‘Untagged’ in GloMag Sept 2016




I do not remember
the things you said to me
about me, for me
I keep no tabs, no written words
no saved files, no cut-copy-paste replicates
nothing to prove their existence
and ruthlessly level any secret hollows
where they might creep in unnoticed
and with passion, couple

Still they survive
curling up into tender silences
when we meet
stretching out the little time between us
into valleys
®Reena Prasad

Don’t Play Along

dsc08487The edge of the bed
No more dreams
Too much of giving
The unspent mile hurts

I wouldn’t know
How could I
Gaping at bursts of green
while an ocean bursts
Bring out the bottles, no more time
Soak in the sun, run down the line
They see you sing, they smirk, they drink
then belt out your words
and strum something

It is you they play upon
It is me, your song tells it all
Then they go home leaving you alone
and cry themselves to sleep
All alone

All alone, do you not see
All of us
The way it has always been
The edge of the bed
No more dreams
The guarded mile hurts
Let it go its way
Just the edge of the bed
I cannot belong
This is no life
This is a sad song


100TPC — 2016


Welcome to The BeZine’s online,
virtual 100,000 Poets for Change event!

This past week, an international aid convoy in Syria was attacked with devastating results, during a ceasefire. Bombs went off, as usual, in Iraq. They also went off in New Jersey and New York. There were terrorist knife attacks in Jerusalem. And knife attacks also in St. Cloud, Minnesota. Police shot (at least) two unarmed African-Americans in the United States. Police shot “terror suspects” in Israel. Iran arrested dissidents. China gave a dissident’s attorney a 12-year sentence.

Climate change has reduced the arctic ice sheets at record levels, this summer just ended. The Fertile Crescent, where Western civilization began, has suffered such a devastating drought that farmers have fled it for years now—a contributing cause to the Syrian civil war and the refugee crisis. The hardened, drought-stricken soil in the region, broken up by heavy war-machinery, artillery shelling, and bombs, has…

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This post is for The BeZine’s online,virtual 100,000 Poets for Change event.
The 100TPC themes are peace, sustainability, and social justice.


Why should it matter
if I am a common cur
uncollared, untagged
tail free to wag?
Does it lessen me in any way
to be unaffiliated to another?
Does it make you see red
and chafe at the chains around your neck,
or arms or ankles?

for even the ones that tinkle
ultimately lock you in
So you try to have me mapped

Spread-eagled I wait while
my eyes, sound, shape, colour, dress
and words are pinned
to a name
a place
a tongue
a profession
a family
a community
an ideology
a crime
a sex
an adjective or several
till you run out of tags
And I am cut into perfect squares and
stowed safely away
into the boxes in your brain

A lone tusker
isn’t conducive to trust
He comes bearing roguish tags
being the freest of us all
©Reena Prasad

Reena Prasad’s Poems – ALEPHI

Three poems in Alephi.com- “a new online Magazine from the Indian Subcontinent for all kinds of literary works in English”
Camouflage‘, ‘Duryodhan‘ and ‘Un-domesticating‘ published on 21st September 2016.

Camouflage My hair grew all white the night I met my grandmother prodding at the base of a rose bush with a long stick Snakes Grandma? I asked Egg shells, dear said she a little

Source: Reena Prasad’s Poems – ALEPHI

OVER THE RAINBOW : Sophie Boswell

Pamukkale, Turkey                                                                             Pic:Reena Prasad

Very honoured to share a poem by Sophie Boswell, author of Breaking Loose, The Power Of Feng Shui and Journey Of The Mind on my blog. Thank you  Sophie Boswell for your kindness in allowing me to do so and for your generosity.   DO read ‘Over The Rainbow”. In her own words, it is “simple with a little message” but for me it is the infinite wisdom that nothing will wait forever, everything worth dying for lies just here, in full view. Oh for a little courage to stretch those fingers and clasp it! 


You know the childhood story, about the pot of gold
The one to go on searching for, until you’re frail and old
Well, I’m here to tell you that they got the ending wrong
‘Cause it’s not a pot of gold, that will help make you strong

So don’t waste your life, searching long and hard
When the happiness you see can be found in your own back yard
You see, finding the end of the rainbow, can take a long, long time
And when you eventually get there, you’ll find there’s not a dime

YOU are the gemstone of your life
And travelling along that pretty curve, can bring you lots of strife
So the thing I found to aim for, was to make mental jumps
I finally jumped over the rainbow after flattening little bumps

‘Cause gold is just a metal that can melt and flow away
While knowledge and wisdom will fuel you, come what may
So when you read to children, about that pot of gold
Teach them to jump hurdles, to see their dreams unfold.
©Sophie Boswell
From “My Treasure Trove of Poems”

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