appreciation, bangla, passion, patriotic,
by Tasmina Hayat Khan |
Bangladesh my Homeland,
Bangladesh my Dreamland,
Bangladesh I love you,
Bangladesh, I live for you.
The green flag out of the red ball,
Plays the flute on golden grains tall.
The motion of charming water lily,
Reminds all Tigers to snatch back lost glory.
Oh my Homeland, Oh my Mother!
Hence you’re rewarded with plenty of river,
The Hilsha and its silvery shine
Makes the magpie lovely dance at rain.
Our fishermen and their vessels,
Make the motherland ample
And secure thy royal castle.
Each tissue of thy Jack-fruit,
Can meet up hunger and play flute
We love you, we love our Bangla
Pretty Mom, you’re softy-sweetie Bangla!
by Annabelle Jane |
He thought she was a magpie,
For she set her sights on radiant things,
And her indigo wings were
Polished like jet.
Little did he know
That the treasure she sought
Was the sole, bloodied stone he kept
In his chest.
by stephen clarke |
death, funeral, loss, lost love, sad, christmas, christmas,
As christmas mounts decembers passing
we huddle in your absence.
Our eyes earthbound in aversion
of the stinging words etched upon the marble.
A solitary magpie skipping over the crystallised blades
highlights my purpose at your graveside.
Your first christmas misspent in the depths of the earths
are my thoughts as my eyes thaw the ground beneath.
by INGA BERIASHVILI |
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,
Pitied is the vanity of sheer vengeance-
For lying in justice is seldom truth
And petty satisfaction in mere penance.
The Magpie, all swathed in day and night,
Shall weep into the genesis innocence,
But beware what skulks in black and white,
For crocodiles’ tears bear dissonance.
Ignorance is the key to Hades’ gate-
It bleeds and forgets mortal guilt,
In the benevolent the Devil lurks and awaits
The destruction of the crucifix goodwill built.
Oh Magpie, what divine hands forged thy evil eye?
Yet bestowed an unlikely love so smooth,
A Magpie’s lie is never a lie,
And its truth is never truth.
by Samuel Durant |
Everyone is listening,
and being empathetic.
Holidays are meaningless.
Isn't it great?
The less you wash your hands
the more you catch feelings,
just never wear gloves.
And oh my, I don't know why,
but, with my eye up to your thigh
I can see the sky, a greasy magpie
I love it when you
into my psyche
take a chunk
or two outta me,
and set me free
by Brian Strand |
the red kite whistles
to it's mate soaring above..
from their nest of love
chatter in the sky
northwards,in neat formation
migrating geese fly
a magpie arrives..
the starling's melody dies-
soundlessly death cries
just one flap of wings-
the sparrow-hawk makes its kill
pouncing down at will
by Caren Krutsinger |
Raymond Magpie fell in love with a crow.
When she was around, he was a glow.
It cannot be true!
Said Mother Prue.
I will bring him home by his big toe.
So she did what she said she was going to do.
She dragged Raymond Magpie by his left shoe.
There he stays
Pinning his days
Wishing his mama was not a racist shrew.
by James Smyth |
Brilliantly Blue Sky with Wispy Wondering Nebulous Cumulus Clouds
A bench. The scarred magpie
The dull thud of realisation
Easily mistaken for a heartbeat
And our conversation;
Itself a Venn diagram of times very non linearity
Our elliptical orbit spun me dizzyingly to it's furthest reaches and back again
Events of a million years ago fondly remembered
But for you and I