SHORT POEM NEW SLAVERY Short Poem by R.K. Singh AI-generated image From the 15th floor window I watchdreams racing on the muddied roadthe ugly beauty of tomorrowthe romance of the miserablethe egot…
New Slavery

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EXPECTATIONS
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Love Begins
NASA
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shark vs the universe

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Xuebing Du

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Misplaced Lens Cap
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@rksingh1950
SHORT POEM NEW SLAVERY Short Poem by R.K. Singh AI-generated image From the 15th floor window I watchdreams racing on the muddied roadthe ugly beauty of tomorrowthe romance of the miserablethe egot…
New Slavery
My newest poetry book published in October 2025 and available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.in/-/hi/dp/B0FV8WXDSB
My poetry book published last year.
44 Pasi Infratiti Constanta-Yokohama 1977-2021, versiunea Hindi
(via https://youtube.com/watch?v=lAvYM0nnhkQ&si=WApgRQa-FIDVpyki)
FREAKY BODIES Mood of the moment seductive in dullness eternal eros: changing constantly inside now says she hates my scent taunting the old pain in the brothel of bed kitchen or shower she fears the freaky bodies snaky arousal and peak through sucking hisses thuds and soft screams repeated in sync dripping down until next round of silence with back to…
GELID MORNING
Gelid Morning
written by: R. K. Singh
@profrksingh
Her gelid look haiku refuse to rise– winter’s landscape twirled leaves on the wind’s waves itch fissured memories
words shape no sense and mind spins helplessness in cold quietude bones creak in aging cage await final decay
Two Poems & Ten Tanka Poems by Ram Krishna Singh
Search My Own Music
Dull notes of life
await re-ordering--
rhythm and pitch
behind closed walls humming
to search my own music
shake the silent soul
before the final beat
create symphony
merging truth and dream on
lips and eyes that’re alive
Body's No Picnic
Not too many issues
yet enough to upset
the mind of men and women
in postlapsarian world:
she blames me for changing size
shifting shape and cracking bones
aching joints and sleeplessness
menopausal ups and downs
she kicks me out of bed
saying my body’s no picnic
I know it’s difficult
to be a woman and wife
working and making home
I may be no saint
in your eyes but I never
tried to remake you
in my own or God’s image
I can’t give birth like you
nor can I stop the changes in you
I’ve no miracle pill
your body, your anger
I love you as you are
let’s carry no useless weight
Ten Tanka
Sealed vial
a product of time
I am
cut open and see
how life spends me
***
Anal bleeding
overweening reliance
on faith healing
leshies inside astray
limping hope and hairy age
***
Much before they script
new jihad for romance--
racist purity
in a cracked mirror each one
looks for share in the grabbed moon
***
Half-drunk women
on one side of the road
pimps on the other
ready to seize first-timers
to the tin box by street lamps
***
While I sit still
how my shadow moves
the little flame of candle
tossing against the wind
or wheedling passion nestles
in the grey of mound
***
Standing on a cloud
look through an open door way:
desires awakened
before I could step inside
the door closed, I missed my chance
***
Unquenched thirst
more and more indulgence
momentary pleasure
she says it’s enough now
rein the horse and seek the missed
***
Unemptied
the cup of remorse—
begging bowl
before the dumb deity
years of noisy silence
***
God has become
a habit in helplessness
faith a deception
when unable to enjoy
love, life and wonders of world
***
Stars on the earth
these glow-worms I want to clasp
into hands and
offer to God as flowers
of my first obeisance
HUES OF PASSION: Micropoems
Stains of honeymoon
the sun and clouds:
sky’s gentle embrace
time can’t erase
hues of passion
I clasp your hands
and feel the blood
running savagely
through your arteries
in tulip silence
her beauty
smells the soil that sings
grace in look:
I whisper my heart and chase
the glow her shadow spreads
at the swimming pool
he asks if he could borrow
her underwear just
to feel her from inside
with fidgeting currents
the wind lifts
her curved nudity
in the water curtain
I touch the strings that whisper
love in each falling drop
when she stretches her legs for me
to shave the pubic hair we hit
the hay together remembering
the first night I gave her nothing
in my hurry to see her nude
sitting in armchair
she tells her maid how not to
share the secret rose
wet with dew or red with fire
at the heavenly entrance
softness dies
in his pressure
much pleasure
melting elements
feed the soul in flesh
in the white of night
sighs for supreme delight
steal tender pleasure
manipulating wetness
in bed unmask simple sin
unquenched thirst
more and more indulgence:
momentary pleasure
she says it’s enough now
rein the horse and seek the missed
--R. K. Singh
ENEMY
Back to the wall
chained to the past
enemy pulls
where is the breath
of fresh air
to move forward?
--R K Singh
Join this discussion in the Deep Underground Poetry Forums.
Five Poems by Prof. Ram Krishna Singh (R. K. Singh)
Five Poems:
BODY’S NO PICNIC
Not too many issues
yet enough to upset
the mind of men and women
in postlapsarian world:
she blames me for changing size
shifting shape and cracking bones
aching joints and sleeplessness
menopausal ups and downs
she kicks me out of bed
saying my body’s no picnic
I know it’s difficult
to be a woman and wife
working and making home
I may be no saint
in your eyes but I never
tried to remake you
in my own or God’s image
I can’t give birth like you
nor can I stop the changes in you
I’ve no miracle pill
Your body, your anger
I love you as you are
let’s carry no useless weight
TOO FAR THE SUN’S SKY
Perfumeless my bustan
I couldn’t be a letter of the masters
passed years in the soul’s waste
to be what I could never be
the few bonuses now burden
like the body’s sickness stick dust
the wrinkled skin, the holes in vests
herald sorrows of Venus
too far the sun’s sky to borrow
warmth to keep the rose smelling
A MUTED VOICE
I can’t hear my self
their noises erase my world
choices are denied—
questions of being wound me
courage and strength fade away
they mute my voice
distract us from the truth
crowns change with the wind
and they play chess with our lives
they feed us dust and potions
in their new temples
arouse their magic deities
make us yell loud
and hang us upside down
POLITICS OF DECEPTION
Roaring guns and flying bombs
pronounce total death on earth
the world withers away with
the suns of science, challenging
the universe and time with
cankerous creations
viral revolution
racial elimination
structures of deception
media and power traps
in the name of faith and past
bullying the masses, seek
fresh promises, renewed
enthusiasm wrapped in
a dream scroll mythologized
to spotlight a Trump, Modi
Putin or Netanyahu
tap national consciousness
for divine descent to make
life happen once again
CHEERS!
There they tuck into turkey dinners
here we talk about free light and water
politics of thanksgiving for more
polarization, more separation
more violence, more religion, more freedom
in the new temple make more pockmarks
to start afresh fiction of wonder
crowning wolves as gods and goddesses
Lothlorien Poetry Journal Edited by Strider Marcus Jones Poet - Publishes poetry and fiction online and in print periodically. https://loth
My Poems published in Das Literarisch
1
ABRUPT NOTES
Intentionally layered
internally fragmented
queer antics:
she builds up her own
sexual toolkit to prove
how coward man is
she sees a rapist
in each man detests
the male smell but trusts
one night stand
with deep thrust
long erections
and climax control
for blood to soak smoothly
she sits shrouded
in her see-through pink gown
on the terrace
inviting autumn winds
for longer stopover
just to accuse the artist
of invading her body
she curses a young bull
for obstructing her way
in the street shouts at hawkers
and, yet another
at eighty re-imagines
fading memories
with snaky radiance
to break a new dawn
my friend says
the dynamics change:
there’s a before
and an after
to feel life
I say yes, but I’m tired
of walking and writing
what I watch
I’m no tout to comfort
or restore the faith
of a dwindling flock in heat
culling is convenient
2
SOLITUDE
Little birds
collect on the railing
seek no water or food
just talk how the day went
and fly back to their nests
here I am
slouch at the 6-inch screen
stay cut off from sunlight
dream fertile solitude
3
TANKA
Unquenched thirst
more and more indulgence:
momentary pleasure
she says it's enough now
rein the horse and seek the missed
***
Half-drunk women
on one side of the road
pimps on the other
ready to seize first-timers
to the tin box by street lamps
***
Standing on a cloud
look through an open doorway:
desires awakened
before I could step inside
the door closed, I missed my chance
***
At the swimming pool
he asks if he could borrow
her underwear just
to feel her from inside
with fidgeting currents
***
Await setting of
burning sun and arrival
of night to go out
for a beer with chips
to soothe her hurt spirit
***
God has become
a habit in helplessness:
faith a deception
when unable to enjoy
love, life and wonders of world
***
With dumbbells in hand
he logs in YouTube to build
arm muscles and says
he's off social media
to make new relationships
***
Baffling my brain
mosquitoes find my vein
in night's darkness
they land without humming
suck blood with swollen itch
--R. K. Singh
Ten Haiku
Ram Krishna Singh yellow lemons still hanging after the storm sunny backyard dusty leaves break days of silence spring’s first rain maki
Ram Krishna Singh
yellow lemons
still hanging after the storm
sunny backyard
dusty leaves
break days of silence
spring’s first rain
making lemon tea
and warm buttery toast-
birds singing outside
inviting
sandal attar from the wrist-
summer evening
evening walk
near the woodlands path:
spiny friend
inhales sun
through the foggy morning
a leaping frog
a quick brush
with snake in the fence:
plucking flowers
fingers push
roots into loamed earth
touch-me-not
warblers fly back
seeing the soft-stepping cats
in the grassy yard
seeking shelter
a leaf falls into
the puddle
***
Haiku by Ram Krishna Singh
he sweeps yellow leaves
or gathers years in a heap
burns to merge with dust
looking for Taj in grains
through sand storm find history
trapped between toes
two wolves smell
the carcass in field
heat wave chills
ripe on the branches
mangoes fall one by one
end of the season
smell of kamini
in front of my house excites:
hummingbirds mate
a load of wood
on her frail back
autumn evening
on a cycle
he sells bouquets and roses
peddling dreams
in the wild
inner echoes—
dragonfly
naked in debris
a crying baby girl
he bends to pick up
measure loneliness
sip by sip
at dining table
–R. K. Singh
Haiga
LOSS (with translations in Spanish & Hindi)
LOSS
The chimneys around my home
print black spots on the walls
darken the air I breathe and
the water I drink or bathe in
the owners know how to shut
the mouths of inspectors
and the mafia know-how
to make money this season
politics of lack of rain
repair and management
scraunch smoke from wildfires away
to the country's gas emissions
they have their priorities
mission to rewrite histories
erase the past and erect
new walls of divisions
climate change is no excuse
to mold the minds of Gen-Z
in the face of imminent doom:
stay quiet at morass of loss
--R K Singh
PÉRDIDA
Las chimeneas alrededor de mi casa
imprimen puntos negros en las paredes
oscurecen el aire que respiro y
el agua que bebo y en la que me baño
los dueños saben cómo cerrar
la boca de los inspectores
y la mafia sabe cómo
ganar dinero esta temporada
política de falta de lluvia
reparación y gestión
dispersa el humo de los incendios forestales
a las emisiones de gases del país
ellos tienen sus prioridades
misión de reescribir historias
borrar el pasado y erigir
nuevos muros de divisiones
El cambio climático no es excusa.
para moldear las mentes de la Generación Z
ante la perdición inminente:
quédate callado empantanado de en la pérdida
Translated from English by Joseph Berolo
***
Translated into Hindi by Bandana Jha:
मेरे घर के आसपास की चिमनियाँ
छोड़ जाती हैं कला धब्बा दीवारों पर
गहराती जाती है और हवा जिसमें
साँस लेता हूँ मैं ,जल भी जिसे पीता या नहाता हूँ मैं
मालिक जानता है तरीका
ईसपेक्टर को चुप रखने का
और माफिया जानते हैँ
पैसा बनाना इस मौसम में
कम बारिश की राजनीति
जोड़ना और प्रबंधन करना खूब जानती है
दूर जंगल में लगी आग से अलग
देश के गैस उत्सर्जन के धुएं को निचोड़ना
उनकी अपनी वरीयता है
इतिहास के पुनर्लेखन का लक्ष्य
अतीत को विस्मृत करना और खड़ी कर देना
विभाजन की नई दीवाल
जलवायु परिवर्तन के पास क्षमा जैसी चीज नहीं
आगत भविष्य को आकार देने के लिए सिवाय
भीषण विध्वंस के मुखरे पर
मूल्यों के अवमूल्यन को मौन हो देखने के ....
अनुवाद.....Bandana Jha