Karen O'Leary & Paul Callus write

 [The good news is that I'm bringing a new writer from Malta in the submission below, a collaborative tan renga poem.] 

the grating sound

of pebbles on a

wave-teased beach…

a toddler tries to capture

the lake in his pail

Sunil Sharma & Karen O'Leary write

No Cries for the Poor

 

Dusk waits 

as the homeless guy

sad, forlorn stands

on Christmas Eve

on 42^nd Street

in New York

 

When New Year’s

kicks in, the kind

gentleman dies

on the street, a purple

heart in his pocket—

no one to take him in

-- Ralph Steadman

Karen O'Leary writes

Out of the Dust

In an austere habitat

of nettles and weeds,

the sun scorches

any flowers or plants

that fail to acquiesce

to the desolate scene.

Pompous and contrary,

this desert does not

bother to feign a reason

for its predilection.

Between two rocks,

nascent buds hide

until the day . . .

Mariposa lilies bloom.

 

Mariposa Lillies -- The Painting Gardener

Karen O'Leary & Sunil Sharma write

The Wolf Howls

 

I have seen evening

sad and coughing

like an old widower

in a solitary home

in suburban Mumbai.

 

~~it's the hub of riches~~

 

On a train, a woman

is molested as another

passenger filmed

a video “gone viral.”

I weep for her pain.

 

~~and violence hits

YouTube around

the world…the norm

and addiction to hate~~