graveside walk
the dog and I
pull each other
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
war . . .
a barbed fence divides
the fog
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
surrogate mother
one more mosquito
keeps buzzing
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
war news
a cat on the wall
lifts its paw
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
rooftop garden
we learn to grow
together
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
harvest season
the tambura singer carries
a bag of rice
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
the hug
a little distance
keeps us together
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
death haiku—
after the fragment
a long pause
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
earthquake
the landlord's white shirt
full of soil
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
border value crossed
they call me
sweety
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
rescue boat
a boy's request
for one more trip
—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
cherry
blossoms
a sick man turns back
for one more look
Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
graveyard
—
a part of the circle
not colored
Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
granite
boulder
removing all outside
the Buddha
Srinivasa
Rao Sambangi
mountain
trekking
the stretch of the shadow
into twilight
Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
inchworm
the
drift and drag
of the universe
Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
Independence
Day
an old woman
on our morning walk
parts the way
to
her master's home
Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
(Last update, Apr 17, 2025) Email for submissions: journalcoldmoon(at)gmail(dot)com Editors: Timothy Daly, Oana Cercel. ~~~~ You may submi...