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The Wait As I write Someone, somewhere Waits- I imagine "What it is";, to say Hungry and stay, that way And if- She could be, my friend At lunch A table well laid- When asked "Are you a vegetarian", I remark Hunger has no caste- It eats, itself, and lasts Longer than You and I, ever thought. Click on the file below to listen to Abha read her poem: 
 Abha Das Sarma lives in Bangalore, India.
An engineer and management consultant by profession, writing is what makes her happy and fulfilled.
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Cold Chicken Its raining, and windy no shelter from the cold I’m ailing, though young still, I am really feeling old Christmas is coming, I still can’t find a home No money, no shelter Wandering the streets alone My shoe won’t stop leaking my toes are turning green My stomach is so empty I wish that I was clean Searching through the rubbish For something nice to eat A leftover chicken leg A succulent, seasonal treat Nourishing, but still hungry What else is there to do? I approach a stranger and say “A merry Xmas to you.” Here is the video of Fin reading the poem: https://youtu.be/V3IKFdKJm8E  Fin Hall is from New Pitsligo, in the North East of Scotland. He has been writing since the early 70’s. He hosts a Zoom Event called Like A Blot From The Blue. Fin's work mainly focuses on social issues as well as reflective personal stories.
No time for poetry The big lineup in front of the food tanker a mother holds a paper plate in her right hand drags a child with the left the loudest crowd ever to get meals to their children there I saw myself fragmented into thousands of humans and my soul in silence looking for an answer Photo credit goes to Dr. Archana Pokharel Click on the file below to listen to Sharmila read her poem:
 Sharmila Pokharel is a bilingual poet from the Himalayan country Nepal. She has published two collections of poetry in her native language. She immigrated to Canada in 2010.
Her third book was a bilingual poetry collection My Country in a Foreign Land, co-translated by Alice Major. She is a co-author of Somnio: The Way We See It, a poetry and art book published in 2015. Great Changes “Deaths and marriages make great changes.” That’s what they used to say, In a general way, Not specific to the Famine. There were too many deaths then. They were too close. Dying was a failure. That wasn’t spoken of. It was lived out of. It cut a deeper line Of before and after Than Independence, the change From rulers to leaders. It removed or erased so many It changed Ireland. It changed land ownership From up and down to the middle. The strong farmers rose. Their cattle conquered crops. Marriages were made to unite fields. In a domestic commerce Resources were invested for The future in a son and A son a priest for good measure Was a measure of success. Women served purposes. Their speaking was sanctioned In self-betraying confessions To oppressive clergy. Their lives went to the farms Their love to the productive sons. Their marriages were fodder For literature. The absolution of lost knowledge Comes slowly on the land. Roots grow from our feet. My grand father struck a man Who, in drink, accused my forebears Of the theft of fields from his forebears, After the Hunger. In the Cromwellian phrase of West Limerick- My grandfather “falled” him. Who will know now in that place The story or the truth? These many years later We appear to be recovering From that disease of the blood- The fear of want. The roots growing from our feet Are shorter. We can love and leave the land. There are changes. Click on the file below to listen to Rena read her poem:
 Rena Fleming grew up on a farm in Co.Limerick and now enjoys the landscape and the shores of Galway Bay.
Dinner for One I remember the angst of scavenging for nourishment; the excitement when sustenance was found in a tin of spam selected from the self-service menu in a kitchen cupboard slammed with a bang, breaking up an otherwise stony silence while preparing dinner for one No distraction from acrid smell of poverty, an airborne virus infecting my nostrils attempting to satisfy growling malnutrition need because very child needs a daily feed, no point in letting the situation bread contempt as who gives a shit about trying to represent the groundhog day of the twisted event that although lonely was still a highlight when imminent; my desolate dinner for one. My parched lips washed it down with unfiltered tap water consumed while perched on a rickety chair, wobbling as if laughing at my misfortune sitting there. A chipped orphan plate scorning hungry eyes always lowered, scarred from my mother’s glares filled with despise, familiarity in that crockery that saw behind the scenes mockery towards child welfare that forgot to be there to witness my dinner for one. The pièce de résistance dished up on scratched pine surface barren of pretty tablecloth, not ever needed since I’d never dare spill a drop. Even if I did I’d use my tongue as a mop to make the most of my dinner for one. Indigestion took hostage of my stomach when I too quickly crammed tasteless morsels into my young mouth that hung open, forgetting to close with the chew, table manners were never something taught by you, fingers my utensils, there was no silver spoon to shovel in my meal because mother would be home soon. Needed time to wash up, no excuse for her to raise hand to beat me black and blue for being so bad. It was cold in the bosom of the kitchen without the oven on. Why waste energy serving up dinner for one? Here is the link to the video of Kelly reading her poem: https://youtu.be/nC_Q0qqZCEQ  Kelly Van Nelson from Sydney, Australia is the #1 bestselling author of Graffiti Lane and Punch and Judy. Her poetry has featured in numerous international publications and she regularly discusses social issues in the media. Her books are frequently gifted to celebrities, including Hollywood Oscar winners. She is the recipient of a KSP First Edition Fellowship, winner of the AusMumpreneur ‘Big Idea Changing the World’ Award for her literary impact as an antibullying advocate, and Roar Success winner for Best Book and Most Powerful Influencer. In the spare time she doesn’t have, she hangs out on the open mic performing poetry. She is based in Sydney, Australia and is represented by The Newman Agency - www.kellyvannelson.com.
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