Don’t Tell Them

August 26, 2020 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik with 0 and 0
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Don’t Tell Them

It was in April they met
when rain washed away
their loneliness

hand in hand they walk
in meadows sprouting
soft blades of grass,
young and lush
their love, tender as buds germinating
from dormant seed, throbbing
with promises they swear to keep

unaware yet of summer’s heat
or autumn’s last blaze,
no icicles to freeze
the flow in their veins

so it should be, better not tell them
what awaits.

© Neetu Malik

Author Bio
Author Bio
Born in India, Neetu has lived in Austria, England, and Canada before settling in the Eastern USA in 1994. Neetu’s eclectic work reflects her diverse background as she explores the joy and darkness of the human condition in poems and stories noteworthy for their intensity in brief span. Her poetry is published in journals and Anthologies from Australia, USA, UK, and India. 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.
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THE OCOTILLO REVIEW SUMMER 2018 VOL 2.2

THE POETIC BOND V

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THE POETIC BOND V

THE POETIC BOND VI

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THE POETIC BOND VI

THE POETIC BOND X

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THE POETIC BOND X
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Born in India, Neetu has lived in Austria, England, and Canada before settling in the Eastern USA in 1994. Neetu’s eclectic work reflects her diverse background as she explores the joy and darkness of the human condition in poems and stories noteworthy for their intensity in brief span. Her poetry is published in journals and Anthologies from Australia, USA, UK, and India. 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.

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