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May Featured Author: Neetu Malik

April 30, 2019 by in category Featured Author of the Month tagged as , , ,

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.


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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Silence by Neetu

March 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as ,


Silence

between you and me
and the crashing
of the sea

no sound is heard
but that of seagulls
circling in the sky

drop by drop

silence trickles

lengthening each

moment

before it runs dry

© Neetu Malik 


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The Perfect Death by Neetu

January 26, 2019 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as ,
They have been sitting on the porch 
in reclining chairs, an old couple,
watching the world go by
 
each evening the sun's shadows pass
over their faces revealing
nothing more than a few lines
of contentment
 
they never touch, their hands
always resting neatly on their laps,
or sometimes, they hold a glass of wine. 
 
Passersby note with some surprise
how unmoved they are by changes
like when they widened roads
and built that new high-rise
right in front of their little row house,
dug out cherry trees and tall maples
that grew on both sides
 
but no one wants to ruffle sunshine
with questions—
they just wave and smile.
 
Today they sit as usual, 
the last of the sun's rays flicker
grudgingly, a little hesitant, it seems
 
the woman extends her hand,
touches his
 
their eyes meet—
her hand still on his, a quiver
passes her lips,
 
she closes her eyes
as he covers her hand
with his.
© Neetu Malik 


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Perspective by Neetu

November 26, 2018 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , ,

Pers[ective | Neetu | A Slice of Orange

Perspective

You say life is not a poem

or a story—

I ask, “What is it then?”

“Real life”, you say.

 Of course, you know best.

You spend your days

averaging

life’s losses, its gains,

calculating

how much time is left,

working out

logistics while you lie in bed.

Real life gives you pain,

brings a scowl to your face—

you add and subtract,

make no mistakes,

and I,

I just watch

the shadows twitch and yawn

on that wall

across the window

through which the moon

winks at me, sly-faced—

“I’ll be fine”, I say.

© Neetu Malik 

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Introducing Poet’s Day by Neetu

September 26, 2018 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , , ,

Poet's Day | Neetu | A Slice of Orange

Poet’s Day

A Slice of Orange is delighted to welcome poet, Neetu to our rotation of authors.

Neetu’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).

Neetu lives in Pennsylvania, USA and will be publishing a poem on the 26th of each month here on A Slice of Orange. Her column will be titled Poet’s Day.

Enjoy!


A Clock Stops

A Clock Stops

In the shapeless hours

                                        of an endless night

the old clock

                     stops ticking

I hear it chime once

a labored groan, only half-shrill

I do not need to look

at its brass pendulum

to know it is still

all I know this time

unlike all other times is

its motion cannot

be restored.

© Neetu Malik 

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