SHINE - international poetry series

August 21~ DEEPAK DEV

8/21/2025

Today's re-run writer is Dr. Deepak Dev, who brings us three brand new poems, "Stillworn," "Mapless," and "Verb." Thank you, Deepak, for being a part of the SHINE poetry community!

Stillworn

Mapless

Verb

Dr. Deepak Dev is an IT Advisor , holding a Doctorate and Master’s degree in Information Technology alongside multiple professional certifications. His professional journey has long revolved around precision, systems, and logic. Writing, however, emerged as an unplanned sanctuary. Guided by lived experiences rather than literary tradition, his voice weaves rebellion, loss and resilience into raw, reflective verse. His debut poetry collection, Symphony of the Erased: Verses Resurged & Reclaimed, explores resilience, memory and quiet defiance. It launched globally on March 7, 2025. In parallel, Dr.Dev is also the author of The Algorithm Saga, a speculative fiction series delving into memory, identity and rewritten histories. Book I: The Algorithm of Forgotten Verses is currently in production, with the series of novels already underway.

Comments are closed.

SHINE - International Poetry Series

Click here for submissions and more

From the international poetry community, we have a "luxury of stars," as Sylvia Plath might say, and it is SHINE's honor to provide a home for their words with the online Spotlight series as well as SHINE Quarterly. Click on the logo above to learn more. And...keep writing, keep shining!
In poetry,
Samantha Terrell, EIC

SYLVIA PLATH
Stars Over the Dordogne

Stars are dropping thick as stones into the twiggy
Picket of trees whose silhouette is darker
Than the dark of the sky because it is quite starless.
The woods are a well. The stars drop silently.
They seem large, yet they drop, and no gap is visible.
Nor do they send up fires where they fall
Or any signal of distress or anxiousness.
They are eaten immediately by the pines.

Where I am at home, only the sparsest stars
Arrive at twilight, and then after some effort.
And they are wan, dulled by much travelling.
The smaller and more timid never arrive at all
But stay, sitting far out, in their own dust.
They are orphans. I cannot see them. They are lost.
But tonight they have discovered this river with no trouble,
They are scrubbed and self-assured as the great planets.

The Big Dipper is my only familiar.
I miss Orion and Cassiopeia's Chair. Maybe they are
Hanging shyly under the studded horizon
Like a child's too-simple mathematical problem.
Infinite number seems to be the issue up there.
Or else they are present, and their disguise so bright
I am overlooking them by looking too hard.
Perhaps it is the season that is not right.

And what if the sky here is no different,
And it is my eyes that have been sharpening themselves?
Such a luxury of stars would embarrass me.
The few I am used to are plain and durable;
I think they would not wish for this dressy backcloth
Or much company, or the mildness of the south.
They are too puritan and solitary for that--
When one of them falls it leaves a space,

A sense of absence in its old shining place.
And where I lie now, back to my own dark star,
I see those constellations in my head,
Unwarmed by the sweet air of this peach orchard.
There is too much ease here; these stars treat me too well.
On this hill, with its view of lit castles, each swung bell
Is accounting for its cow. I shut my eyes
And drink the small night chill like news of home.

~~~

Previous Features

September 2026
August 2026
July 2026
June 2026
May 2026
April 2026
March 2026
February 2026
January 2026
December 2025
November 2025
October 2025
September 2025
August 2025
July 2025
June 2025
May 2025
April 2025
March 2025
February 2025
January 2025
November 2024
October 2024
September 2024
August 2024
July 2024
June 2024
May 2024
April 2024
March 2024
February 2024
January 2024
December 2023
November 2023
October 2023
September 2023
August 2023
July 2023
June 2023
May 2023
April 2023
March 2023
February 2023
January 2023