Title : When flowers bloomed for me (Picture courtesy Ms. Latha Prem Sakya)

Prof. Latha Prem Sakya a poet, painter and a retired Professor of English, has published three books of poetry. MEMORY RAIN (2008), NATURE AT MY DOOR STEP (2011) - an experimental blend, of poems, reflections and paintings ,VERNAL STROKE (2015 ) a collection of all her poems. Her poems were published in journals like IJPCL, Quest, and in e magazines like Indian Rumination, Spark, Muse India, Enchanting Verses international, Spill words etc. She has been anthologized in Roots and Wings (2011), Ripples of Peace ( 2018), Complexion Based Discrimination ( 2018), Tranquil Muse (2018) and The Current (2019). She is member of various poetic groups like Poetry Chain, India poetry Circle and Aksharasthree - The Literary woman, World Peace and Harmony)

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the 128th edition of LiteraryVibes. It comes as a wonderful bouquet of more than fifty five beautiful poems, fourteen enchanting short stories and a few interesting anecdotes. Kids' Magic adds a soft touch of innocent charm to our offering.

We are lucky to have seven new contributors this time, the youngest of them being Sushant, an enthusaistic sixth grader from Chennai who has taken his first tentative steps into the world of poetry with some beautiful lines. Let us seek God's blessings on him for a bright future. Ms. Nisha Luthra, Dr. R. S. Tewari "Shikhresh", Ms. Bijayalaxmi Rath, Ms. Debarati Sen, Ms. Madhusmita Dash, and Ms. Anasuya Panda are all established poets, writers, bloggers whose inclusion in any group will bring smiles and pride to the members. We are very happy to welcome all of them and hope that they will continue to enchant us with their literary creation in all our future editions.

The debate on whether April is the cruelest month of the year or the honour goes to May, continues to rage in the imagination of poets and thinkers. For us, the sweating hoi polloi tormented by scorching heat and damning humidity, a welcome respite comes from IPL, the cricketing circus which spans over these two hot months. A retired, jobless person that I am, my evenings are usually spent before the TV, enjoying the ups and downs of the teams with a racy flow of adrenaline. About two weeks back, on 9th April, I was witness to a miracle of sorts, when Rinku Singh, an unknown rookie cricketer from Kolkata Knight Riders blasted five consecutive sixes in the last over to take his belaugured team to an absolutely incredible victory. In cricketing world that is pure bliss, a gem of an innings, very rarely seen and savoured. It literally took sleep away from me for a couple of hours, my mind reliving those five astonishing shots again and again.

Next morning news poured in about Rinku Singh's poverty-stricken background, his struggles and his dream to be a successful cricketer. His father earned a pittance carrying cooking gas cylinders in his rickshaw for a small commission in Aligarh, Rinku and his brother often lending a helping hand. His father was worried that the son showed no interest in studies, but was passionate about playing cricket. Rinku had no money, but he had his dream to live on, the dream that took him on the way to becoming a cricketing success. Despite the economic hardship, he was determined to pursue his dream and finally realised it, playing for Uttar Pradesh in 2014 at the age of 16. He will probably don the India cap soon, because he is playing consistently well in all the matches in the current IPL edition. His confidence and the beautiful way he plays his shots show a lot of promise. The cricket lovers all over the country are cheering for him, moved by the story of his struggle and the power of his dream.

A dream is what it takes to move forward in life - Abdul Kalam, our iconic former President put it so well when he said, "Look at the sky. We are not alone. The whole universe is friendly to us and conspires only to give the best to those who dream and work.......You have to dream before your dreams can come true." We all nurture our dreams and some of us achieve it for ourselves with hard work, dedication and single-minded pursuit. Some evolved souls among us dream for the country, Mahatma's dream for our freedom, Rabindra Nath Tagore's dream of a country "where the mind is without fear and the head is held high" are dazzling milestones in our nation's destiny. And who can forget Martin Luther King Jr's immortal words, "I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

Some are selfless dreamers, aiming to serve humanity - a Mother Teresa, a Florence Nihtingale, a Kalpana Chawla, or a Neerja Bhanot never asked themselves what they were going to get in return for their acts of supreme kindness and bravery, they just dreamt to make a difference. Yet, a Sachin Tendulkar, a Neeraj Chopra or an Abhinav Bindra dreamt big and achieved unprecedented success for themselves and the country they loved.

And what better way to live a life than dreaming the Impossible Dream, as the American Lyricist Joe Darion (1917-2001) would lead us to believe?

The Impossible Dream

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear the unbeatable sorrow
To run where the brace dare not go

To right the upright able wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star.

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far.

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march
Into hell for a heavenly cause.

And I know I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to rest.

And the world will be better for this
that one man scorned and covered with scars
still strove with his last ounce of courage
To fight the unbeatable foe
To reach the unreachable star.

And for every piece of possible and impossible dream, there is a dream keeper who follows our wish and nurtures it with love and compassion. As Langston Hughes (1901-1967), the celebrated American poet, novelist, playwright and leader of the Harlem Renaissance, put it so succinctly in his poem The Dream Keeper,

Bring me all your dreams,
You dreamers,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies

That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

Dear readers, here is to wish you the fulfilment of all your dreams, may you reach the unreachable star and may the Dream Keeper

gather your dream in His soft palms and shower it with love and kindness. Friends, won't you ask me what is my dream? My dream is, one day at least ten thousand readers will read the LiteraryVibes and bless it with their good wishes. Will it happen? Let's wait and see. One lives on dreams!

Hope you will like the offerings in this 128th edition of LiteraryVibes. Please forward the following links to all your friends and contacts:

https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/482 (Kid's Magic)

https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/483 (Short Stories, Anecdotes) and

https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/484 (Poems)

For those who are interested in medical anecdotes there is an interesting article by Prof. Dr. Gangadhar Sahu, the eminent Gyanecologist, at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/481

Do enjoy the summer with plenty of Lassi, AamPanaa, Water Melon Juice and a reading of LiteraryVibes to give you esoteric joy. Take care, keep smiling, we will meet again on 26th May with the 129th edition of LiteraryVibes.

With cool regards

Mrutyunjay Sarangi

Friday, April 28, 2023

Table of Contents :: POEMS

01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
NAKED BEFORE GOD
02) Haraprasad Das
SELF-IMMOLATION (ATMADAANA)
03) Dilip Mohapatra
NOW
04) Bibhu Padhi
GAZA STRIP: THE WINDOW
05) Abani Udgata
NEWSCASTER
06) Ajit Dash
SUN
MOTHER BHAGABATI
07) Dr R S Tewari "Shikhresh"
PROVE CRITICS A BIG LIE...
08) Bijayalaxmi Rath
ADIEU
LET'S BE SKY AND EARTH.
09) Nisha Luthra
SILENCE
10) Debarati Sen
AWAITING SPRING
11) Madhumita Dash
Infinity and Beyond
12) Meena Mishra
THE SUN KISSED FACE
13) Seetha Sethuraman
MOTHER
TRUE JOY
HOPE FLOATS
IN MEMORIAM
14) Sudipta Mishra
LOST SCENTS OF SPRING!
AN UNFINISHED RACE
15) Pradeep Biswal
TREMORS IN TURKEY
16) Manjula Asthana Mahanti
SITA
17) Aneek Chatterjee
PICTURES
18) Pankhuri Sinha
FISH NETS ON PALOLEM BEACH
19) Bidyutprabha Gantayay
LOST
20) Diptirekha Das
HEALING IS NOT LINEAR!
THE FORGOTTEN SPRING
21) Jairam Seshadri
EVERYWOMAN
22) Aparna P
EVERY TIME
23) Sundar Rajan S
NATURE
HAPPINESS
24) Tandra Mishra
BATTLEFIELD
25) Prof. Dr. Sidhartha Das
I REGRET NOT AFTERNOON THOUGHTS
26) Amb. Arun Sahu
THE ORCHARD
27) Snehaprava Das
KOYAL OF TIME
28) Setaluri Padmavathi
THE DOOR OF OPPORTUNITY
ONCE IN A LIFETIME
29) Ravi Ranganathan
DUSK
30) Sujata Dash
THE SPARROW AND THE SPRING
31) Arpita Priyadarsini
THE CITYLIGHTS
32) Col (Dr) Rekha Mohanty
A PROMISE NEVER KEPT
33) Bhagaban Jayasingh
THE SEA FROM A FISHERMAN'S VILLAGE - 1
THE SEA FROM A FISHERMAN'S VILLAGE - 2
34) Bipin Patsani
A NARCISSIST KING
THE WONDERS OF MOVEMENT
JUDGMENT
35) Soumen Roy
DECIDUOUS
36) Krishna Tulasi
POSSESS IT
37) Dr. Sumitra Mishra
THE BUDDING BUDS
LONGING FOR RAIN
38) Dr. Ratan Ghosh
SHE WOKE UP
39) Gopal Lahiri
SHORELESS VOICE
SMALL WONDER
40) Lopamudra Mishra
ALL THOSE YEARS
I AM WAITING FOR YOU
41) Anjali Sahoo
MORNING
42) Kabyatara Kar
HELPING HAND
43) Sukanya V Kunju
MEMORIES OF SUMMER DAYS
44) Saranya Francis
HOW ARE THEY, THE REMNANTS OF OUR DAY OF PARTING?
45) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
THE WANDERING SOUL

Table of Contents :: BOOK REVIEW

01) Pradeep Kumar Biswal
TOSHALI 2023: ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY By Gopa Nayak

Table of Contents :: SHORT STORIES & ANECDOTES

01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
OUTING AMONG THE BUSHES
02) Dilip Mohapatra
THE FIGHTER COCK
03) Sreekumar Ezhuththaani
THE ELIXIR
04) Ajay Upadhyaya
AI: ABSOLUTE INTELLIGENCE
05) Chinmayee Barik
RADIO
06) Ishwar Pati
A PRECIOUS DAY
07) Anasuya Panda
ONLY YOU CAN PAINT THE WALL...
08) Dr. Sukanti Mohapatra
THE END
09) Prof. Avay Mohapatra
A JOURNEY TO JANNAT
10) Hema Ravi
FREEDOM IS LIMITED
11) Ruchi Pritam
THE LITTLE BROWN GIRL
12) Lathaprem Sakhya
WATER BABY
13) Nitish Nivedan Barik
A LEAF FROM HISTORY : ABOUT THE VAIKOM MOVEMENT
14) Sumitra Kumar
LET’S CHANGE THE INDIAN GARBAGE STORY
15) Sujata Dash
LOVE IN ITS PUREST FORM
16) Sheena Rath
SITA
17) Ashok Kumar Ray
KALI
18) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
A NIGHT OF TWO LETTERS

Table of Contents :: YOUNG MAGIC

01) M. Sushant
WONDERFUL BEACH
02) Anura Parida
THE SINGLE CONTRIBUTOR
03) Trishna Sahoo
MY NEW HOBBY :SWIMMING

NAKED BEFORE GOD

Prabhanjan K. Mishra

For my secret rites

you are the lone witness,

the judge and the jury.

Nakedness chases me

into dreams,

nightmarish even during siesta,

luminous days.

Claustrophobia living in a hole

pulls me in.

I squeeze out of the other end

onto a narrow ledge

at an acrophobic height.

I slip into the abyss,

keep falling, heart stuck

to the gullet, the air rushing

out of the windpipe.

I sink into the depths.

A burial, alive,

in a pit in my gut.

Do I, hiding from me and you,

dip my pen into forbidden ink?

Who is the arbiter

of the dichotomies?

You stand smiling, sardonic,

when I enter your naked presence,

wrapped with my uncertainty.

Prabhanjan K. Mishra is an award-winning Indian poet from India, besides being a story writer, translator, editor, and critic; a former president of Poetry Circle, Bombay (Mumbai), an association of Indo-English poets. He edited POIESIS, the literary magazine of this poets’ association for eight years. His poems have been widely published, his own works and translation from the works of other poets. He has published three books of his poems and his poems have appeared in twenty anthologies in India and abroad.

SELF-IMMOLATION (ATMADAANA)

Haraprasad Das

It hardly matters

who remains loyal

to whom, and how long;

who bothers to say ‘bye’,

to whom before leaving; but

the bald Jaamun branch

bangs its head as reminder

against the half-ajar door

at every departure.

It is not clear

who has gone halfhearted

to the ruined sylvan land,

and who before returning

has serenaded the silent ruins

with a few quatrains

from the melody of a grand

musical symphony,

might it be tonelessly.

No one is really worried about

who died hanging,

after making a joyous home

with love and sacrifices,

but choosing the noose to be

the best choice for an honorable exit.

The past is to be erased

and one is to march ahead

to the goal, still far ahead -

the innocence

of sinless lichen to be extracted

from the fish stomach;

the unsavoury virtues

to be delivered

even by tortoise-transport;

the values of life to be salvaged

by the skin of teeth

before they sink to abyss;

sense to be put into bland prayers,

fallow land to be tilled

to sow seeds of hope;

if needed, engaging

in gory violence to get even

with an unforgiving past.

One is to keep in mind

that the need is desperate

to press ahead,

changing strategy,

wearing various guises,

beating obstacles,

negotiating pits and bumps,

falling and rising again and again.

Believe me, one is to forget

small and big lapses,

panting ahead in mad haste,

burying underfoot

the memories,

even if a sweet past

is erased unwittingly.

Great distances

are yet to be negotiated,

the goal remaining out of bounds;

the whirlwind uncomfortably closer,

already churning at the street corner

may reach the doorsteps any time;

one has to face it

even if the limbs are weak

and incomplete;

even if the mud walls are raw,

too soft to fend

against the onslaught;

even if as weak as an improvised

mud throne for the king

instead of one of solid gold.

The ultimate oblation

might have been poured

into the sacrificial fire,

but the resplendent flames

are yet to rise

from its smouldering bed.

Mr. Hara Prasad Das is one of the greatest poets in Odiya literature. He is also an essayist and columnist. Mr. Das, has twelve works of poetry, four of prose, three translations and one piece of fiction to his credit. He is a retired civil servant and has served various UN bodies as an expert.

He is a recipient of numerous awards and recognitions including Kalinga Literary Award (2017), Moortidevi Award(2013), Gangadhar Meher Award (2008), Kendra Sahitya Akademi Award (1999) and Sarala Award (2008)”

NOW

Dilip Mohapatra

The great river has dried up

and changed its course

its memory has deserted it too

it can't remember

even one couplet of

the much heard songs of the paddles

and the liquid whispers

of the boats slicing

through its bosom when full

nor can it recall

the ululating local women

congregating on its bathing ghat

pushing on its once flowing waters

hundreds of boats

carved out of banana trunks

decorated with flowers

and carrying lighted diyas

while reminiscing

the glorious voyages to Bali.

The river has dried up

its banks are bare

shorn of all vegetation

barring a few bald trees

with no leaves and no blossoms

but for a few clusters of

dried up twigs that once were

the comforting nests

now desolate and discarded

and perched on their branches

are few nomadic vultures

waiting for

the foetuses that would be

clandestinely flung in the

darkness of the nights.

The river has dried up

and its solitary bed

is now the final destination

where the journeys end

and the pall bearers congregate

once a while

to light the funeral pyres

of the dears departed

leaving behind heaps

of ashes and few pieces of

broken earthen pots

and few half charred bones.

The reticent river

doesn't protest nor does it complain

and now in its mundane existence

it's no longer scared of its

loneliness

for it has discovered that

it's not really alone

but is perhaps

the confluence and

the meeting point of all

the liberated and emancipated

loneliness around

and within.

Dilip Mohapatra, a decorated Navy Veteran from Pune, India is a well acclaimed poet and author in contemporary English. His poems regularly appear in many literary journals and anthologies worldwide. He has six poetry collections, two non-fictions and a short story collection to his credit. He is a regular contributor to Literary Vibes. He has been awarded the prestigious Naji Naaman Literary Awards for 2020 for complete work. The society has also granted him the honorary title of 'Member of Maison Naaman pour la Culture'. His website may be accessed at dilipmohapatra.com.

GAZA STRIP: THE WINDOW

Bibhu Padhi

What do your eyes find outside

those window bars, across

the afternoon road, daughter?

They look so visible, so very sad through

looking at a suddenly blinding sun

for so long, it is intolerable to me.

On the road, death’s horizontal pressure

shows. What if you haven’t turned your face

away from Palestine? There is someone yet

at a farther window, looking on

just as you do, at her very own

spilled, red blood on the earth’s

darkly volcanic, mid-eastern floor.

You are quietly learning

the mechanism of the intolerable;

your face has creased into time’s

rough, night-like folds, holding

the mystery of your being where you are.

You shall teach me the next lesson

in my textbook of life, and what

bits and pieces of mad bodies

it includes so imaginatively.

A few trees are going through

another, farther madness, with

a never-seen-before green where I live,

inside my middle-age fear.

Perhaps the one with the top hat

beside you, has seen it all earlier—

his got-used-to-look looks less troubled.

Daughter: Learn to be kind when

you grow up—to me, the numerous

many I love, and to yourself.

Never get used to the intolerable,

never hurt yourself, your angel-body.

And then, you will teach me how to pray,

cherish life, how to blame the too visible day.

Bibhu Padhi has published fourteen books of poetry. His most recent magazine acceptances include The London Magazine, The New Humanist, and Queen's Quarterly. He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar.

NEWSCASTER

Abani Udgata

God, let him take a breath!!

He is now the conjurer.

Since he became himself the news.

And he wraps reams, bytes and visions

round morning tea-cups

from the dark interiors dim-lit

by camera-eyes.

Spirals of smoke billow out of

old chimneys, kids fly their

colourful kites across.

Let’s go, me and you, almighty

in to the post-truth summer.

The book that you wrote for

me and the others tucked under

our arms and look at the world

now changing in to what it should be,

not what it is.

Remember that young man

standing below a cold night sky

on a rail platform near Durban

thrown out with his coloured bags?

Well, he did not do much thereafter.

Just took the next train back home,

and lived on, chewing on his bile.

And that lady with a candle in

the battlefields of Crimea?

She was just an apparition

seen by the delirious dying.

But that little bird inside us

hunkering down the interstices

needs a clear patch of the sky

to sing, to breathe, to live and love.

Abani Udgata lives in Bhubaneswar. Writes poems both in English and Odia. Udgata has been awarded in all-India poetry competitions and published in anthologies. He has been a regular contributor to LV. Email: abaniudgata@gmail.com

SUN

Ajit Dash

Three sixty shapes, cercle having zero form

Timepiece outline for a day being twelve hours

Sun, Moon and Stars amongst eight Basus

Life lives for Earth, Water, Hot fire, Wind and Sky

Twelve aspects of Sun represent the twelve months

Not only Astro design bearing dozens of Zodiac sign

Occupying each thirty degrees of celestial longitude

Without sun would be lifeless ball of ice-coated rock

Supreme soul who brings light and warmth

Creator of the universe and the source of all life

Makes plant life possible through photosynthesis

Drives weather, ocean currents, seasons and climate

MOTHER BHAGABATI

Ajit Dash

In the regime of demon King Banasura

Sacrifice of human in sodasaupachara puja’

Concludes with Dussehra -the 16-day worship

Goddess not appeased got buried under the earth

Time elapsed in fourteenth century issueless ruler

Advised by saint of Kamaskhya peetha to worship

The Divine Mother Bhagabati who residing in

The Capital of formerly Sailodhvaba dynasty

Goddess asked king in a dream to rescue her

hence dugout the idol where was lying buried

King’s wishes fulfilled, once more jagir’s sacrifices

The practice is now limited to tokenism

A man enacts the role of a sacrificial offering

Jagir accosted by thousand eyes old women

Covet Maa set a condition of enact role of sacrificial

leaves his home to return on Kumar Purnima night

A garland of flower from the deity her authorisation

Kathi Thakurani from the Dakshya Prajapati

Austere life and undergoes the sacrifice ritual for

Ninth century Shakti cult a native of Bajrayana cult

Poet Sri Ajit Dash by birth inherits his forefather Pariskhit Rathasharma’s legacy as one of the Navaratna Ministers of a Royal King. Being an astute organiser, socio-political as well as Development activist, he has made his presence globally. A freelance journalist and motivator, Sri Ajit Dash leads his life with lots of diversifications as an expert, imbued with utmost passion in the fields of Literature, Language, Environment, Governance, Entrepreneurship Promotion. He is experienced in Media house promotion and Electoral Politics too. Now a days his study is going on in the Use of Multilingualism, Wavelength and frequency of Odia Script, Words and Sentence pronunciation by different speakers in a multilingual perspective. Prof D. K. Ray, Late Prof of English, had compared his poems with the legendary Irish poet W. B. Yeats in the preface to his book of poetry “Midnight Dream” published in 2017. Sri Dash follows his father’s poetic accomplishments as his recently published book "Wings of Burning Violin" has been a great success.

PROVE CRITICS A BIG LIE...

Dr R S Tewari "Shikhresh"

Why to feel low ,

Better you trow

Him who designs

Life and reigns

Over His creation,

Without discrimination.

Yes,you are ever you ,

None stands in lieu .

Wink within yourself,

And identify the pelf

You hold the empire

Of aura and ultra fire.

Sever not with confidence,

Rather a new precedence,

By being judiciously upright ,

Till the fag end, fight and fight

In the mist and myth of life

To root out writhe with strife

Your torch bearer is

with you ,

Who Chose you amongst

a few .

Go ,go and fly as high

as the sky ,

And prove your critics

a big lie .

Dr R. S.Tewari 'Shikhresh' is a retired Assistant Director(O.L.)from Govt of India ,awarded by Honourable President of India,Honourable Governor of Uttarakhand and U.P.,Honourable State Home Minister (Govt of India) for commendable work in Official Language of the country is an M.A.( English Literature ,Hindi Lit. Philosophy ),PG Dip.(Translation and Journalism )and Ph.D.in Philosophy of Religion ,

Dr Tewari to his credit has 23 books of English verses,Hindi verses,books on Official Language and English Grammar.He has delivered more than five hundred lectures in various workshops on various topics.He has written more than a dozen of reviews of books in Hindi and English. Having started his career as an English teacher ,Dr Tewari worked as a Translation Officer, Hindi Pradhyapak and Assistant Director (Official Language) in Income -tax Dept.He has also served as a Consultant, Officilal Language and Communication in a training Centre of the ministry of MSME.

He has also worked in the Departments of Philosophy and Journalism in Agra University as a visiting faculty for a short span. Presently, he is a Visiting Faculty in the distance cell of D E I Deemed University, Dayalbagh ,Agra (UP),India.

ADIEU

Bijayalaxmi Rath

Evening in her sublime attire bade adieu

to the last touch of golden rays.

Drops and drops of emotions gathered

in the hearts of home comings.

Solemn night slowly spreads it's dark velvety wings.

Love birds weave silky emotions to indulge

I squeezed , restless with my echoes of love had to bade adieu to the portion of

my existence where l don't mere survive

but live my life.

Where my life's all convex and concave

reflections are celebrated.

Where l grow with love and care and with hand in hand l share.

With whom my veins tickle and tingle more being love caffeinated.

My sweetest part separated piercing my

heart with melancholic tears.

His abode in distant land beckons his

existence.

Merciless separation is the ultimatum of distant union.

Not a migratory bird, he is my array of hope, a fraction of merge, a mesmerizing vastness, a whole soulmate.

Rhapsody of longing embraced all the desolate moments.

With the smart dancing evening lamps

my city dazzled in lambent glow.

With my sobbing heart and teary eyes

I fade.

Adieu l bade.

LET'S BE SKY AND EARTH.

Bijayalaxmi Rath

Oh! My dear

Let's smear some unfading colours of love like Sky and Earth.

Let's reflect in each other with intense intensity like Sky and Earth.

Let's defeat distance merging secretly in distant horizon like Sky and Earth.

Let's enjoy melodious morning and harmonious evening amalgam ing our exalted emotions like Sky and Earth.

Let's pledge to keep intact ' forever 'in every season and situation.

Let's engulf unceasing stimulating sensation of our year aged companionship

like Sky and Earth.

Let's celebrate lifelong captivity in each other's heart like Sky and Earth.

Let our love be a scintillating venture of

the universe with the example of

'Made For Each Other '.

Bijayalaxmi Rath done masters in English from Utkal University Odisha. Works as PGT English St Xavier International school Bhubaneswar.

Multilingual poetess writes in English Hindi and Odia. Published in different anthologies like Durga, Rainbow of Eastern Sky',Toshali etc. Bagged Gujarat Sahitya Academy award, Rabindra Nath Tagore award etc .

SILENCE

Nisha Luthra

There is

Calm in chaos

Emptiness in confluence

Darkness beneath lamp

Business of words

Loneliness in crowd

My struggling mind

Sourness in sweets

Unquenchable thirst

Darkness in light

Sleeping while awake

Your presence even

In your absence

Fading colors of flowers

Wick turning into smoke

Tastelessness in Kheer

Unattractive flame of love

Diwali turning into ashes

Without you!

But you're there even

In your absence

For us to hear you speak

Every Diwali!

Nisha Luthra is a Film and Theatre Director, Poet and Playwright. She is the Founder and Director of The Narrators Performing Arts Society, India. She is also the Head, India of the Leinster School of Music and Drama, Ireland. She is also known for her book, Uns which is a collection of her Hindi poems with varied themes like, love, human relations, art and artists. The book is being translated into multiple languages and will be available soon for the readers.

AWAITING SPRING

Debarati Sen

On a full moon night

I stood by my window

Lighting the cigar of reminiscence.

Its fragrance wafted in the air

spilling my secrets to the stars.

The winter clock struck midnight

with fireflies humming a hibiscus lullaby in baritone.

As my fingers held one paradox after another

pain stuck in my nails like dirt.

I tried to hide them

with a french manicure.

Hiding anxiety beneath the nude nail paint.

I smoked up the moonlight

And let the ashes fall

into the ashtray of yesteryears.

On a full moon night I shared with the sea my sunken soul.

It roared like my dreams

The moonlight caressed my neck

and rested its tired head on my shoulders.

Together,we waited for spring

To drown our fears amidst cherry blossoms.

Recipient of the ‘POIESIS AWARD FOR EXCELLENCE IN POETRY -2023’, Tagore Award 2022 and the Sylvia Plath Women's Literary Award, Debarati is a poet from Kolkata. She writes both long verses and haiku. She has published two solo poetry collections and has contributed to more than 10 anthologies. She is a regular contributor of her poems to webzines like The Madras Courier, Kolkata Arts, Yugen Quest Review, The Piker Press. Her haiku have been published in the Haikuniverse and FiveFleas, Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Horror Senryu.

INFINITY AND BEYOND

Madhumita Dash

She witnessed the azure sky

And the blue vault above

Displaying conspicuously

The stormy story he told her

The dream he dreams more often...

She felt the breeze of their love

Seemingly wafting away all his distress

To the extensive horizon beyond the sea

To deck up and embellish

Another spectacular world of their happiness .

She learnt to let go the dark patch of clouds

Carry away the pain and dismay .

If only he could ever stepped in someday .

Someway to adorn again the carpet of life ,

With whole lot hopes , joy and delight .

She heard the restlessness of his heart

As if the pained sea ridges thrashing

And touching the bank ,

Going back elusively to anonymity .

She still stood firm holding his hands

To live again and to dance to love's own tune .

Born in Puri (Odisha), post-graduated in English Literature from Ravenshaw University, Cuttack and M. Phil from Bhanja Bihar University, Madhumita has always had a fascination with language and the power of words. Over the years, she has honed her skills, mastering multiple languages and developing a deep appreciation for the nuances of translation . Her passion about storytelling , commitment to the pursuit of truth and justice has inspired her pursue post-graduation in Journalism from IGNOU. She has a passion to learn multiple languages and deep understanding of different cultures She is a nature photographer and loves to contribute her time in social welfare

THE SUN KISSED FACE

Meena Mishra

She knew she was a bit late.

Winter had overshadowed her fate.

But under the influence of Ishtar,

She managed to make some time.

To catch-up with him,

Even though he had reached his prime.

He articulated his deep anger for a while,

Then mellowed down to wear a smile.

Stretching her hands towards him,

She tried to match-up with his warmth.

Ego, hurt, jealousy and pride,

Decided to quit them,

Taking an immediate flight.

Their heart beats increased,

And made his fury cease.

On meeting of the eyes, breathing increased.

The crawling time decided to freeze.

What a golden opportunity!

How could he miss!

Apollo took her in a tight embrace.

And rewarded her with his warmest kiss.

His adrenalin began to race.

Looking at her dazzling sun kissed face.

MEENA MISHRA is an out of -the box-thinker, inspiring hundreds of students, teachers and working professionals across the world, turn into published writers and poets. She is an award-winning author, poet, short-story writer, social worker, novelist, editor, an educator and a publisher. The Impish Lass Publishing House is her brainchild. Her poems, stories and book-reviews have been published in many international journals and magazines.

She is the recipient of several prestigious awards. She is an active member of Mumbai English Educators’ Team and was invited by the Education Department of Maharashtra to be a part of The Review Committee for the new English text book. She has been working as the International Coordinator for British Council activities for more than 10 years. She has been invited as a judge for several literary competitions and lit fests including the Lit fest of IIT Bombay and NM college fest. Her poems are published in many magazines, including the prestigious periodical Woman’s Era. She has been a contributing author and poet for more than 100 books. Her books include- The Impish Lass, Emociones Infinitas , Within The Cocoon of Love and The Impish Lass Book 2.

MOTHER

Seetha Sethuraman

Unconditional love is thy name “mother” …

Who bolsters us through every storm and weather,

The warmth of her smile, the gentleness of her embrace…

She is the epitome of soul and grace.

TRUE JOY

Seetha Sethuraman

You are born alone,

So, cultivate the art of strongly battling your struggles alone...

Then, you will truly experience the flight beneath your life's wings,

And, you will dance to the music that your joyous heart sings...

HOPE FLOATS (PENNED DURING COVID)

Seetha Sethuraman

As my motherland bleeds and burns and nothing seems to make sense…

Only a mother’s comforting words that don’t lose hope; seems to hold some essence.

It’s that hope that keeps our heart afloat,

And, will hopefully navigate our rocking boats.

IN MEMORIAM (PENNED DURING COVID)

Seetha Sethuraman

Ravaged by Covid, our dear friend left us for another world,

Lovely, unending memories of happier times are what remain behind...

O Almighty God, hoping that there would be a better tomorrow,

As of now, our thoughts are enveloped with despair and sorrow.

Tall in structure and a smile always on his face, he was a warm friend to many,

But, as they say, life is unpredictable and uncanny…

O Almighty Lord, please provide utmost strength to his family,

Whilst they face up to this insurmountable tragedy.

Seethaa Sethuraman has had a creative orientation right from her school days – dabbling in writing,drawing and painting as well as learning Indian dance forms and Carnatic music. Thereafter, the usual suspect in professional education and corporate pursuits assumed centre stage (B.Pharm, MBA by education and a Health market researcher by profession); till the pandemic strongly nudged her to delve back into her creative side; alongside her continuing corporate endeavours. While formally learning Bharatanatyam had already begun since mid-2018; writing poems and drawing-painting turned somewhat prolific since the last 2 years.

As per seethaa, she writes/ draws-paints when the calling within her turns so strong at that moment; that it just cannot be brushed aside till it has been acted upon. So far, she has been doing them for her own self without giving much thought about publishing them. Coming across the Literary vibes platform has, however, enthused her to share this creative happiness with the outer world. Through this process, she also looks forward to receiving feedback/ comments that will encourage her to keep creative expressing; always.

LOST SCENTS OF SPRING!

Sudipta Mishra

Dear Spring, where have you gone?

Like the lost glory of treasured moments,

Now, the fragrance of love is not my fate

I try to seek my love in the beams of the moon

But you are nowhere!

Like my beloved, from my sky, you disappear

The Seasonal flowers have lost their scent

Everywhere, there is the siren of war

Oh, I can hear, I can hear the sound of fights

Abandoned by all, I seek the smell in lone nights

The perfume of blooming seasons

The cadence of pure passion

Now, I miss everything

Nowhere the bird is alighted on the twigs

Oh, I miss everything with the aroma of Spring

Sudipta Mishra

AN UNFINISHED RACE

Sudipta Mishra

Exhausted with the levels of this race

Now, I quit

In the Marathon of my life

So many hurdles I face

Evil faces masked with novelty

Try to pull down me with a wild chase

For what do they challenge?

In the dusky sky of faded shadows

I run in an utter darkness

I sense the glorious heavenly presence

My savior is there

I tumble and lament with affliction

I can see the demons behind me

They struggle to reach a goal, unknown

I run to touch the point devoid of reasons

Now, I realize my vain quest

Each time, they put me on a test

And, I refuse

Also, I reject

I accept my doom

By choosing my failures

I embrace permanence ...

Sudipta Mishra is a multi-faceted artist and dancer excelling in various fields of art and culture. She has co-authored more than a hundred books. Her book, 'The Essence of Life', is credited with Amazon's bestseller. Her next creation, 'The Songs of My Heart' is scaling newer heights of glory. Her poems are a beautiful amalgamation of imagery and metaphors. She has garnered numerous accolades from international organizations like the famous Rabindranath Tagore Memorial, Mahadevi Verma Sahitya Siromani Award, an Honorary Doctorate, and so on. She regularly pens articles in newspapers as a strong female voice against gender discrimination, global warming, domestic violence against women, pandemics, and the ongoing war. She is pursuing a Ph.D. degree in English. Her fourth book, Everything I Never Told You is a collection of a hundred soulful poems. Currently, she is residing in Puri.

TREMORS IN TURKEY

Pradeep Biswal

Just within seconds

The skyscrapers

All the high rises

Everything collapsed

Like a house of cards

Cracks appeared

Everywhere

The walls

The surfaces

The sky

The skull

The bones

The heart

The veins

Had fractures

Inside them.

Fire and smoke

Engulfed the area

Heart wrenching cries

Chocked voices

From inside the debris

Filled the air.

The men in sleep

Woke up to see

The horror in sight

Panicked

The birds left their nests

For unknown destinations.

Life hung in balance

Amidst chaos

And confusion

With endless waits

For rescue and relief

Man proved helpless

Before the fierce

Wrath of nature.

Many perished

In the catastrophe

Only few survived

Miraculously.

Near and dear ones

And many more lost

In the milieu

The tears on the cheeks

And the blood clots

On the body

Dried up in the meanwhile.

The carcasses around

Got removed and buried

Life is returning

To normalcy once again

Dispelling the fear

Of death and deluge.

Mr. Pradeep Biswal is a bilingual poet writing both in Odia and English. His poems are widely anthologized. He is also an editor and translator of repute. A retired IAS Officer, Mr. Biswal presently holds the position of Member, Odisha Real Estate Regulatory Authority and stays with his family at Bhubaneswar. Views are Personal.

SITA

Manjula Asthana Mahanti

I'm not devi Sita

I'm not,

I wasn't rescued from an earthen pot

Didn't enjoy the luxuries life of a princess in palace

Never imagined of gallantry prince,

Coming on a white horse for me

Neither got married to a prince

Never went for exile, only for a promise sake

I wasn't replica of Indian culture ever

Never been kidnapped

Rather, have courage to face

Ravana,

Never challenged for Agnipariksha

Now ,no agnipariksha, sitas are burnt alive,

I have accumulated self-confidence

To fight for my subsistence

Have educated myself inspite of odds

I confront with nasty comments,vulger eyes every day,

Walk confidently besides terrifying situations

Humiliation, harassment can't stop me,

My life, my honour always endangered

It's not Satyug of Sita

Now it's Kalyug,where

Women have to go through

Agnipariksha,each & every moment

I'm struggling bravely

Can't bend before cruelty, injustice

No, l'm not Sita, neither wish to be,

Never ever....

Manjula Asthana Mahanti is a published trilingual poet, author, editor, translator and story teller. She has eight collections on her credit along with a long list of participation in national, international anthologies, e-magazines, Webinars and Lit. Fests etc.

She is recipient of several national, international awards, Samman Gujarat and Telangana sahitya akademy, Amongst many more, recent award I received," Icons of Asia " and B. R. Ambedkar award.Hind Shiromani and Global Achiever's award.

PICTURES

Aneek Chatterjee

Some conversations are like

treasured pictures; hang from different

walls and corners of the hidden chamber.

These portray joy and melancholy;

warmth of quilt inside an inexplicable

scent of ancient sojourn.

The soft winter sun; unending gossip

deep inside the river, provide

brush and colors for these treasures.

Some pictures take our breath away.

We die for moments, only to be

resuscitated in our pains.

Pains have an enormous palette,

like our joy, love, agony,

victory and defeats.

Pictures are nothing but conversations,

whispers, laughter, bi-cycle pranks,

I hang in different corners, everyday.

Aneek Chatterjee is a poet and academic from Kolkata, India. He has published more than five hundred poems in reputed literary magazines and poetry anthologies across the globe. He authored 16 books including four poetry collections titled, “Seaside Myopia” (Cyberwit, 2018), “Unborn Poems and Yellow Prison” (Cyberwit, 2019), “Of Ashes and Persiflage” (Hawakal, 2020) and “Archive Avenue” (Cyberwit, 2022). He also co-edited the “Poetry Conclave Year Book 2022” (Authors Press). Dr. Chatterjee received the prestigious “Alfredo Pasilono Memorial Panorama International Literary Award 2023”, conferred by the Writers Capital Foundation. He was a Fulbright Visiting faculty at the University of Virginia, USA and a recipient of the ICCR Chair (Govt. of India) to teach abroad. His poetry has been archived at Yale University. He can be reached at: akchatjee@gmail.com

FISH NETS ON PALOLEM BEACH

Pankhuri Sinha

Fish nets neatly folded

On blue boats

At the end of the shore

Strong fish smell

Lingered on the beach

And whenever that happens

Arrives satyawati !

Fisherman’s daughter

Who became the queen

To turn the tide of history

On the eve of the epic battle

Mahabharata!

Even the sea will tell you its story!

Why only Sanjay?

Nothing older than the sea!

Nothing younger than its vibrant

Forever beating heart!

Nothing newer than its fresh

Roaring waves!

Ceaselessly, crashing at your feet!

Though it has happened

Only once in my life

That picking up

A long, tall conch shell

From a receeding evening wave

On beach Palolem

I found it alive!

The creature crawled out

Out of its magnificiently

Beautiful, colourful, curvy shell

Pleading for help!

I screamed in fear!

No, I didn’t drop it

Right there, though the

Two tentecles bulging out

Sucked my life blood

But the fellow was simply

Imploring for his life!

Air or water?

What was more vital?

Why couldn’t he survive on the shore?

Beyond the threat of trampling human feet

What else made existence in the shallow

Waters near impossible?

‘Can you not breathe

My dear fellow?’

Implored I of him

And only heard the roaring waves!

On a near full-moon night!

After the drizzles had driven

The People away!

What a moment it was

Of coming face to face

With the ocean’s might!

The life of the sea!

Giant and big

Mysterious and glorious!

Tossed I did

The creature of grace

Hoped and prayed

Floating it went

In the heart of the water!

But there were others like it

Alive and dead! O cruel waves

Don’t bring them ashore!

But was it the fishing net?

Oh! Is it the tale of life and death

War and peace, playing night and day?

As I walked away, the swinging curtains

Of sea shells charmed me less!

But what a tale, what a touch

The beach had!

Never met the sea so alive

As in Goa Palolem!

Pankhuri Sinha is a bilingual poet, story writer and translator from India. Two poetry collections published in English, two story collections published in Hindi, six poetry collections published in Hindi, and many more are lined up. Has been published in many journals, anthologies, home and abroad. Has won many prestigious, national-international awards, like the Girija Kumar Mathur Award, Chitra Kumar Shailesh Matiyani Award, Seemapuri Times Rajeev Gandhi Excellence Award, First prize for poetry by Rajasthan Patrika, awards in Chekhov festival in Yalta and in Premio Besio Poetry competition in Italy, Sahitto award in Bangladesh, and Premio Galateo in Italy for poetry in mother tongue. Has been translated in over twenty seven languages.

She has studied in Delhi University, Symbiosis Pune, SUNY Buffalo, and the University of Calgary, Canada. She has worked in various positions as a journalist, lecturer and a content editor. Has done writing residencies in Hungary and Bulgaria, and attended the Tranas Literature Festival in Sweden.

LOST

Dr. Bidyutprabha Gantayat

A torn kite

I'm no where

in the abundant air

trembling and quivering to find a grip to

shelter a hope

Stagereing and wobbling

shunt in to the vast azure

heither to theither by the gush of wild wind!

May I tuck to the barren branches of a leafless tree

like a disfigured flag on a wrecked mast of a sunken vessel.

May I fall upon

the troubled waters of a mountain fall

to its fathomless depths of drowning fury

May I float restlessly in the infinite sky for ever and ever address nowhere

Oh! broken string

thy nuptial cord

You disowned me

you dispensed me

shunned me to the aimless vast

like an autumn leaf to murmur and murmur...

Professor Dr Bidyutprabha Gantayat is a well known and acclaimed writer, poet and translator of odia literature. She belongs to Odisha, lives in Bhubaneswar. A retired professor in chemistry by profesion. She writes in Odia, Hindi and English and translates to and fro in four languages namely Odia Hindi English and Bengali.

She also pens childrens literature. She has published 18 books on all the above category of literature to her credit. Among her significant literary work the translation of Gyanpeeth awardee Mohadevi Verna's poems, short stories and essays form Hindi to Odia and published books. Since 2014 she regularly publishes The Japanese format of English poetry ( haiku poetry ) in different poetry groups of social media worldwide. Published and earned accolades.

She has also been honoured and felicitated by different litrary organizations of the state.

HEALING IS NOT LINEAR!

Diptirekha Das

Healing is not linear

It may be a continuous process stick with you

For your life long.

At one stage you’re in deep pain

And after a while you’ve to accept it to move on.

A strong bonding, special feelings are always like a treasure.

A dear one’s permanent absence always hurts deeper.

That someone will be missed for longer.

Like they say..

“Life is not short actually, it’s us who started late to live

By the time we understood our path

It’s time then for us to leave.”

If we can realise that..

Life is for everything but not for any harsh differences.

Because one day you’ll be forgotten at an astonishing pace.

THE FORGOTTEN SPRING

Diptirekha Das

Spring !

The king of the seasons.

The blooming earth

The exuberance of budding youth and radiant love.

Serene, sublime, soothing breeze’s tour

Vistas of verdure just post winter

Nowhere to be found now.

Perhaps it is in slumber.

A season so close to everyone’s heart

The aromatic wind and the happiest song of the larks.

No longer in existence

Almost disappeared now.

It’s only the feeling of hot summer just post winter.

Once used to be solely the spring tour.

Probably the vengeance of mother nature

That now we’re experiencing the extreme climatic disorders.

Scorching summer during pour seasons and heavy rains in winters.

A big lesson to the irresponsible human behaviour

That now nothing can be taken for granted

Neither the seasons nor our world.

The paramount urgency of protecting the climate should be our top task of the hour.

A wish…

Let again the spring comes alive beyond just our poetic lines.

And not to be remembered as “the forgotten spring”.

Diptirekha Das is a postgraduate in Economics from Utkal University hailing from Bhubaneswar. She is an active blogger & a bilingual poetess writing in Odia and English language. She has a great passion for literature. She has contributed towards many national & international anthologies. Few of her articles also published in many social platforms.

EVERYWOMAN

Jairam Seshadri

Only when it comes from a voice within, does she grow.

When an Ah-Ah! is instructed from without, she sees chaff.

Even if she knows what she has been told would make her glow -

To the point she abandons her loves, takes up another.

It was not always like this, she would sit in the first row,

Attentive, laserlike, absorbing, hawk-eyes observing

Every nuanced modulation of her Heroes.

Yet, for some reason, she derailed,

Does she, within, have faith - believe she is capable?

Does she feel unworthy of scaling dizzying heights?

She knows in some antre of her mind’s lore, that “I am more”

- yet takes not a step more,

Remains as is, blames the world’s Ego.

The chinks in her ingrained, almost genetic to the core

But a shout-out to her -

“They are not irredeemably so.

There is a way, ever, and it is this Everywoman:

It is this.

Sit down. Pray!

Pray to the One above.

Yes, to the One Above

And She

Will

WILL

Erase

Your Woes.”

Jairam Seshadri is the author of MANTRA YOGA ( 2021 Rupa Publications) WOOF SONGS & THE ETERNAL SELF-SABOTEUR (2019 Partridge) and JESUS SAHASRANAM - THE 1,008 NAMES OF JESUS CHRIST (2018 Authorspress). He is a CPA with an MBA from the US and has worked in the U.S, Canada and England for over 30 years before returning to India to take care of his father.

He founded the India Poetry Circle (IPC)) six years ago, which has seven anthologies to the group’s credit, in addition to two more in the pipeline to be published this year. IPC, through its offshoot, IPC PLAYERS, has also produced and staged several skits, as part of its ‘POETRAMA’© series, including a production of Shakespeare’s MACBETH online. Shakespeare’s KING LEAR will be staged online this Christmas 2022.

Jairam lives in Chennai and can be reached at 9884445498 or jairamseshadri@hotmail.com.

EVERY TIME

Aparna P

Every time I think of getting closer

I am dragged away by destiny

Every time I think I’m strong

I stagger with the burden

Every time I think I let go

I realise that it’s still glued

Every time I think it’s over

I see the vicious cycle

Every time I think it’s better

I get a doubt if it is?

Every time I think of moving on

I end up coming back

Every time I take one step forward

I’m clueless why its otherwise!

Aparna is a poet, writer, academic and a lover of literature. “Speck of a Soul" was her first published anthology of poems in 2019. Her poems have also been published in several anthologies of repute. She coauthored and published “Painting Dreams" - yet another anthology of poems in 2020. She was the Editor of “Metamorphosis”, a book devoted to Art and Poetry.

Asian Literary Society conferred “Poet of the Year Award” on her in the year 2022. She received “Poet of the year” award from Ukiyoto Publishing House in the year 2022. She was awarded the “Best Poet - Editor’s choice” by Spectrum Awards in May 2021. Her poem *Saviour’s Destiny* was long-listed for IPR Annual Award 2020.

The Altrusa international Madras club on the occasion of Women's day (March,2020) awarded her for her service in the field of education and writing. Her latest collection “Snippets of the Soul”(2021) is a book of quotes. Aparna lives in Chennai, with her tag line,” She lives a life of Poetry”.

NATURE

An Acrostic Poem

Sundar Rajan S

Nonpareil, I oft dispel the monotony,

As silently, few souls, thro' me, seek harmony.

Transformed through my inner source of Divinity,

Unbridled calm surface in the vicinity.

Reverberating bliss, my salient feature,

Enlightened souls seamlessly embrace me, NATURE.

HAPPINESS

Sundar Rajan S

The moment one begins to count their blessings,

One feels a refreshing calm, enveloping,

The heart and the mind then synchronising,

Emerges HAPPINESS, so galvanising

Spreading positive air, so tantalising,

To scale greater heights, for long, felt so daunting.

S. Sundar Rajan is a Chartered Accountant with his independent consultancy. He is a published poet and writer. His collection of short stories in English has been translated into Tamil,Hindi, Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada and Gujarati. His stories translated in Tamil have been broadcast in community radios in Chennai

and Canada. He was on the editorial team of three anthologies, Madras Hues, Myriad Views, Green Awakenings, and Literary Vibes 100. He has published a unique e anthology, wherein his poem in English "Full Moon Night" has been translated into fifteen foreign languages and thirteen Indian regional languages.

An avid photographer and Nature lover, he is involved in tree planting initiatives in his neighbourhood. He lives his life true to his motto - Boundless Boundaries Beckon.

BATTLEFIELD

Tandra Mishra

Is battlefield thy place much favourite?

Why then you remain there day & night?

Jewelries, land and many more tempting things around you.

Neither you look at them, nor you shower kindness a few.

What burns you, blazes you from inside?

Continuously to work for right cause and a path right?

Never you skipped from the promises with thyself you made.

O Lady, O my friend! What words can suit you, I offer you as gift?

Thorns, bushes and many more hurdles in thy path you met.

Picking them up one by one, the journey clean you made.

What can bother you any more?

When bit by bit you are bled from heart-core.

Born You are to blossom, to grow with power,

Unstoppable You are with thy eternal summer.

Tandra Mishra is a poet from Raiganj,West Bengal, eastern part of India. She is an honours graduate and post graduate in English. She has been writing poems since her childhood. Many of her poems have been published in online websites, print magazines and anthologies. Some of her famous works are "Oh Lady!", "I, A Female Foetus", "A Heavenly Gift", "No More War, Please" etc.

She is a published author. Her first poetry book's title is 'Oh Father!'. She is a member of World Nations Writers' Union. She has received an award from FUREC, which was launched by our former President Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam. She writes on social issues, specially about women's empowerment. Her ironical and satirical works advocate peace and corruption free society.

I REGRET NOT AFTERNOON THOUGHTS

Prof. Dr. Sidhartha Das

I regret not that, couldn't live to my brim,

Regret that, couldn't fulfil my dream.

I regret not that, worked too hard,

Regret that my toil didn't get it's reward.

I regret not that, showered

heartfelt love and affections ,

Regret that, couldn't convey my feelings to every person.

I regret not that, couldn't spare time for loved ones,

Regret that, despite the best, was often thought wrong.

I regret not that, didn't care to groom comradaire ,

Regret that, time played villain, repeatedly lost coterie.

I regret not that, age has catched on me,

Regret that, will not be able to complete my theme.

I regret not that, solitude is the goal of the game,

Regret that, have to move alone, because for mortals the rule is same.

Prof. Dr. Sidhartha Das is a renowned Medicine Specialist and Diabetologist of Odisha. He retired as Principal of the SCB Medical College, Cuttack. He is a recipient of many awards including Life Times Contribution Award (2014), Madras Diabetes Research Foundation, Life Time Achievement Award (2019), Research Trust of Diabetes India, Distinguished Services Award (2019), Research Society for Study of Diabetes in India. He has been, among other things, the Chairman of the Association of Physicians in India, Odisha Branch (2011) and Vice President, Diabetes India, and a Medical Expert for the Odisha Human Roghts Commission (2010-19). He lives in Cuttack and is passionate about literature, reading and writing poems and anecdotal stories.

THE ORCHARD

Amb. Arun Sahu

As I left home as a young traveller,

She cleared a patch of the fallowed land

Near the river

Besides our ancestral home,

Gifted to my grandfather by the local king;

And planted a mango tree.

Every time I visited,

I learnt her adding a sapling or two,

Of variety and genre

Of locals and borrowed,

I had no time to see them grow,

I could only hear,

A few died, and many survived.

I have returned.

I listen to the orchard now.

It has grown dense and profound.

Cuckoos, squirrels, parrots and crows,

Dry leaves and weaver birds’ nests,

Litters of seeds and fruits,

Some pecked, and others consumed.

The river has dried,

And she is gone.

Arun Sahu is a diplomat and a writer. He was India’s High Commissioner to Trinidad and Tobago, India’s Deputy High Commissioner to Canada and Deputy Director General of the Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR). He served as a Board Member on the US-India Educational Foundation and the Canada-India Centre for Excellence in Science, Technology Trade and Policy at Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada. As a diplomat, he has served in Indian Embassies in Beijing, London, Tehran and Ottawa.

He writes poems, fiction and non-fiction in English and Odia. His recent publication is “Trinidad and Tobago: A Diplomat’s Cultural Expedition”. His previous publications are Iguana and Other Poems, Shunyara Shantulana (Balance of Zero), Jajabarara Jatra (A Mandarin’s Journey), Chira Malata (The Torn Cover) and Akashara Luha (Tears of the Sky).

At present in Delhi as Joint Secretary (Central Europe), Ministry of External Affairs.

KOYAL OF TIME

Snehaprava Das

Every year

When the days begin to grow longer

And the nights turn shy

The koyal returns to the mango tree

Beyond my compound wall

It sings through out the day

Tireless, undeterred like Time,

When the sun gallops down

The silent summer streets on its

Winged horse of light,

I wonder what does it sing about

May be the virgin notes of love and loss

It picked from the crumpled pages of

A diary lying under the burning snows,

Or the tales of bloody battles

At the foot of moody, monotonous mountains

And by the reddened, mourning rivers,

Does it sing the lore of peace, or of

Friendship, brotherhood and togetherness

In a world torn by envy and fear

By pride, greed and grief

And welcome the unborn children

To a paradise yet unbuilt,

Hiding in the scathing greens

It pours out its stubborn melody

Unafraid, undefiled, prodding

It sings may be about

the undying tales of a Truth

That is born anew every time it

Returns to the summer-worn mango tree

Beyond my compound wall;

Snehaprava Das, former Associate Professor of English is a noted translator and poet. She has five collections of English poems to her credit Dusk Diary, Alone, Songs of Solitude, Moods and Moments and Never Say No to a Rose)

THE DOOR OF OPPORTUNITY

Setaluri Padmavathi

I reached the door again,

The green wooden door faded

after a long time, suspiciously

I could hear no sound

Or see folks around me

Hmm! Will I get to see him today?

I knocked at the door repeatedly

And waited for the sound of his footsteps

I recalled my meeting four years ago

During the moonlit night, at the beach

When we discussed worldly topics,

And defined love and the purpose of life!

Ah! A haunting sweet memory!

Today, I stood at the lucky door

I banged the rusty chain thrice

Expecting his pleasant presence

In a moment, he stood in front of me

Shaking my hands with a lovely smile!

The clinging bell of the iron chain

Made me hopeful again and again

The unique person

Whom I was longing to meet,

Opened the door of opportunity

Lifting my spirits of enthusiasm!

ONCE IN A LIFETIME

Setaluri Padmavathi

O, dear! It’s a high time you need to realize

Life is full of miseries, twists and turns

Try your feet on an adventurous path

Have a thrilling experience once in a lifetime!

Judge, not one’s heart and mind like a cover

You know not another soul conceals him

He appears like fine wine in your eyes

Understand him with no fail once in a lifetime!

Natural resources make you breathe in

God can satisfy your need, but not greed

Think not detriment is always a necessity

Be grateful for the blessings once in a lifetime!

You shed teardrops in every torment

O, dear! Anger ever disturbs your soul

Laugh loudly and smile pleasantly seldom

Amaze at amazing life once in a lifetime!

Sing soulful lyrics though you can’t

Dance gladly to the rhythm of the sea

You’ve so much to do! And so little done!

Think selfishly for yourself once in a lifetime!

Mrs. Setaluri Padmavathi, a postgraduate in English Literature with a B.Ed., has been in the field of education for more than three decades. Writing has always been her passion that translates itself into poems of different genres, short stories and articles on a variety of themes and topics. She is a bilingual poet and writes poems in Telugu and English. Her poems were published in many international anthologies and can be read on her blogsetaluripadma.wordpress.com. Padmavathi’s poems and other writings regularly appear on Muse India.com. Boloji.com, Science Shore, Setu, InnerChild Press Anthologies and Poemhunter.com

DUSK

Ravi Ranganathan

'The day is done', west a scattered crimson

as curves of clouds bolster the horizon.

Rigours of network toil

tensions of stressful hours

take their toll;

beleaguered eyes

besieged by lies

feast fierily this sunset scene,

its sheer sheen calm the nerves

transient twilight douses the day’s fires...

Even before dusk emits its snowfall

to soothe my aesthetics

Dawn is getting armed

to restore my insanity...

Ravi Ranganathan is a writer, critic and a poet from Chennai. Also a retired banker. He has to his credit three books of poems titled “Lyrics of Life” and “Blade of green grass” and “Of Cloudless Climes”. He revels in writing his thought provoking short poems called ‘ Myku’. Writes regularly for several anthologies. His awards include recognition in "Poiesis award for excellence" of Poiesisonline, Sahitya Gaurav award by Literati Cosmos Society, Mathura and’ Master of creative Impulse ‘award by Philosophyque Poetica. He contributes poems for the half yearly Poetry book Metverse Muse . He writes regularly for the monthly webzine “ Literary Vibes” and “ Glomag”.He is the Treasurer of Chennai Poets’ Circle.

THE SPARROW AND THE SPRING

Sujata Dash

Spring descends on earth

holds my soul in deep embrace

a simmering weave of promises unfold

magnificence of rainbows

bidding goodbye to the harsh winter

I set out to palpate

alluring fragrances of love and hope

no matter how much was lost

no matter how much I missed

the chirps and twitters

the valiant sun this morning

the red flash ruddling the belly of clouds

made me boisterous

many moods and shades of mine mingled

shaped up ardent affection

conjuring a carefree laugh

I glance at the little sparrow

on my window sill

bursting with excitement and glee

we come face to face

to exchange notes of happiness

I proffer some seeds and grains

earn joyous countenance in return

"It is worth twitching slumber

for the nights are no more longer"

I mumble -

let the spirit of incandescence

rule my platter

as the dark draws on twilight

this evening...with half tones of moonlight

let me soak in the serene tete-a tete

that I had this morning with the sparrow

indulge in an endless smile

like a swaggering lad poking fun.

Sujata Dash is a poet from Bhubaneswar, Odisha. She is a retired banker. She has three published poetry anthologies(More than Mere-a bunch of poems, Riot of hues and Eternal Rhythm-all by Authorspress, New Delhi) to her credit. She is a singer, avid lover of nature. She regularly contributes to anthologies worldwide.

THE CITYLIGHTS

Arpita Priyadarsini

Winter has taken over

And the sky looks vague

With all the stars

Trying to capture

Each other's little glimpses

I sit by my window

Staring at these stars

Thinking of the last time

I tried to count them

And failed miserably

So I look at them

And smile

Smile at my vulnerability

And their obviousness

Moving away is a process of fading away into the oblivion

And never coming back

To the same place ever again

But however it acts like

The pheonix that rises from the ashes

Over and over again

Yet doesn't get tired of it's uncertainty

The citylights flicker bright

On the days you decide to sleep early

Constantly reminding you

Of the restlessness that's been growing

Inside you constantly

You try to hide inside your blanket

And avoid the constant flickering

Of the lights that matches

With the exact colours of your dreams and ruins all together

And it takes ages for you

to realise that the thing you're hiding yourself with

Is doing nothing but choking you more and more

With each passing moment

The scattered pieces of your heart

Reflect the scarcity of love and belongingness

When all you do

Is to try feeding them

With miseries and lost hopes

Of your forgotten past

Arpita Priyadarsini, a Post Graduate of Department of Statistics in Utkal University, has keen interest in literature. She loves reading fiction and poetry. She started writing poems few years back and has been published by an international publication house twice. Her Instagram handle is @elly__.writes, which is solely dedicated to her love for poetry.

A PROMISE NEVER KEPT

Col (Dr) Rekha Mohanty

That day you extended

your hand when I requested

to keep it on my palm

like always you had done,

You agreed to keep

promise of a simple wish

you will never leave me alone…1

But I had forgotten that

promises are only made

to be broken never to be kept,

You blinked smiled and

nodded to the request,

That made me believe:

you are there with me

during every thick and thin,

Holding your hand I will cross

any rough terrain…..2

In fact against wish of

your own you had to

deceive me that day

being submerged in

your cold sweaty rain,

drowned with an

aching heart stuffed

with hidden pain,

You knew I would rather

hold your hand to lift

when you fall again,

To my misfortune

I couldn’t guess

the enormity of

the problem then,

For which I always feel guilty

and keep blaming me

how it could happen…..3

One dark morning you

really broke the promise

which in fact was just

an expression of your love,

You left me without even calling me

Finished the last leg of

your arduous journey alone,

I wish you could’ve

waited a little more,

We would have talked

little longer sitting together,

Holding hands and beholding

deep into eyes of each other,

opening our hearts

like never shared before……4

Rekha Mohanty is an alumni of SCB Medical College.She worked in Himachal Pradesh State Govt as a medical Officer and in unit of Para military Assam Rifles before joining Army Medical Corps.She worked in various Peace locations all over India and Field formations in High Altitudes.She was awarded service medal for her participation in Op Vijay in Kargil.She is post graduate in Hospital Management and has done commendable job in inventory management of busy 1030 bedded Army Base Hospital ,Delhi Cantonment for six years and offered Sena Medal and selected for UN Mission in Africa.After the service in uniform she worked in Ex Service Men Polyclinic in Delhi NCR till 2021.She writes short stories and poems both in English and Odia as a hobby and mostly on nature.Being a frequent traveler,she writes on places.She helps in educating on health matters in a NGO that works for women upliftment.As an animal lover she is involved in rehabilitation of injured stray dogs.
She lives mostly outside the state and visits Bhubaneswar very often after retirement.She likes to read non political articles of interest.She does honorary service for poor patients.

THE SEA FROM A FISHERMAN'S VILLAGE - 1

Bhagaban Jayasingh

Like a fisherman boy

The sea looks

Naked and vibrant

The sunrays blast

bast as a cruise missiles

Everyday,

burn his body black.

At a small distance from

the fisherman’s village

The wind wafts in their sighs of sorrow

As the sinister stench

spreads across the sea

The stench of the burning flesh.

The smoke and dust emanating

from the dog fights

turn into rotten sea fish;

the broken bones of sharks

floating among the beating waves

remind the sea of its inner violence.

Yet, the fisherman lives

in a style of his own

Though the sea recedes

like a young calf

from its sick mother

And distance carries him

on his cart of despair.

THE SEA FROM THE FISHERMEN'S VILLAGE - 2

Bhagaban Jayasingh

Caught in the fisherman's net

The sun looks like a spider

on its web

When carried along the beach

The sun flings away its shafts of virtue.

As the fisherman pulls its net

from the sea

Its floats bob up and down

in the sea waves

The fish-filled boat seems to float

in the emptiness.

Soon, fisherman returns home

Fishes to the market.

Caught in the illusion of fish

the fisherman locks his luck

with the sea waves.

With the descent of each night

Fishes rise up from their bed

enter the fisherman's hamlet

filling it with their different smells,

and call out,

'Hey you fisherman

Wake up, we are ready

take us prisoners in your illusory net.'

Dr. Bhagaban Jayasingh, an eminent bilingual writer, has published 9 collections of poetry in Odia and 8 in English and English translation. Black Eagle Books has brought out The Dapples of Darkness, a collection of his poetry and Footprints of Fire, a translation of seventy-four contemporary Odia poets. Dr Jayasingh has also published Door to Despair, a critical work on modernism in Odia poetry. He edited an anthology titled 7950 Parabarti Odia Poetry for Sahitya Akademi. Sahitya Akademi has also published Sitakant Mahapatra: A Reader in 2021, selected and edited by him.

Dr Jayasingh has received a flurry of literary awards, including Vishub "Jhankar", Bhanuiji Rao Kavita Puraskar, besides Utkal Sahitya Samaj Samman and Odisha Sahitya Akademi award for his book Ferranti Ghar in 2016.

A NARCISSIST KING

Bipin Patsani

And Bodhisattva smiled.

Bodhisattva had come through many a ‘Yoni’

and once born a Holy Ape,

had helped his whole clan cross

a wide stream jumping through his back

while he hung himself like a bridge

joining two trees across a gurge.

Bodhisattva smiled an enigmatic smile

when he saw an arrogant uncultured Banar Raj

beating his chest so ungracefully in the Assembly,

betting his opponents that he alone is enough

to counter all his enemies, he himself is stronger

than all his opponents taken together.

The King’s clumsy clan cheered at the jibe

of its Supremo in blind devotion and applause,

mistaking it to be a masterstroke,

strange sensations as it could evoke.

All questions, all charges of divisive nature

social unrest, growing intolerance

and atrocities in the realm,

the waning economy, favoritism,

unemployment, price rise,

the public discontent and concern

all submerged in their pandemonium,

the system so highly acclaimed as sound,

gone waste, all gone waste under pressure,

the parliament of the wild made mute

beneath the suppressing spell of

what they all smelt to be absolute.

The king who talked and talked

and never listened to anybody,

never answered a question

and despised rather to be interrogated,

loved himself so much that he enjoyed

being projected as a poster boy

every time he made his appearance in style,

every time he did a little favour

to a few in his appeasing political wile.

Bodhisattva smiled and moved away

thinking of human frailty,

the fate of Ozymandias, Hitler

and what Zarathustra did say

while far on the horizon appeared a ray.

THE WONDERS OF MOVEMENT

Bipin Patsani

Sometimes lovely lines

come on their own

in their simplest form

when I am at work,

when I ride a rickshaw,

bus or train

and as the wheels move on,

they move me as well.

I keep the lines as they are

and don’t kill their innocent joy,

don’t lesson,

don’t weaken the pain,

nor do I make them heavy

with my intellectual woe

or philosophical strain.

JUDGMENT

Bipin Patsani

Judgment managed by any source,

by way of pressure,

threat or allurements

is not justice at all.

It is a pretentious weapon

to silence dissenting voice

in the name of law's own course.

Bipin Patsani (b. 1951) has published poems in many prestigious journals and poetry anthologies including Indian Literature, Chandrabhaga, Journal of Indian Writing in English, Indian Scholar, Kavya Bharati, Poetcrit, International Poetry and Prophetic Voices etc. He has been translated to Spanish and Portuguese. He has three poetry collections to his credit (VOICE OF THE VALLEY, ANOTHER VOYAGE and HOMECOMING). He is a recipient of Michael Madhusudan Academy Award/ 1996 and Rock Pebbles National Award in 2018. He did his Post Graduation in English at Ravenshaw College, Cuttack in 1975 and served as a teacher in Arunachal Pradesh for 34 years till his superannuation in 2012. He also received Arunachal Pradesh State Government’s Award in 2002 for his dedicated service as a teacher. He lives with his family at Barunei Colony, Badatota in Khordha District of Odisha, India.

DECIDUOUS

Soumen Roy

Undraped deciduous tree

in vernal glow

Sings the last fall in a

bridal glow

Song of an oasis on the

lustrous lips

Threnody notes sways the

sweetest melodies

Light of a candle quenching

the dark

Confession of a sinner in a

catholic church

Perennial green in the lyrics

of a river

Undying flow from the heart of

a glacier

Overwhelming cajole flattering

sugar

Hail to the fall, says the

evergreen attire

Soumen Roy is a professional writer, best selling author and a tri-lingual poet. He has been vasty anthologized. His novel and poetry books have been part of International Kolkata Book Fair as well as Newtown book fair. He is the receiptent of Laureate Award 2022 along with many others. His poetry has been a part of international poetry festival 2017 and Panaroma international Literature festival 2023. He has published in different newspapers, magazines and web portals. He has been part of a web series named Showstopperzz, a cinema for a cause. He loves photography, painting and music.

POSSESS IT

Krishna Tulasi

Critical stage, critical year, don't waste your time

Pressure, stress, and mental blocks too

In deep agony and demotivated state, I ask it

"Why do I need to go through this?"

It is nothing, but a mere dream

A dream which can build or break my life

All depends on my efforts this year

Despite this, did I drop my dreams?

When the stars shine, that night when I'm in my dreams

All the aspirants' marks, my inner mind screams

"Why do you be dark, when the whole world's asleep?"

Even if it's in my imagination, it's very deep

That one line was more than enough

I dropped all the laziness aside

That one line decided my future

And I can proudly say, I achieved it

Book Review

TOSHALI 2023: ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY review by Gopa Nayak

edited by Pradeep Kumar Biswal

A rare anthology of poems Toshali 2023 is home to poems on varied themes by poets from equally divergent groups. As one ventures out to make sense of the 96 odd poems across the spectrum one is inundated with the flooding of thoughts from ‘Chunda’ to ‘cathedral’, from ‘dreams’ to ‘maya’ among others. A serious reader perhaps would be left pining for an organized text either along themes or any other viable category such as age, gender, translation among others. This anthology on the other hand, takes the poet’s given names as the first point of reference in organizing the content pages. Poetry, is perhaps a genre of written text where alphabetical organization along given names serves no purpose to the reader although it can make the job of the editors much easier and make the writers feel that there has been no discrimination. While the poets who not so famous can take pride in contributing to this publication, veteran poets such as Jayanta Mahapatra add excellence with their expressive words and others like me make an attempt to climb up the ladder and still others revel in the opportunity to maintain their momentum in poetry writing. The anthology thus makes an attempt to encourage many to hang out the renderings of their hearts in black and white. And this is no mean feat. Hence, the silver lining of this anthology, is perhaps the democratic fervor, the hallmark of Odisha as reflected in the Jaganath culture of meting out equal space to all, irrespective of their status, in the literary world.

Sunil Sharma’s words ‘Vibrant spaces, a blank canvas’ as if spells out the ambition of Toshali Literature Festival as the Anthology creates a vibrant space and opens it up like a blank canvas for poets to fill it with their colourful thoughts. And what a picturesque maze has been created. Much deserved credit due to the editors. Their optimism spelt out in their own words ‘manifestation of humanity’ by Ajit Das and ‘I surrender to the infinity’ by Pradeep Biswal, glorify the mission of the Anthology.

‘Future’ by Aneek Chatterji, ‘Blank page’ by Anjali Sahoo, ‘Arrival’ by Amit Shankar Saha - all reminding the readers of the optimism of life and fragility of time and as survivors of the tragic pandemic to sing the glory of life and its glue love. ‘Amazing Evolution’ by Akshaya Kumar Das, ‘Rain now and then’ by Anadi Charan Pradhan, ‘Present- Trench –Future’ by Agnivesh Mahapatra further accentuate the message of hope that the Anthology has rejuvenated in a post-pandemic world. ‘Let poems be simple’ by Makhan Kalita and translated by Dr Gogoi jots down all the contents that this review aims to touch upon and in his words – ‘all that is simple and touches the heart’.

Jayanta Mahapatra’s magical words ‘the logic of winning or the magic of living’ in his poem ‘Playing with the Magician’ elevates the anthology to the level of a book of poems par excellence. The lines –

‘But the world is there, beginning to speak again,

And I’ve lost the ability to disappear.

Looks as if with all its silvery light

the world cannot touch me

with its last sentence, bold, sinless.

Poet Jenamani in her words ‘Asking for an answer an exercise in futility’ follows the traditional course of poetic seeking while Nandini Sahu’s ‘Manthan’ focuses on love and as ‘the secret to shine bright’ and the beloved as the ‘agenda of the light’. My own poem ‘Maya’ dwells on the common manifestations of love which perhaps cannot be denounced as ‘maya’ or ‘pretentions’. Bina Singh’s poem again on the same theme of love in her poem ‘May Flower’ presents love as the universal ethos of humanity while ‘Love is just such a cut on a finger’ by

Mandakini Bhattacharjee perhaps highlights the pain of love and yet normalizes it.

The translated Telugu poem – ‘Only after getting wounded’ is a pleasure to read with the first line – ‘I want to remain unhurt’ and the last line ‘I reach home only after getting wounded’ wrapping up the essence of life and its relentless fights. ‘A distant dream’ by Namita Rani Panda depicts a different kind of optimism. ‘Dream and how to make it memorable’ focuses on the struggles in the journey from birth to death and makes up the two poems of Braja K. Sorkar. ‘Depressing fold of time’ to ‘mind’s long hibernation’ in the poem of Bhaskaranand Jha are metaphoric yet true of the times gone by. ‘Aren’t we all wandering in time’ by Nisha Luthra sums up the illusion, the seeking and the answering of poetic justice in life.

While the opening poem with the line ‘relishing the cuddles of winter’ of Adyasha Priyadarshini kind of sets the tone for an exciting read, the concluding lines of the Anthology in the poem of Urna Ghosh titled “What No One Told Me” with the words ‘that the things you once loved so dearly, you can start hating too’- aptly summarizes the philosophy of life and literature that Toshali Literature sets out to celebrate. Let the Anthology infuse the readers with the right balance of love and hate in order to sustain the celebration and the excellence in the publication of such anthologies for times to come.

Last but the least, Toshali Literature Festival draws its name from an ancient city in Kalinga or present day Odisha. This glorious place has been witness to Buddha and his teachings and to Emperor Ashoka’s transformation as the messenger of peace. Hope and pray that the poetic journey of Toshali Literature blends in intellectualism with spiritualism that has been the glory of the land, that is, Toshali!

Gopa Nayak is a bilingual poet who writes in English and Odia, her mother tongue. Born and brought up in Odisha, Gopa finished her education at the University of Oxford with a PhD in English Language Teaching.

Article

Literary Vibes - Edition CXXVIII (28-Apr-2023) - POEMS

Table of Contents :: POEMS

Table of Contents :: BOOK REVIEW

Table of Contents :: SHORT STORIES & ANECDOTES

Table of Contents :: YOUNG MAGIC

Book Review

Viewers Comments

Leave a Reply

Literary Vibes - Edition CXL (26-Apr-2024) - POEMS

Literary Vibes - Edition CXL (26-Apr-2024) - SHORT STORIES & ANECDOTES

Literary Vibes - Edition CXL (26-Apr-2024) - YOUNG MAGIC

THIS CAN HAPPEN: VOLUME XXX & XXXI

Literary Vibes - Edition CXXXIX (29-Mar-2024 - POEMS

Literary Vibes - Edition CXL (26-Apr-2024) - POEMS

Literary Vibes - Edition CXL (26-Apr-2024) - SHORT STORIES & ANECDOTES