Category: Poetry

Poetry

Lockdown dilemmas

By Gauri Dixit

Lockdown Dilemmas
The blades rotate at a constant speed
My eyes etch a pattern on the thick layer of dust

'The fan will not clean itself'
The mind says
'It will too
See the tiny dust particles floating in the air?'
Says the eye

The onions have been lying in the terrace for six days now
Day one and day two were supposed to dry the wet onions
It rained on day three and four
The onions are out for drying again
And they will dry on their own
There's no pain

I go through the memories scattered around
Picking each, cleaning, dusting, compartmentalizing, organizing
Halfway through
I see you
Much larger than any compartment I have at my disposal
And too small to be locked

Gauri Dixit when not busy working in her office, is busy being a traveller, climbing mountains, capturing the voice of a solitary flower blossoming from a rock or the bird sitting on a hanging branch, sometimes the setting sun or the sea in her camera as well as in the words she weaves. Her poems speak in a voice which is unique, cold and direct . She has been a Reuel Prize awardee. Her first book, ‘In My Skin, I Find Freedom’, has poems on varied subjects with a common thread of a sceptical questioning mind of a free woman.

Tags Gauri Dixt

Poetry

Poetry from Nepal: Eyes and tears

Post author By borderlesssg1
Post date April 15, 2020
No Comments on Poetry from Nepal: Eyes and tears

Poetry by Sangita Swechcha, translated by Jayant Sharma

Over the rim of the eyes
welled weary the tears,                                        
asking the eyes—
“Should I trickle or not?”
The poor couple turn oculus in utter surprise,
respond in a staggering and gruelling shape—
“How do you yearn to roll down?”
The tears sob at the oddity of the question
and reply in a state of being offended and distressed—
“If you’re embarrassed to show up in open,
I shall glide my way inside.
If you are in solitude otherwise,
I shall spill out in a surge.”
How wise the tears are—full of empathy!
To save the eyes from being abashed
they are ready to repress their outburst.
And to loosen up the eyes
they are all set to gush out
from creeks across the cheeks.
The eyes, meanwhile, are silent;
their heart already hard as stone.
And so retort—
“I get fused easily
even after countless fragmentation
only to be never fragmented again.”
Thus is the difference—
between the eyes and the tears.
The eyes are fixed
But the tears get dismembered many times only to be shattered again.
Hence—
The tears that once dropped off inadvertently in despair
have started asking for permission nowadays
before making their way out.
And the eyes that were inept in giving consent before
have started giving permission these days.
Thus is this alchemy between the eyes and the tears—
The tears ask—
“Should I trickle or not?”
And the eyes respond—
“How do you yearn to roll down?”

Dr. Sangita Swechcha has been an ardent lover of literature from an early age. She has published a novel ‘Pakhalieko Siudo’ (Washed Vermillion) and co-authored a collection of short stories ‘Asahamati ka Pailaharu’ (Hoofmark of Discord) before the collection ‘Gulafsanga ko Prem’ (The Rose: An Unusual Love Story). Her second novel is under publication and her short story collection is being translated into English. She has many short stories and poems published in various journals and online portals including Radio Nepal, Nepal Television, Global Literature in Library Initiative (GLLI) – USA based site and Your2Read, a London based venture dedicated to short story genre. Email: sangyshrestha@hotmail.com , Website: www.sangitaswechcha.com.

Jayant Sharma is the publisher and editor of an English literary magazine Sathi which promotes Nepali literature through English translations and the founder of translateNEPAL which is an initiative to represent Nepal to the global literary scene. As a writer and translator, Jayant also contributes to major national dailies and South-Asian journals regarding arts, literature, and culture.

Tags Jayant Sharma, Nepal, Sangita Swechcha, Sathi, Translate NEPAL, Translation

Poetry

The Moment and more…

By Dustin Pickering

The Moment

Before I met you, my life was full of joy.
Before I met you, my life was full of fear.

The day I met you was fearful and joyful,
a joyous unbinding from merciless wounds.

Fear thrust into my heart to unearth joy.
I rejoiced in seeing you, and love you.

You are my heart, and you are satisfied with love.
You are satiated with my companionship.

What we become together depends so much on Being:
Being is continuity of action, and love must be forever.

promising darkness

words in violation
of strict premises
glory or face
times diluted in fear

pretense tightens the mask
a failure of childhood
buried beside insolence
your mind lays unaddressed

who opened the door to chaos
feelings flayed in the open
dreams and reflections
against promising darkness

Empty Longing

I don't exist: that helpless look of duty
is empty longings, friend.

If your angel only cast one lumbering breath
to hunt holiness, he will blind the livid temper
to its egging impulses.

Heed this prayer, o wicked deliverance,
if kisses are tied to innocence.

Dustin Pickering is the founder of Transcendent Zero Press and editor-in-chief of Harbinger Asylum. He has authored several poetry collections, a short story collection, and a novella. He is a Pushcart nominee and was a finalist in Adelaide Literary Journal’s short story contest in 2018. He is a former contributor to Huffington Post.

Tags Dustin Pickering, Harbinger Asylum, Huffington Post, Transcendant Zero Press

Poetry

Happening and more…

By Vasile Baghiu

Happening

Yesterday, I met poetry
on the stony Loch Long shore,
near Ardpeaton.
The place was empty, and I think
she felt very well as she was: ignored,
neglected, abandoned among the wood pieces
and dry sea wracks.
Though I had suspected for some time
she was not just the kind of a thing written
on a paper sheet,
it was at that moment
I viewed the truth.

The waves looked like real sea;
the breeze, kingfishers,
the insistent wind bringing clouds,
by heaps,
carrying them further away, like in
a movie shown with high speed,
yet other details, not very easy
to be described -
all made me recognize her
from the distance.

I had my camera close at hand, so I took
many photos
thinking to impress my friends later,
as I knew they would not believe my story.

In the evening, when
the images were downloaded,
nothing could be seen
on the monitor.
I resigned then to sadness and insight,
and I confine myself to write here.

Still I am sure I really met
poetry yesterday.

Under Wave

It is as if I were ill sometimes,
feverish, lonely,
abroad.

I do not share myself between
me and my own person.

The world swishes inside;
and the heart,
agreeing secretly with the brain,
makes waves to show I am still alive.

Despite the smile,
I am not on the wave --
quite under it.

Maybe I am in vacation
and try to take advantage of
the good weather.

Striving to be at least
a part of what I will never be,
I dare not venture too deep
but splash a bit with the oars here,
where I suppose the shore is nearby
helping me feel safe.

I Do Not Write
Today I do not write.
I wish I could live a bit more than I do
in normal circumstances.
I put aside all the pencils and papers,
close the computer
and come into the midday sun.
I do not write,
so I go for a walk,
and think of the things
concerning me closely
these days:
the life at home,
and the new British poetry
at “Bloodaxe”
I spent all the last evening.

This morning I sent e-mails
to two persons who
do not get along very well,
hoping they would make up
when seeing
they have a mutual friend in me.

Wordsworth was right: long and solitary
walks are good for inspiration,
but today I do not write.
I feel good, but I would not pretend this
comfortable feeling will infiltrate
my writing too,
in case tomorrow I begin
the story again.

I get a bit more distant from myself
so that I can see me better.
A fit of laughter seizes me.

Today I do not write.

(First appeared in the volume Cât de departe a mers/ How Far Have I Gone, 2008)

Vasile Baghiu (b. 1965) is a Romanian writer, author of eight books of poetry, a collection of short stories and three novels published in his country. He has been awarded a few writers-in-residence grants, in Germany, Austria, Scotland and Switzerland. Some of his works have appeared in translation in magazines and anthologies such as Penmen Review, Magma Poetry, Southern Ocean Review, The Orange Room Review, Stellar Showcase Journal, L.A. Melange, Poetry Can, Banipal, Cordite Poetry Review, The Aalitra Review, Bordertown. Co-author of the poetry collection Transatlantic Crossings: The Constant Language of Poetry, (TJMF Publishing, USA, 2006). Vasile had in the past diverse work experiences as a nurse, including a sanatorium. A psychologist and a teacher now, married, he has a daughter and a son. He currently is working simultaneously on a new novel, a new collection of poems and a non-fiction book.

Tags Austria, Germany, Romania, Switzerland, Vasile Baghiu, Writers-in-residence

Poetry

Fear in Times of Corona

By Amit Shankar Saha

Fear in Times of Corona

Wish Fulfilment

Today when you read your poems and I am far away

the rains will bend their direction to mourn the distance,

the lights will sit heavy on the evening of remembrance,

a lake in Kashmir will abruptly freeze in sorrow,

a mirage in Kutch will waylay a traveler for water,

memory will weave a flower patterned chintz curtain,

the dreams of the curtain will cover the world like a storm,

a poet will squeeze the universe in his palms and say,

“Today when you read your poems and I am far away

I wish the words that escape your lips come all my way.”

Quarantined Night

Fear of your inexistence
surrounds me at night
like muggers in a dark lane.

Fear that hoods my head,
covers my eyes, pummels
my chest, kicks my gut.

Fear that leaves me bruised
with no one to accuse
in a dark lane of the night.

This night I quarantine the night
in the madhouse of viral nightmares
between pillows of sleep and death.

This night isolated from all
other nights of quarantined darkness
reminds of one who died distanced.

This night the dead poet awakes
from Rome's Protestant Cemetery,
breaks the distended curfew of death.

This night I too break the curfew
and in my viral thoughts visit you
to write my name in water.

This night that brings a latent promise
and footsteps of familiar delight
is the madhouse of saddest sighs.

Amit Shankar Saha is an award-winning poet and short story writer. He has won the Poiesis Award,, Wordweavers Prize, Nissim International Runner-up Prize. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Griffin Poetry Prize. He is the co-founder of Rhythm Divine Poets and Assistant Secretary of Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library. His poems are in Best Indian Poetry Anthology 2018 and he has read at Sahitya Akademi. His collections of poems are titled “Balconies of Time” and “Fugitive Words”. He has a PhD in English from Calcutta University and teaches in the English Department of Seacom Skills University.

Tags Amit Shankar Saha, Calcutta University, Corona, Quarantine, Sahitya Akademi

Poetry

Still Breathing

By Barnali Ray Shukla

Still Breathing

Her home wears nothing but a silence
that waits--where noir feels warm like
a quilt of breaths, as it begins to reel in

a tequila sunset, unsure of the strange
fingerprints in her voice, ‘admit two’
she hears, last breaths of life, air or lyrics.

The newborn gurgles in the next room, and
her mother in another, they are there for her,
a little distant, and she… grateful for a death

so beautiful that comes on time, as promised.
Untouched by loved ones behind masks, not
the one they were born with, the one they need

to keep her

away.

Barnali Ray Shukla is a writer, filmmaker & poet. Her writing has featured in Sunflower Collective, OutOfPrint, Kitaab.org, OUTCAST, Indian Ruminations, Vayavya, Anthology of Contemporary Indian Poetry II, indianculturalforum.in, Madras Courier, Bengaluru Review, Voice& Verse (HK) UCityReview (USA) and A Portrait in Blues (UK). She has a feature film to her credit as writer director, 2 documentaries, 2 short films & a book of poems, Apostrophe. Her short fiction & non fiction feature in print anthologies by Amaryllis, Speaking Tiger Books. She is shooting her third documentary & scripting a movie.She lives in Mumbai with her plants, books & a husband.

Tags Apostrophe, Barnali Ray Shukla, Filmmaker, Speaking Tiger

Poetry

And then it begins….!

By Ali Jan Maqsood

Gestured the mountains of the outlooks

Offered dryly, albeit, wet in nature

The glittering beauty of the flowers

Out in the sun of shadow

Of my territory, nevertheless, the land of my home

I reckon!

I imagine I am a butterfly

Caged by the river, flows up each second and then comes down

In merriness!

For, it owns the feeling

The feeling of sense of belonging

In particular!

The joyful days continued and would have continued

Unless, interrupted by the stormy alarums and excursions

And then chained, indeed, feet by hands

The vociferations would have gone on and on…!

If the stones had not remonstrated

Although they fall, but have learnt to stand back strongly

Accompanied by the rains of the Above Power!

The salvation we made in grievance

The souvenir in future

Entitled with the tears of glory

Of thine…!

Ever since everything sounds so irritating

Wandering on the land of survival

In the streets that are seized entirely

The fighting butterflies, fearlessly, against the burning sun

Shadowed all around, yet in fear

Fear of setting back!

For, the sun has to rise someday

And then begins the journey of thorns and flowers

Of the territorial conflicts of butterflies

Near the mountains, under the sun of shadow

In the land of my home!

And then culminates the mournings

Upon the arrival of the victory

Awaite desperately

Who knows who dies

“In the battle of life of love and war”

When the journey begins all anew…!

Ali Jan Maqsood is a student of Law at University Law College Quetta and a former guider at Dynamic English Language Teaching Academy (DELTA) in Turbat. He can be reached at alijanmaqsood17@gmail.com and tweets at @Alijanmaqsood12

Tags Ali Jan Masood, And then it begins, Quetta, University Law College Quetta

Poetry

Living in the times of Lockdown

Post author By borderlesssg1
Post date April 7, 2020
1 Comment on Living in the times of Lockdown

By Moinak Dutta

Living in The Times of Lockdown

Living in the times of Lockdown

Is curiously surreal,

For spaces we, the humans leave, are claimed by others,

Like pigeons come in flocks to dance on the chowrasta,

Where before lockdown, cars stood bumper to bumper,

Blaring horns, letting out sooty smoke;

A friend from Gurugram sent me a picture of serious traffic signal violation on a thoroughfare —

A grand peacock slowly, almost leisurely walking across the road, oblivious of the traffic lights turning green;

Dolphins, showed on TV, danced their ways near the Marine Drive at Mumbai,

They looked surprisingly happy —

No fishing boats to chase them;

The sky of my city never looked so clear and blue

Like it does now,

The trees looked greener too,

And the roads, so clutter free.

What Covid19 taught us

Covid 19 outbreak has brought into fore

How in the time of distress and panic

Religion closes its doors; and even family members become distant;

How even the dead bodies are left behind;

How Fear controls every bit of us;

And how the old ways of enjoying life in rest and repose

Had been the most perfect ways to lead our lives;

And above all, how it is that home is all that matters at the end of the day.

Quarantined

This life is good.

You and I —

Looking at each other

And heaving a sigh.

Moiank Dutta is a teacher by profession and published fiction writer and poet with two literary & romance fictions to his credit. His third fiction is going to be published soon. Many of his poems and short stories have been published in dailies, magazines, journals, ezines.

Tags Covid 19, Lockdown, Moiank Dutta, Quarantine

Poetry

Pidgin, Pockets & more…

By Basudhara Roy

Pidgin

Pockets

Granted

Uncritiqued

Basudhara Roy is the author of two books, a monograph, Migrations of Hope: A Study of the Short Fiction of Three Indian American Writers (New Delhi: Atlantic Publishers, 2019) and a collection of poems, Moon in my Teacup (Kolkata: Writer’s Workshop, 2019). She has been an alumnus of Banaras Hindu University where she was awarded the gold medal for academic excellence at both the undergraduate and postgraduate levels. She secured the UGC Junior Research Fellowship and has earned her doctoral degree in diaspora women’s writing from Kolhan University, Chaibasa. Basudhara’s areas of academic interest are diaspora writing, cultural studies, gender studies and postmodern criticism. Her research articles and book reviews have widely appeared in reputed academic journals across the country and as chapters in books. As a creative writer, she has featured in an anthology, Dancing the Light: Poems from Australia and India, and in magazines like Muse India, Shabdadguchha, Cerebration, Rupkatha, The Challenge, I-mantra, The Volcano, Gnosis, Daath Voyage, Das Literarisch, Reviews, Triveni, Setu, Hans India and on the Zee Literature Festival Blog. She is Assistant Professor of English at Karim City College, Jamshedpur, Jharkhand and can be reached at basudhara.roy@gmail.com.

Tags Basudhara Roy, Kolkata, Muse India, Setu, Triveni

Poetry

Thread of Life

By Eduard Schmidt-Zorner

I tie the Ariadne’s thread
into my wide-meshed cardial net,
where points of view dissolve
and deep thoughts evolve.

Lead him past the rubble heaps
where longing grows
and stockpiled
are forgotten things.

Bind him where the swallows fly
and fix him near heaven’s dome
where clouds rush by
and seagulls are at home.

Eduard Schmidt-Zorner is a translator and writer of poetry, haibun, haiku and short stories.He writes in four languages: English, French, Spanish and German and holds workshops on Japanese and Chinese style poetry and prose.

Member of four writer groups in Ireland and lives in County Kerry, Ireland, for more than 25 years and is a proud Irish citizen, born in Germany.

Published in 76 anthologies, literary journals and broadsheets in USA, UK, Ireland, Japan, Sweden, Italy, Bangladesh, India, France, Mauritius and Canada. Writes also under his pen name: Eadbhard McGowan

Tags Eduard Scmidt-Zorner, haibun, haiku, Ireland, Thread of Life