by MUSKA EHSAN (Afghanistan)
For once, I befriended the night's darkness and calm, realizing even the dark carries a light.
by SOPHIA RAINES (United States)
My mom slaps down some more dough in front of me. To eat, you must create.
by GENEVIEVE SMITH (United States)
Herring fish gather in the shallow stream behind the lake and through the trees.
by FATIMA MOHIUDDIN (Pakistan)
The last move (the best move, the worst move, The Move) was almost four years ago
by KEREN-HAPPUCH GARBA (Nigeria)
The stories they tell me spill out a feeling that the spider web defines perfectly.
by AMALOU OUASSOU (Morocco)
We think it was a lit cigarette
flicked off the wrist of a driver, racing past
by ALENA LIN (Singapore)
With plates of food in hand, you are forced to greet vaguely familiar faces.
by EZIMADU UGORJI (Nigeria)
The children call it "Reverend Father" because the flock of white feathers at its neck seems like the collar on a priest's black cloak.
by LINDA KONG (United States)
moonlight kisses the clouds. It rings, the moonlight, like church bells striking.
by TIFFANY LEONG (United States)
I knew Chinatown best on Saturdays,
the November kind
by IZRAHMAE SUICO (The Philippines)
Today, nature is fit in an open, square bus window with Mama obstructing the moving, alfresco greenery.
by NURA OROOJI (South Africa)
Waterfalls of cream and white,
with leafy laced foam
by NEERAJA KUMAR (India)
Why does the sky appear black from the airplane
even though its sweltering noon on the ground?
by CHRIS LIM (The Philippines)
Jeepney Smoke seeps through the iron rail
to keep him bloodshot. He burrows in the neck