Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived. She has contributed to The Australia Times Poetry Magazine, October Hill Magazine, Prachya Review, among others. Her poems have appeared in The Poetic Bond Anthology V and VI published by Willowdown Books, UK, NY Literary Magazine’s Tears Anthology and Poetic Imagination Anthology (Canada).
Her poem, “Soaring Flames”, was awarded First-Place by the NY Literary Magazine (2017). She has also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, 2019 for her poem “Sacred Figs” published by Kallisto Gaia Press in their Ocotillo Review in May, 2018.
Neetu lives in Pennsylvania, USA.
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tonight
the silk moon weaves me
into its silver streams
the day
creased and gritty
washed, dried
folded away
this moment
I linger in solitude
caressed by that moon
so perfectly round
eyeing me through
the window
a wink
I think I perceive
the acceptance
lulls me slowly
to sleep
© Neetu Malik
don’t tell me how much
you love me, not now
when days are fragrant
with lavender
and the earth’s pulse
throbs with the beat of every heart
and I hear yours
make no promises when
the scent of moonflowers
rides on the night breeze
through the window
wait until fluttering wings
have flown south
the sky is muted
and snow has padded
the ground
until the air wears
a winter shroud
tell me then how much
you love me
on the longest night
and if you’re still
by my side
© Neetu Malik
November draws me
into bleak arms
I wonder where the leaves
have gone—
though I know, yet I walk in
nameless hope
of miracle
in this ghastly fog
so dense, so deep that
I am lost
stepping on crumbled
autumn stalks
I remember your face
with wisdom drawn,
how it still shone
after its light was robbed
but now there’s just me,
the part that’s left of your artery
the purple sunset a reminder
of approaching dark,
who I am and how
mortal we are.
© Neetu Malik
crow flies overhead
I hear pandemonium
shrieking birds gone berserk
my peace disturbed
through my window
I peek
to see a world gone awry
a baby bird in its beak
the black crow on sleek wings
no match for smaller things
always comes back
to Darwin
© Neetu Malik
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