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Poetry (1) Jade Edition 

Autumnal Manoeuvre

Today is Matin's Birthday

Cosmic View

That Foreign Student

Autumn Foliage

Autumnal Manoeuvre

Transformation can be a painstaking process, but eventually, cathartic. Removing veneers from the face that defines your true self, is truly liberating. ‘Autumnal Manoeuvre’ describes the travails experienced in this emancipating and healing process

There is little

in the name of tangible objects

that can comfort me

A lot is gradually shifting

inside of me

with autumnal manoeuvre of wind

Temporary home of my soul

craves dissociation

from invisible mortal wounds

Shattered promises

merged with the pathways

where unfulfilled dreams once lay

Time, like an evil djinn,

doesn’t let the future arrive

until present becomes past

Unthinkingly erasing

the labels of relationships

that once defined my identity

Sliver of moon

in the darkness of night

defines the traces of my life story


A multipotentialite, Suneet Madan is forever connecting the life dots with insatiable curiosity. Over the years, she has evolved as a poetess to develop a style of her own, expressing myriad thoughts in a minimalistic manner. She has won many awards and laurels in poetry. Her works have been widely anthologized. A travel-buff, Suneet’s exposure to different cultures and rituals has enriched her in multiple ways, impressions and expressions of which can be found extensively in her artworks and writings.

Balloons Floating in the Air

Today is Matin’s Birthday!

Isolation and sequestering are the unsavoury by-products of the pandemic years. Matin’s birthday becomes symbolic of the forced separation from dear ones, experienced by a troubled world.

you say. 13?

                                    My, how he has grown since the pandemic swept in.

I wish we could see him,

                                    Visit him, hug him, tell him I love him.

Everything has change.

                                    I remember holding him, he was weeks old

I remember feeding him apple sauce, pushing his stroller so he could see trees,

                                    So he wouldn’t be inside all day staring at his mother’s back.

I remember holding his hand and walking by houses to kindergarten,

                                    I taught him to count, to know colors, the alphabet,

                                                To enter the covered slide alone

                                                            And I would wait at the bottom to catch him.

He was naturally well behaved, (except for those terrible twos),

            I taught him how to box, defend himself physically and verbally,

                        How to talk to girls.

I see his face on video calls,

            He says he is OK, but his face says DEPRESSION:

The war has changed everything.


Stephen Page is part Native American. He was born in Detroit. He holds degrees from Palomar College, Columbia University, and Bennington College. He has 4 books of poetry published. He loves his wife, long walks through woodlands, nature, solitude, peace, meditating, spontaneous road trips, motorcycles, smashing cell phones with hammers, dog-earing pages in books, and making noise with his electric bass. 


Cosmic View

The poet draws up some breath-taking images of natural beauty and sets them in lyrical verse. The image of an evening where stars gather on tiptoe, walks the reader into a world of calm beauty and serene charm.


above the railroad hill

stars gather on tiptoe

to wink or stare

us closer. 

At the proud top  

we’re precious 

little nearer stars, moon

than where we stood 


And though we read

the moon keeps moving

two inches

farther from Earth

each year

its long quivery fingers 

still braid us quick 

with silver

before a train whistles

us home.


Carol Kanter's  poetry has appeared in over seventy journals and anthologies.

She describes her poetry as “accessible.” She and her photographer

husband have put together three art books on Africa; India, Nepal and

Bhutan; and SE Asia. See

Looking for a Book

That Foreign Student

The poet sketches the woes of students, who have come to foreign shores to carve out a bright future, but find themselves alone, outsiders in a new and alien world.

“Butterflies, red and blue,

alight on golden thistle.”

He’s from a river province.

That’s what he tells his classmates if they ask.

Like he says he came to America

for a Western education.

It’s as meaningless to them

as the books he reads,

all jumbled characters,

like something more at home

inked on an upper forearm

than the page.

In the park, by himself,

he’s writing a letter to his mother,

a heavy-handed calligraphy,

lying about the friends he’s made,

how well he’s doing,

unable to sketch the solemn phrase,

“I’m too homesick to study.”

Then he opens a notebook

of some poems he’s written.

Nearby, butterflies, red and blue,

alight on golden thistle,

just like he said they would.

John Grey
 is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.

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