human nature poems

A Dialogue with My Soul | Durgesh Verma

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“I’ve faith in my feathers
which give the ability to fly worldwide
with my 6/6 eyesight.

My light weighted skeleton helps me to hop-
to plash in the cool shallow river
and to prance on the tree top.

Our species live in the flock
which is considered a form of culture.
I’m completely shocked to see man’s nature like the vulture.

I migrate on great distance
without having any hindrance.
But you’ve merely made range.

I have a toothless beak to chirp and to sing.
But you harshly cut down
my wings in a single blink!

You’ve put me in the cage
& have snatched my part of sunshine.
May I know the reason for such heinous crime!”

Crisis Point | HR Creel

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When news of
the deadly asteroid
first broke, everyone
did as they pleased
Then word spread
that the prediction
had been wrong,
and the apologies
poured in for days.

Funny | Haris Adhikari

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Funny, how people pop up
in disguise, or in infatuation, following
to find a fault or two, pasting
honeycombs
on the virtual cliff of today’s culture.
Funny further
how plastic hearts
pulsate life into
moments of wide grins, either by grinning
on the doorway, leaning
a nubile body, revealing
the interior– posh empty
sofa, chair, money plant, erotic
painting lookin’ down
at the empty glass on the table– or by
coming to a long, long emotional appeal,
telling a story of a stranded,
exotic princess in exile, asking
to be an abetter, to send a few
hundred dollars, for some ‘technical reasons’,
to get the royal treasures back– or by conning
into giving your account number
for some unknown American lottery you’ve won!
Who are these people? Don’t they have
any other work to do? Funny,
funny even for a thought!
Om Mani Padme Hum!

More at http://madswirl.com/author/hadhikar/.

Remedy | Edgar Law

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I’m nothing like a remedy
Just a bitter tasting medicine
Proud to be mean sometimes
A real thistle in the flesh
Trying not to be a constant
Smart aleck tear in the quick.

Fish Condominiums | Ryan Quinn Flanagan

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The casual way I flipped through the pages sickened me
I thought of typhoid fever in the sub-tropics
shipwrecks that become fish condominiums under the sea
the homeless man outside in the rain who never once smiled
for lack of teeth
and the way I watched the stairs to see the legs
that would come down them,
then the faces which were always a disappointment,
I felt a sudden aversion
as though distaste and fasting had become the same thing
when I wasn’t looking…
closing my eyes to sun tracers
I decided to flip through six more pages,
then be done with the thing.

Face It | Anita Pitter

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The eyes have their own vocabulary,
They speak in volumes and not just words.
The lips, when in silence, merge together,
Like the folded wings of roosting birds.
The chin holds a stubbornness,
That yields subtly to change, now and then,
The nose, flared when furious,
Breathes steadily and calmly when…
The ears listen to words, unspoken, unexpressed, you see?
The face says it all, it is an open book for you and me.

Whimsy | JD DeHart

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Canned laughter plays
in the background, cascading
in a nostalgic pointing back
Enjoy being a child
when you can, they told me,
hold on to the plastic figures
How I would arrange them, telling
small cinematic stories, articulating
poses, playing music
Real human beings are not so
easy to arrange, and whimsy
went away a while ago.
More at https://dehartreadingandlitresources.blogspot.com.

Sisters of the Vine- 2 | JD DeHart

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One was splashy
citrus, the light summer
grape, pinot grigio
The other, dark-minded
vinegar lady, a stinging
pinot noir lady
Born on the same vine,
how do two varieties
display such distance?

National Call to Service | Francis Annagu

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The weekly newspaper
Announced the government spending.
The road and dam projects
Were abandoned to rowdy campaigns.
The extravagant contractors denied,
Silence of the trucks like the troubled night.
Violent ragtags trooped the streets
With over-heated hands jittering for a fight,
Only for something the vultures roam in the sky,
The eagle’s glory is his prolonged flight.
The call to national service overtakes
The old pot of greed, but the merchants
For the loot, as the famished boy
Throws his stones from the colony of poverty.
This is a national call to serve the people,
Not a call to steal from the national pot.
The vision lied several seasons
On the mountain top, a vision
Of the great to heed the greatest vision.
—–
Francis Annagu is the author of “Our Land In The Beak Of Vultures” (Hesterglock Press, 2017). His works have appeared in Expound Magazine, Potomac Journal, Lunaris Review and others.

Welcome to the Cottage | JD DeHart

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Welcome to the cottage
or should I say, welcome back?
These are the wooden slatted floors
where you first learned
about the predilection of old ladies
in the woods to be villains, to have
ovens, to possess poison apples,
to woo children away from breadcrumb
trails; the same spot where you
learned about the flash and dash
of princes, how often beautiful maidens
fall asleep and must be rescued,
the tender-hearted fair ladies whose
ruddy cheeks decorated so many
late night reads before bed,
and I couldn’t help but notice you
striking a match, preparing to burn down
the cottage, and build your own version
of the world’s story now that you are grown.

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