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Megha Sood Poetry

Poet Megha Sood has had her works been featured in 521 Magazine #Sideshow, Oddball, Pangolin review, Fourth and Sycamore, Modern Literature and more.

Remembrance ( First Published in the Little Rose Magazine)

The old cuckoo has been strangled
rolling in dust
for its coarse and harsh cries
are bringing back the
too hard to bear
too painful to hear

The cobwebs in the old piano
have marked the
crotchet of my memories
with the missing
touch of my lover’s fingers
devoid of its symphony

The broken chair and
cracked mirrors
are storing the reflection
in its cracks
my tongue slaps my cheek
to hear the broken verses
and lost songs
from the past

Those folds in the
holds the warmth of our
supple skin
Too fearful to
lose the memories,
I’m letting the wrinkles
sink in

​The air is heavy and laced
with your memories
in this old dusty room
those specks of dust are
dancing and dangling
intoxicated by the love
of our old moon.

Colloquy ( First Published in The Quiet Letter)

I stand on the balcony and
look for those fireflies in the garden
dancing and circling
around every blade of grass
lighting it up
with the fire in their bellies
I soak the beauty
in those buzzing insects
in the hope they
can fill up the sadness
imbued in
every corner of my life
The noise and the cacophony
of the thousands of the
air conditioner
hanging like tongues
from a dead body
cooling us and
heating up the anger inside
people look like insects
crawling towards their
home smaller
than their hearts
the alabaster moon
hangs low tonight in the
heart of the ashen sky
I snub my cigarette and go back
inside in my house
away from this cacophony
where mind
begins its colloquy with the
the deafening silence
I’m at peace again.

Elements ( First Published in the Writer’s Cafe Magazine)

My soul without the love
an empty poem
Stripped of its beauty
with metaphors
but nothing to compare with.

My mind,
with it’s tangled thoughts
ricochet between the doubts and the certainty
almost sure of the day
when nothing will begin and everything will end
a journey towards Oblivion.

My skin,
devoid of the healing touch and showered with the wet empty kisses
you plant every day on my cheeks
it bears marks of time
sensitive to even the pain
when the time shrugs its shoulder
and the moment end
and my skin still waiting
for that healing touch
fervently to suppress that pain.

My love,
a dream too real
conjured out of thin air
like the magic potion
will heal everything
and that magic elixir
will resurrect me from my darkness
of bone and Ash
my love enough to be real
to be felt with my fingertips
and too surreal
so I can feel the pain
when it leaves my body
gently as it glides
to live in the dimension
separate than mine.

My truth,
a reality too hard to gulp down
your empty throat
when the reality cuts the dreams
with its serrated ends
and stripped off all its frivolity
it stands here naked
staring and gazing at you
with its bloodshot eyes
when you feel shameful
to hold it’s gaze.

So when the pain sits deep inside my
barren womb
like the dead lilies
knotted and tangled together
like the pain of the stillborn
where time eats time
you try to define
my mind,
my soul,
my skin,
my love,
my truth,
/my elements/
pulling and molding it together
to give it a shape and a form
and you realize
how wrong you were all along.

Lonely Moon ( First Published in the Literary Yard)

Time bends on the blade of a grass
proving its existence
and slowly the innocent raindrops
follow the path and
makes an impression in the heart of the earth
slippery and slimy with the monsoon
loneliness carries its weight around my little garden
while the black nightingale
cries and
and the cruel wind carries its hoarse
deep into the oblivion
the eye of the time is twisted
the skin of the time is crimped and
pinched at varied places
and I can see the reflection
of the loneliness in the heron at the
base of the cliff
is he mourning or
he meditating
/who could tell/
pain is invisible
like our own hands in the dark
you feel without really feeling
you discern slowly
without actually
and feel its presence
darkness falls slowly
in your eyes
and I can see the shifty moon
smiling in the heart of skies
a smirk across his face
Can you feel his pain now?




Megha Sood

Megha Sood lives in Jersey City, New Jersey. She is a contributing author at GoDogGO Cafe, Candles Online, Free Verse Revolution, Whisper and the Roar, Poets Corner and contributing editor at Ariel Chart.

Her works have been featured in 521 Magazine #Sideshow, Oddball, Pangolin review, Fourth and Sycamore,KOAN ( Paragon press),Modern Literature, Visual Verse, Vita Brevis, Modern poetry, Spill words Press, Indian periodicals, Literary heist, Little Rose Magazine, The Quiet Corner, Writer’s Cafe Magazine, and coming up in Dime Show review,Piker Press, The Stray branch and many more. Her poetry has recently been published in the anthology “We will not be silenced” by Indie Blu(e) Publishing and upcoming in two other anthologies by Us and Canadian Press.

She recently won the 1st prize in NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Mental Health Poetry contest. She blogs at https://meghasworldsite.wordpress.com/.

Twitter: @meghasood16
Instagram: @meghasworld16
Published inPoetry

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