve Harvey on Unsplash. Hey guys, we’re looking for more short stories, poems and essays. If you’ve got some and aren’t shy to share it with the world, please drop us an email at editors@eksentrika.com. Oh, do read our Submission Guidelines first....

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POETRY | The Leaking House by Ismim Putera

The house leaks As above, so below The rainwater tracks along the ceiling board Drenching all the dust And drips silently Onto my face At first I thought it was my tears From looking at The old house. The house leaks As above, so below Rainwater rushes through the cracked tiles Flooding all the sand And seeps softly Onto my feet At first I thought I was standing On a vast ocean surrounding The old house. The house leaks As above, so below But the love inside it, Never ran out, We swept the floor We dried the room...

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POETRY | The Durian Tree by Jayati Roy

There once stood a durian tree, In front of my gate, Solitary, twisted and bare, A forlorn state it did depict, Its age you couldn’t tell. Its branches hung high, Twisted like a snake, Black and mouldy, with parasites running wild, Its leaves stuck out in places. ‘It’s dead the neighbours lamented.’ Then one fine day the tree had a gleam, White flowers appeared as if in a dream. Little baby durians poked out their heads, And laughed at us, As if they had returned from the dead. ‘Don’t cut that tree,’ was my father’s cry, Some day it’ll...

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POETRY | Wakedness by Krishen Mohan

A wakedness is bleeding in, The weight of which crushes, Down into the earth, Pressed into a reluctant slumber. But there around the fringes, Though this  boulder sits heavy, Light bleeds in, Hinting freedom exists yet. The days race by, Choice turns to prison, A river runs dry, Dread and distant. The reaver of yellow, Stalks part from grain easy, A sickling blade bleeds hollow, Rash and ragged, hurried heresy. *** Header image by Benjamin Zanatta on Unsplash.  Hey guys, we’re looking for more short stories, poems and essays. If you’ve got some and aren’t shy to share it with the world,...

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POETRY | Moon by Charles Chiam

The Moon Represents my heart To those unknown I look nice On the outside But, look closer, I am flawed I am ugly I have been hit Injured, and scarred But, It matters not I am still loved By those who care Friends Who are truly Curious About me When I play With my rabbits They join me They help me Take one small step So that I will Take one giant leap *** Header image by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash Hey guys, we’re looking for more short stories, poems and essays. If you’ve got some and aren’t shy to share it...

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