Literary Orphans

The Virgin Legs & Other Poems by Ziaul Moid Khan


The Virgin Legs


She smiles as she takes out her shirt,

And watches towards him in flirt;

Looking like a fairy,

When the fan sounds little weary;

Her hesitation is more than required

As though she’d jump into a river!

Her nipples, small and beautiful;

To show her assets she was frightful,

And laughs as she takes out her pants,

Seems: inward happy, outward laments!


Calling him shameless and vice versa

And reminding him time and again;

She expresses her dissatisfaction

Over his way of injection!

Even uninterested in showing her parts:

Her torso, lower portion, a little butterfly,

Full of dark life;

And her fingers on her eyes

While his hand engaged with hers

Red clava; if he asks her…


To stand up she declines

If he asks her to open her legs;

She nods,

And then she reclines,

Her thighs a little heavy,

But her smile strange and live;

Then he saw a scare on her left buttock

While she struggled against his attack;

Eventually he succeeded in unfurling all flags,

And entered his youth between her virgin legs…!

O Typekey Divider


I Lament on a Puppy’s Accident


I lament on a puppy’s accident:

So black and beautiful;

Full bright and dutiful,

That took birth by some road side;

None cared as it cried,

It was standing at our Garhi;

Suddenly I tried to shoo it away,

Result: it ran and reached midway

Yes, midway of the front highway;

There I found it in dire distress,

Crying and lying in stress;

First I thought it’s a kind of fit,

Suddenly realized that it was hit

By some vehicle unknown,

There was it lying and dying

And taking its last breath,

Sorrowful I went for its death;

Had I not! Oh had I not!

Had I not tried to shoo it away,

It wouldn’t have died midway.

Oh! I lament on the puppy’s demise,

So now none should call me wise…!

O Typekey Divider

I’m Not That Kind of a Girl


Don’t touch me!

Please don’t touch me!

I’m not that kind of a girl!

I’m not that kind of a girl!

Ye just sit beside!

Don’t sit aside!

And decide what ye wish to study tonight?

From your fingers, I have some fright.

Your teeth are too sharp,

My lips swell with its impact;

O love! This is in fact a fact!

As your teeth are so sharp!

Change your paste O dear mate!

Change your brush O dear mate!

I shiver from your hands!

Just on you it all depends!

So O dear, dear love!

O my dear love!

Just sit beside and talk!

Where tonight should we walk?

With you a night I wish to pass,

Give a word ye won’t touch me!

Give a word ye won’t kiss me!

As I’m not that kind of a girl!

I’m not that kind of a girl!

O shit! Just sit beside and love me!

Just sit beside and feel me…

O Typekey Divider

I Dare Say


Wordsworth is my neighbor,

I dare say.

And next comes Shakespeare,

I dare say.

To Keats, I regard my parent,

To Yeats, I’m a bit ignorant,

Shelley is an uncle,

And Byron, a good friend,

I dare say.

Homer is the forefather

And Milton, my grandfather,

To Dickens, I regard my nephew,

And now are left only a few,

I dare say.

Southey is my look alike,

So bright is he that to him I like.

Chaucer is the one I’m afraid of,

Spenser’s fairy I love the most,

I dare say.

Addison & Steele are my muses,

Sometimes they stay;

Sometimes they do not,

But they all are mine,

My own people, my relatives;

I dare say…!

O Typekey Divider


If My Pen has Some Might


The Egyptian pyramids & African woods,

Hungarian oldness and the Indian beauty

Are these all just worth to watch, dudes?

Why to seek then: net ditch nudity?


I grew with the wish to watch all these,

And nurtured my dream in every breeze;

Passport, visa and lot of money was all

That required, all else did flatly fall.


Since my teenage I’d tried to be there,

Since childhood I wished for sea girls bare.

Though hard did I try, couldn’t take off,

I still fought back and never left hope.


If my pen has might, if my fate is bright,

I’ll be there soon, things will turn up right.

O Typekey Divider



You wish to fuck me and go to office!

Will you fuck me and go to office?’

She said the Buddha words,

And gave me wounds of swords;

‘You wish to eat my waste!

Will you eat my waste?

Stray dog! Go and die—make haste!’

I controlled my tears,

As they rolled down my cheeks;

‘No more I can tolerate you’,

She added more insult to my injury.

I got my worship reward,

Yes, she gave me a loving award.

Then she disconnected,

As I struggled to face her fury…!


Misunderstood or over understood!

I tried to find out.

Her love turned abusive,

My witness turned hostile;

‘Shall you spy me?

Shall you chase me?’

I smiled and said ‘Nay!’

No rights were reserved then,

I lost all my rights over her by then;

So dear was she once!

So near was she once!

Now stranger than

An alien; more foreign than

A foreigner: alas! Left me a mourner…!


“Can I hold your hand?”

Four and half years ago I desired.

‘To leave it…!’

She hammered me deep,

I hear a cry as I peep

Inside my soul that calls her name,

‘No more waste your time on me,

Just concentrate on your rhyme,’ she said.

Two more tears rolled down my cheeks…!


O Typekey Divider

Ziaul Moid Khan grew-up in a North India countryside named, Johri. He is the youngest among his six siblings. His works have published in The Paragon Press (Fall 2019), Smoky Blue Literary & Arts Magazine (Fall/Winter, 2019), Pennsylvania Literary Journal (Spring & Summer 2019), Onion River Review (May 2019), Foliate Oak Literary Magazine (Feb 2019), The Coachella Review-Blog (Feb 2019), Kairos Literary Magazine (Dec. 2018), The Blue Lake Review (Nov. 2018), and elsewhere. He teaches English at Gudha International School, Jhunjhunu in Rajasthan. Zia edits his school magazine Sunshine. He lives under the foothills of Aravali Mountain Range in Rajasthan with his beautiful wife, Khushboo Khan and a cute two-year-old son, Brahamand. He is presently working on his first novel. You can email him:

O Typekey Divider

–Art by Dom Crossley — Artist Profile