Literary Vibes - Edition CXXXVIII (23-Feb-2024) - POEMS
Title : Friends Forever (Picture courtesy Ms. Latha Prem Sakya)
An acclaimed Painter, a published poet, a self-styled green woman passionately planting fruit trees, a published translator, and a former Professor, Lathaprem Sakhya, was born to Tamil parents settled in Kerala. Widely anthologized, she is a regular contributor of poems, short stories and paintings to several e-magazines and print books. Recently published anthologies in which her stories have come out are Ether Ore, Cocoon Stories, and He She It: The Grammar of Marriage. She is a member of the executive board of Aksharasthree the Literary Woman and editor of the e - magazines - Aksharasthree and Science Shore. She is also a vibrant participant in 5 Poetry groups. Aksharasthree - The Literary Woman, Literary Vibes, India Poetry Circle and New Voices and Poetry Chain. Her poetry books are Memory Rain, 2008, Nature At My Doorstep, 2011 and Vernal Strokes, 2015. She has done two translations of novels from Malayalam to English, Kunjathol 2022, (A translation of Shanthini Tom's Kunjathol) and Rabboni 2023 ( a Translation of Rosy Thampy's Malayalam novel Rabboni) and currently she is busy with two more projects.
Dear Readers,
It is with great pleasure I present to you the 138th edition of LiteraryVibes. It comes adorned with more than fifty beautiful poems and around thirty short stories and anecdotes. Hope you will like them and forward them to your friends.
We are lucky to have four new contributors this time. Ms. Bhairavi Gadade is a young, vibrant poet from Mumbai who writes powerful, expressive poems. Dr. Jaydeep Sarangi, a prolific poet and writer from Kolkata, is a great celebrity in Bengali literature. Ms. Usha Surya from Chennai is another seasoned writer with more than fifteen books to her credit. Dr. Nanda Kishore Biswal from Bhubaneswar is a well-known poet and writer who has a powerful presence in Odia literature. Let us welcome these new poets and writers to the LV family and wish them fabulous success in their literary career.
February is the month of Valentine's Day. Love is in the air, like the enchanting fragrance of the Spring Season, when everything comes alive. One feels it in the bones, a new sensation of expansive sweetness, eager to share it with the loved ones. I often wonder what is the magic content of love which rules life? I am sure, dear readers, you would have felt love in different ways. From my limited experience, I can say love is a feeling of togetherness, when one yearns to be with the beloved all the time, and feels her or his presence in the heart, mind and soul in every waking hour. Love is sharing joy. It is also caring for each other, making sure nothing one does will hurt the feeling of the loved one. And above everything, it is respect for the loved one as a person.
I am afraid I sound too prosaic in my description of love. Throughout the history of literature poets and writers have poured liquid emotions in lyrical splendour to describe this unique feeling that holds the world together. Over the years whenever I have thought of love I have remembered two songs from the film Shola Aur Shabnam, penned by the legendary poet Kaifi Azmi - one is a celebration of being united in love and the other is of intense, heart-breaking love depicted through the pangs of separation. They are in Hindi. I tried to translate them into English but the translation sounded too prosaic and inane, so I gave up. If any of you can do justice to the translation, please do that and send to me, I will publish them in next month's LV. But I invite you to feel the following two songs in your heart to realise what love means:
THE SONG OF BEING IN LOVE
Jeetey hi lenge baazi hum tum,
khel adhura chhute naa
Pyaar ka bandhan, janam ka bandhan,
janam ka bandhan toote naa...
Miltaa hai jahan dharti se gagan,
aao wahi hum jaaye
Tu mere liye, main tere liye
Is duniya ko thhukraayein -
Is duniya ko thukaraayein
Door basaa le dil ki jannat -
Jis ko Jamanaa looteyna
Pyaar ka bandhan, janam ka bandhan,
janam ka bandhan toote na......
Milne ki khushi na milne ka ghum,
Khatme jhagde ho jaaye
Tu merry liye, mein terey liye
Isi duniyako thukurayen,
Isi duniyako thukurayren,
Mein bhi naa chhodun palbhar daman
Tu bhi palbhar rutheyna
Pyaar ka bandhan, janam ka bandhan,
janam ka bandhan toote na...
Jeetey hi lenge baazi hum tum,
khel adhura chhute na
Pyaar ka bandhan, janam ka bandhan,
janam ka bandhan toote na.…..
LOVE THROUGH PANGS OF SEPARATION
Jaane kya dhundti rahati
Hai ye aankhe mujhame
Raakh ke dher me shola
Hai na chingaari hai
Jaane kya dhundti rahati
Hai ye aankhe mujhame
Raakh ke dher me
Shola hai na chingaari hai
Ab na wo pyaar na
Usaki yaade baki
Aag yun dil me lagi kuchh
Na rahaa kuchh na bachaa
Jisaki tasvir nigaaho
Me liye baithi ho
Mai wo diladaar nahi
Uski hun khaamosh chitaa
Jaane kya dhundti rahati
Hai ye aankhe mujhame
Raakh ke dher me shola
Hai na chingaari hai
Zindagi hans ke guzarjaati
To bahut achchhaa tha
Khair hans ke na sahi
Ro ke guzar jaayegi
Raakh barabaad mohabbat
Ki bachaa rakhi hai
Baar baar isko jo
Chheda to bikhar jaayegi
Jaane kya dhundti
Rahati hai ye aankhe mujhame
Raakh ke dher me
Shola hai na chingaari hai
Aarazu jurm wafa jurm
Tamanna hai gunaah
Ye wo duniya hai jaahaan
Pyaar nahi ho sakata
Kaise baazaar kaa
Dastur tumhe samajhaun
Bik gaya jo wo
Kharidar nahi ho sakata
Bik gaya jo wo
Kharidar nahi ho sakata.
Jaane kya dhundti rahati
Hai ye aankhe mujhame
Raakh ke dher me shola
Hai na chingaari hai
In the film, of course, the lovers unite at the end, despite the above expression of intense melancholy. The adage that Love always Triumphs has always been celebrated as an universal truth. Let me leave you here to mull over this, as we bid goodbye to the love month of February and step into March, the in-between month between spring and summer.
Please forward the following links to your friends and contacts, to spread the love of literature:
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/532 (Poems)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/531 (Short Stories and Anecdotes)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/530 (Young Magic)
There are two medical related articles by the prolific gynaecologist Dr. Gangadhar Sahoo at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/529
A happy reminder that 12 excellent ahort stories published in the Pooja Special of LiteraryVibes can be found at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/507
Hope you remember that all the 138 editions of LiteraryVibes can be accessed at https://positivevibes.today/literaryvibes
Looking forward to your feedback in the Comments Box located at the bottom of the respective LV pages.
Have a nice time, stay happy. We will meet again with the 139th edition of LiteraryVibes on 29th March.
With warm regards,
Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Editor, LiteraryVibes
Friday, February 23, 2024
Table of Contents :: POEMS
01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
LOVE: UNFETTERED IN DEATH
02) Haraprasad Das
MAKING LOVE (SHRUNGAARA)
03) Dilip Mohapatra
DEEPFAKE
04) Raju Samal
A POEM FOR THE TREE
4 SHORT POEMS
05) Bhairavi Gadade
A SOUL THAT NEVER CRIES.
MOUNTAINS ARE LIKE..
06) Jaydeep Sarangi
CHANDRABHAGA for Jayanta Mahapatra ( 1928-2023)
RAINS IN MY GARDEN OF DREAMS
HOUSE OF POETRY
07) Dr. Nanda K. Biswal
STAMMER IS AN APOSIOPESIS
08) Sreeja Sree
HAND IN HAND WITH MY FATE
09) Abani Udgata
HARBOUR: A VILLAGE DEITY
10) Jay Jagdev
RENDEZVOUS
NEWU
A BIRTHDAY EVENING
‘PALASA’: THE SILENT WITNESS
11) Ajay Upadhyaya
TWISTED LOVE
12) Dr R.S. Tewari Shikhresh
WITH YOUR OWN KEY
LIKE A HAWK....
ALAS ! THEY DESCEND....
FORGIVENESS
AS THE LYSSA
13) Ravi Ranganathan
DOES THE DRIZZLE KNOW
14) Bichitra K Behura
MY TRUE IDENTITY
15) Meera Rao
BLACK SPOT IN A WHITE CIRCLE
16) Sneha Prava Das
SEA-SHORE ROMANCE
17) Setaluri Padmavathi
WORDS SAY WHO YOU ARE!
18) Sudipta Mishra
CAR FESTIVAL IN PURI
19) Sujata Dash
MESS
MUSINGS OF LOVE
20) Sheena Rath
DRENCHED IN YELLOW
21) Mayuri R. Ghorpade
WINTER LOVE STORY
22) Bhagaban Jayasingh
KALIDAS IN THE ENCIRCLING NET OF MAYA
23) Runu Mohanty
INVOCATION (Nimantrana)
24) Dr(Col) Rekha Mohanty
LOVE : THE BEST ANCHOR
25) Annamalai M
CROTCHET OF LOVE
26) Seethaa Sethuraman
WHERE ARE YOU MOMMY?
27) Bipin Patsani
FUSION
STRANGE WAYS
28) Anindita Bose
ILLUSION
29) Arpita Priyadarsini
A MIGRATION
30) Leena Thampi
TIME CHANGES BUT MEMORIES DON'T
31) Ms Gargi Saha
SOLILOQUY
RIVER
COLORS
HEALING
BAMBOOZLED
INTROSPECTION
32) Ajit Dash
COFFEE AND YOU
33) Soumen Roy
DIVINE LIGHT
SEASON
34) Nandini Mitra
THIS WEARIED HEART NEEDS LOVE
BUT I'LL LOVE YOU FOR BETTER
35) Professor Niranjan Barik
ANOTHER BUDHA, A WHISTLE BLOWER!
36) Anjali Sahoo
EARTH’S ALARM
37) Bijayalaxmi Rath
LOVE IS IN BLOOM
38) Rani Sunil
THE CORNER WEB
39) Manjula Asthana Mahanti
RITU RAJ
40) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
MEMORIES OF LOSS
Table of Contents :: SHORT STORIES & ANECDOTES
01) Prabhanjan K Mishra
THE SPLIT
02) Sreekumar Ezhuththaani
WINDOW DRESSING
03) Ishwar Pati
FRENCH DIRECTION
04) Snehaprava Das
ALWAYS YOURS
05) Usha Surya.
A SUNDAY MORNING
06) Meena Mishra
A TALE OF SURPRISES AND REDEMPTION
07) Lathaprem Sakhya
MYSTERIOUS LOVE
08) Hema Ravi
BITTER-SWEET
09) Sukumaran C.V.
THINGS FALL APART
10) Sreekumar T V
TALKING TO GOD
11) Sheena Rath
HUSHKOO
12) Sujata Dash
ON A VISTARA FLIGHT
13) Sukanti Mohapatra
GARDEN ANGEL
14) Gourang Charan Roul
IN SEARCH 0F HAPPINESS
15) Bankim Chandra Tola
INGRATITUDE
16) Ashok Kumar Mishra
A DUGWELL ON HILLTOP
17) Meera Rao
SENIORS AND VALENTINE'S DAY
18) Satish Pashine
HUNGER, LOVE AND RESPECT!
19) Nitish Nivedan Barik
A LEAF FROM HISTORY: ABOUT AN ICONIC..
20) Sreechandra Banerjee
THE KING, THE BAKER, and THE PEOPLE.
RIG VEDA AND THE CONCEPT OF LOVE
WHAT IS VALENTINE’S DAY?
THE AUSPICIOUS DAY OF MAGHI PURNIMA.
GODDESS SARASWATI IN SOME OTHER COUNTRIES
GODDESS OF LEARNING GRACES BASANT PANCHOMI
21) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
A PRISONER OF DREAMS
A NIGHT OF ENDLESS GIGGLES
Table of Contents :: YOUNG MAGIC
01) Anura Parida
THE HAPPY MAN
02) Trishna Sahoo
LAST DAY OF CLASS VII
POEMS
Honey, my apologies,
couldn’t keep you in bed,
neighbours took up cudgels,
“She will stink like a dead rat”.
What cheek! What blasphemy!
Saw you placed on a pile of wood,
ghee and sandal oil poured on you;
helplessly had to set aflame your pyre.
Thank God, that freezing December night
might have brought you some comfort.
It is dawn, the east has
a fine streak of purplish red,
it resembles your parted lips,
all my poems fade
before that sublime grandeur.
The last smoke is coiling up
from the pile of ash where you huddled;
the cacophony of mourners
long gone silent, you keep me company
besides the dawn, silence, and chill.
A leafless tree mutely broods
looming low in grief,
the first crow hasn’t spoken,
cicadas keep tormenting my silence,
raising a crescendo.
The breeze is blowing the ash;
a sliver of hope, where your feet
were laid, invitingly smiles -
“Let us go for a walk, honey.
Give me a hand, though it’s late.”
Mounds of ash outlining your lovely tits
whisper to me, “Take us to bed.”
I squint down with tentative doubts,
“Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“Yes, if in no mood, just hold me close”.
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.
(Translated by Prabhanjan K. Mishra )
All entreaties
seem unwelcome
at her lips;
her eyes look distant.
Cold hail
pile up by her eye-rims.
But I hear the peahen
calling the king cobra.
The snake uncoils, rises,
in its cloistered den.
I follow it, and
enter her eager portal.
Inviting, opening up.
Taking her lissome form
in my besotted grip
I land in the pleasure park.
Disengaging from
the joy-ride,
I take an eyeful: she lies –
a languorous enigma.
As never before,
a drop of shimmering tear
shying away,
faltering and inarticulate.
Her few words,
archaic, but grand and primal,
like antiquated heirlooms:
Chhatra and Chaamar.
Cheeks dabbed
with a coy blush,
an expanse
of Haragouraas* in bloom!
No, none of my
poetic phrases
measure up to
her earthy grandeur.
(One of the poet’s best poems – offered here in tribute to the lovers celebrating Feb, 14, 2024)
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)”
In the digital abyss
where truth is blurred
lies a world of lies
where deep within the
deceptive pixels
the synthetic face
is etched with
the chisels
of virtual deceit
to proclaim the stolen
identity
a tapestry woven
with digital code
a mirage of reality
on falsehood’s road.
With every click
of the mouse
and every seamless edit
the lines are erased
between the
fact and fiction
and the magical wand
of the generative algorithms
creates the illusion
where trust is at stake
and truth
is butchered
on the altar of
the treacherous
deepfake…
But yet
we still have hopes
to expose
the hand of the evil
that draws
sustenance
from its insecurities
and excavate the veracity
from the labyrinth of
the lies…
… because for every shadow
there is a light.
We have to just
embrace the shadow
and we will eventually
find the light
which is its creator
as well as its
destroyer…
Dilip Mohapatra, a decorated Navy Veteran is a well acclaimed poet in contemporary English and his poems appear in many literary journals of repute and anthologies worldwide. He has seven poetry collections, one short story collection and two professional books to his credit. He is a regular contributor to Literary Vibes. He the recipient of multiple awards for his literary activities, which include the prestigious Honour Award for complete work under Naji Naaman Literary Awards for 2020. He holds the honorary title of ‘Member of Maison Naaman pour la Culture’. He lives in Pune and his email id is dilipmohapatra@gmail.com
Neither you ask for a blanket
in winter’s biting cold
nor you desire for a cooler
in the hottest of summer
even in rains
you are without an umbrella
In fruit bearing autumn
how lovingly you allow
all your fruits to be taken away
After my birth you had come
as my cradle
to bring me up from infancy
now in my old age
you are my walking stick
to help me walk on my infirm steps
On the day of my final depart
no doubt my dearest ones will cry a lot
but quietly you will come
to my cremation as ritual wood
and be burnt with me in my funeral pyre
If I wish to be buried after my death
I know
you will come as my coffin to my grave
and hold me in your loving embrace
till endless time ends.
Cultivated
in the sky
harvested
on earth
POWER CUT
Raju Samal
Darkness
connecting
man
to the moon
PAINTINGS
Raju Samal
Art galleries
exhibit colors
spilled from confused minds
visitors admire
and call them modern art
LAWYERS
Raju Samal
People
educated
to play
hide and seek
with truth
Raju Samal is an international award winning poet. He writes both in Oriya and English. He is M.A.in English Literature from Ravenshaw College. He has five volumes of poetry in Oriya and four volumes in English. He is a visiting Faculty to Mumbai University. He retired as General Manager from The New India assurance Company . Mob.no.9029970144 ,email rajusamal007@yahoo.co.in
A soul that never cries.
No matter what happens,
she gulps the pains and whines.
Siting on the balcony gazing at the skies,
Having looked at the birds and thinking of again flying high.
She tried but still she didn't feel enough to shine,
Willing to give up, but she tries.
Even when everything was wrong,
she started explaining to herself that everything is alright.
But they say, in the darkness the light shines ever bright,
Just like that, I've built a soul that never cries :)
Mountains are like green treasures
Pouring showers on us,
Mountains are like elderly generous
Will always be there in disguise,
Mountains are like unachievable success
Once reach top but whole world at foot.
Bhairavi Gadade, a student - writer, currently pursuing her studies from one of the finest institutes in Mumbai as of 2024-25. Her passion for writing began since 13 years of her age. Over being guided under the well - known educational organisation she recognised her passion towards writing. Since 2021, many of her poems & articles got published on various web portal. She believes that the best art imitates life, especially when viewed through a wider lens.
CHANDRABHAGA for Jayanta Mahapatra ( 1928-2023)
My hands are folded in front of a door at Tinkonia
surrounded by endless books and shadows
before the wearying memories of words.
I leave the twilight of metaphors behind
passing through a rain of rites
with slow soundless night at Cuttack.
Life’s random musing is never silent, Kalidasa to Jayanta
the substance stirs my grandfather
hanging over an ancient city of temples and forts.
As a the long shadow falls I ask for words
out of hunger or summer thoughts
looking out for some drops of holy water
My brown flesh is a missing person
with bare faces in relationships elsewhere
lying down with wounds leaking blood and poems.
This evening , I 'm beside the chariot and a lion sitting,
counting shadow spaces at pyres burning at Sargadwar
without talking to it, my random descent begins.
Life signs are bare white bones, leaf by leaf.
Village girls weep somewhere in the woods of silence
A loving soul remembers how things passed.
I hold you firm, if I ever lose your doors of paper
How can I ask Chandrabhaga to rewrite chapters of history from an old book?
July. It arrived late last night
Something is yet to come.
Something seems to get lost, again
In the quiet half darkness.
I struggle to keep my good spirit
As my erratic watch lingers.
I sticks to my hands to possess rain drops
Looking out the old window
In rain every small sound defines
A hermits' early morning chants.
I see you in the night's loneliness
My world acquires a pillow
You begin with the same tone
Between skin and skin, memories
In a gesture of resignation
Like a small baby, the heart unfolds its mysteries.
My blood moves, within me
Rains in my heart, verdant green
House of poetry has many doors,
windows are wide open to the sky
Its floors are slabs of fire, colourful
stone pebbles lead the garden path
of thoughts and desires, connecting
the movement within with the agonies
of the world, parliaments of nations.
Happy flowers are bedrooms
where images court, sing their hearts out
nearby river is the soul, forefathers
are still awake with desire for water, poems.
Jaydeep Sarangi is a widely anthologized poet with ten collections, latest being, Memories of Words(2023). A regular reviewer for poetry journals and newspapers, Sarangi has delivered keynote addresses and read poems in different continents and lectured on poetry and marginal studies in universities/colleges of repute. His books on poetry and Indian Writings, articles and poems are archived in all major libraries and online restores in the world, including Harvard University, Oxford University, Sorbonne University, Barkley Library and University of Chicago. He is the President, Guild of Indian English Writers, Editors and Critics (GIEWEC) and Vice President, EC, Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library,Kolkata. He has been known as ‘the bard of Dulung’ for his poems on the rivulet Dulung and people who reside on its banks. Sarangi is Principal and professor of English at New Alipore College, Kolkata and actively spreading the wings of poetry among generations. He edits Teesta, a journal devoted poetry and poetry criticism. With Rob Harle he has edited six anthologies of poems from Australia and India which are a great literary link between the nations. . With Amelia Walker, he has guest edited a special issue for TEXT, Australia. His E mail: jaydeepsarangi1@gmail.com
Stammer is not any physical “lack”
let alone a congential defect.
Stammer is hardly a speech impediment
that causes articulation errors.
Not many know it as a mode of speech,
the time gap between a word and its meaning;
a brief hiatus with connectors like “well”, “I mean”, “let’s say”, etc.
It’s no wonder to know that
it’s an aposiopesis: a worthy progenitor of language that beautifies.
A stammer is more than
what meets the eye:
a pregnant pause:
liberating, autogenerative, selfpropelling; it heralds a new dawn
in poetry.
God stammered
and human peace remained at stake; let loose
only conditionally
lest humankind forget Him for ever,
Ingratitude throwing weight everywhere.
Men teamed up and got into a conspiracy
to destabilise Him.
They were halfway through building the tower of Babel.
He stammered,
a barrier of communication was erected;
their plans went awry.
The poetry of His commands flowed smoothly.
Dr. Nanda K Biswal is passionate in reading poetry & intermittently have been writing poetry since his college days.1996 to1999 was the most fertile period for him when my Odia poems were published in almost all Odia dailies as well as in most of the Odia magazines. Also he write English poems and have authored 'The Fictional Transfiguration of History in the Novels of Salman Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh and Rohinton Mistry '. Besides, He has edited ' Prananath Patnaik: A purveyor of Egalitarianism'. Currently, He is engaged in writing reviews of the poetry books of the new poets who write in English.
(Translated by Sreekumar Ezhuththaani)
When I look back and see
How far I have come
How long I have walked
Paths paved with
Shreds of glass and debris
From my shattered glass house
Should I go on
I negotiated
But looking back
I see only pitch darkness
Lit here and there with
Sparks of memories
Sweet, bitter, sour
So here I stand
Hand in hand with my fate
No need for companions
No need for enemies
Fate is sweet enough
Fate is cruel enough
Mrs. Sreeja Sree from Kattuppara, a village in Malappuram, Kerala, India, is a multi-talented mother. She writes, composes, sings, illustrates, and makes her living as a dance teacher at her own dance school, after teaching herself classical dance forms like Bharatanatyam which is almost impossible to learn on one's own.
Below the ancient banyan tree
flanked by two deodars like
a palm joined in a namaste
the terracotta eyes soak in
the boundless blues.
Frozen snarl on the face of the lion
defies the ebb and flow.
Faith like petals of hibiscus
swirls in brisk wind incessantly.
The dying rays of evening
suffuse the humble cottages
a little beyond in pilgrim hues.
The churning of day and night
tears and sweat, hope and despair
rock the dwellings in constant flux.
The cottages are small canoes
floating in a restless lake, seeking
their way to the harbour below
the banyan tree.
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
You came as promised with desire weakening your fear,
Checking if someone was behind, from the world you held dear.
You talked of him as the day changed its hue,
Of your hopes and the things that had eluded you.
You gave your body and waited for the passage of time,
But inside your heart and mind he was there, not me.
You left me groping in the dark, but I chose to stay on,
As you had promised that someday you would come alone.
Today you walked in with the moon rising,
Set behind your face glowing.
You, a total stranger, as if seeing you for the first time,
Epitome of love, the most valued of my secret being.
Was that moment called love,
which I so abhorred?
That act of falling into that bottomless pit,
From which a very few have recovered.
I knew you for years, your heart, mind,
fears, and desires of every hue.
Why did you today seem so different,
Making me desire to meld my life within you?
My mind knows that nothing has changed,
But my heart is savouring what’s new.
Is it the new me,
or renewed you?
Frozen nervously in the moments smiled,
As I talked, I weaned, but my mind remained fixed.
When I treaded the world unknown,
the sun had sunk since long,
As the redness of the ‘Palasa’ spread over us,
the streetlights chose to veil in the shyness.
Smiling and saying the shameless crescent moon,
Open thy eyes andfind a moonless night soon.
Leafless trees and dusty paths baking in the March Sun,
Came the unwarned Cloud and covered them all.
Sun gave in and surrendered his might,
Mellowing the Sun, Cloud smiled.
Beheld ‘Palasa’ from the wayside hedge,
With the rouge of the Sun and swaying in the breeze.
Full of color without any scent,
Asked the Sun and the Cloud to take the hint.
The Sun is fixed, Cloud ephemeral,
The chasm is there and the danger real.
There can only be present and no future,
And at the end lies guilt, hurt and a mighty furore.
Their eyes saw it but their hearts ignored,
Their minds were free, and their hearts unshackled.
The Sun and the Cloud the Cloud and the Sun,
Shed their fear while treading the path well known.
Jay Jagdev is an entrepreneur, academic and author. He is a popular blogger and an essayist. His foray into poetry is new. His essays are regularly published in Odishabytes and his poems on life and relationships have been featured in KabitaLive.
He is known for his work on sustainable development and policy implementation. As the President of the Udaygiri Foundation, he works to preserve and develop native language, literature, and heritage by improving its usage and consumption. More can be known about him on www.jpjagdev.com
Air buzzing with
Happy Valentine day
wishes
Lyrics of love
flowing freely.
It’s 14th February.
But what a
cruel coincidence!
It was the valentine day
five years ago,
when terrorists struck
our military,
killing far too many.
Is there no dearth of
hatred around?
Or, is it the darker face
of Love,
as we know it?
Love for a cause;
blinding as ever
but crazier than
a fleeting feeling.
However misguided
in its mission
and
deadly in its method!
Dr. Ajaya Upadhyaya from Hertfordshire, England, is a Retired Consultant Psychiatrist from the British National Health Service and Honorary Senior Lecturer in University College, London.
What life witnesses is certain
That takes place on this plane ,
Yet man is oft bewildered,
Owing to being unfiltered .
There is a silent sync between
Past and present layers
lean
That are, for sure, hardly recognised ,
For they are man made and devised .
Then what remains in human hand
Other than trusting in ethereal trend ,
Ever implemented ,seen or unseen ,
Howsoever is he clever and keen.
The secret lies in the deeds done
Pre-natively, presently or even undone .
Let's realise both do's and don'ts
In order to overcome all
haunts .
Life stands for treading and doing
Relentlessly, facing and fighting ,
Leaving no room for what ought to be ,
So as to open doors with your own key .
-
Let the mud of evil and vices be washed away
By continuous striving in each and every sway .
Matters little what role and position you are assigned,
Your presence be marked
with the goal underlined.
Let there be a sync between heart and mind,
So as to design a new cassette and rewind.
Gone is gone ,done is done ,yet doors are not closed ,
Waiting your entry to water the creepers lying paralysed.
Flow like a river and and be not the ocean ,
Go and go on your path like a skilled artisan .
Open your eyes within and also see on the ground
The pits and falls like a
hawk preying all around.
Fight out the hurdles of the path
With patience and potential without wrath .
Let deeds be done,yielded or not ,be a lesson for future ,
Rise up with trust in Him to accomplish and nurture .
One can measure between the earth and the sky ,
A herculean task is to crack their nut of a human lie .
There are layers within layers in a human conduct,
Who like the teeth of an elephant will use the dormant duct .
The more so called civilized the deeper conceit
With new guiles and goals , one will cheat .
Truly, is this the irony of the day and evolutionary era,
Engrossed are they with intents to use,misuse and draw .
Alas! They descend from divine heights ,proving in- vain
The source and sublime origin ,they are sent to maintain .
Forgiveness is an attribute of higher stature
Than the revenge taken by any shining signature.
Humanity is such a humbled
hue of mankind
That has ev'r shaded the cassette of love and rewind.
History unfolds the panorama of human hymns ,
That bridged up gulfs of bloodshed with rhymes.
Roaring revenge always makes new ranges of skies,
Where shrieks of shrivelled
humanity, heard in echoing cries.
Slumber has gone away,
Thrown are toys of clay ,
Their shrieks go unheard ,
And hunger to be stared .
Exactly, it is not known
How to own or disown ?
It seems to be a rumpus
Of mere their plus- minus.
How to deal with and entertain
All that is undue and uncertain ,
Making the blood frozen,
Turning everyone sullen.
Here lies the frivolity and fright
That snatches away all the might
From head and heart of humanity,
As if Lyssa had doomed adversity.
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.
Does the drizzle know what it means
To soak in a delirious downpour?
To cloak itself from deluge?
It might at best cleanse obscure pebbles
And give them a chance to resurrect
Or form lens showing veins
Of leaves opaquely covered by mud.
It might even scatter on earth
To unburden a passing dark cloud!
Does the drizzle know what it means
To provoke a deeply dazzling lightning?
To yoke the space with a blinding force?
It might at best form micro pools
For kids to ply their favourite paper boats
And revel in innocent indulgence.
Or create ripples in receding lakes
Languishing in their peace less slumber,
Rouse them from their saturated sleep.
Of what use is a passing smile
If not skewed to a deep bondage
Of what use a drizzle if not preluded
To a thunderous rain unsubdued!...
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.
Let’s deviate
Forget the routine,
Scratch something new
In the mind,
Wait for a minute
Before it influences our thinking.
Look, the sky is no more blue,
Clouds are colorful and few
Stars are twinkling
During daytime,
Rivers are flowing upside down,
Forests are wild,
But quite sublime.
The sea is quiet,
Waves are inhibited
And unusually silent,
There is no storm in the desert
Except the cold gentle breeze
Giving relief and comfort
To my broken ribs.
I stand still
Without any motive,
Uninterested to do anything.
Divine grace pours in from all sides,
I open my heart and soul,
To receive the blessings.
I possess nothing inside
Hence, nothing to give
Except little love and warmth
Inculcated through your grace.
Proud to have deviated from routine,
It makes me so much happy
To be different,
Nothing to match the pleasure
I get finding my true identity.
Dr. Bichitra Kumar Behura, is an Engineer from BITS, Pilani and has done his MBA and PhD in Marketing. He writes both in Odia and English. He has published three books on collection of English poems titled “The Mystic in the Land of Love” , “The Mystic is in Love” and “The Mystic’s Mysterious World of Love” and a non-fiction “Walking with Baba, the Mystic”. He has also published three books on collection of Odia Poems titled “ Ananta Sparsa”, “Lagna Deha” and “Nirab Pathika”. Dr Behura welcomes feedback @ bkbehura@gmail.com. One can visit him at bichitrabehura.org
I 'admire 'the consistency of some
Who never feel undone
Trying to pick holes
Even in blemishess poles
Just to get sadistic pleasure
In abundant measure
Feel triumphant
Like a hero of a block buster
lOOKING DOWN from a giant size poster
Ignorant to think they can hide their sadistic nature
And FOOL PEOPLE For EVER !
N. Meera Raghavendra Rao , M.A.in English literature is a freelance journalist, author of 10 books(fiction, nonfiction) a blogger and photographer .Her 11th. is a collection of 50 verses titled PINGING PANGS published in August 2020. She travelled widely within and outside the country.She blogs at :justlies.wordpress.com.
Under a smoggy moon of late winter
The shore busily hawks out ancient romances
The mass of impassive casuarina take a brief break
From their swinging and turn to look, listen
Then look away and go back to swinging again
The same dull tales of promises made, they guess,
Kept in death or broken in life
The casuarinas know all about them
They know all about too
Of the evenings of hot, passionate coffee
And the days of the plaintive dregs under the spent, brown liquid,
Love is a sea, unfathomable, secret
She used to say
He, listens, rapt, entranced
His unblinking gaze glued to the waves
Some other time it is just the other way
May be centuries since that day,
'Tell me a tale of love,' I say
'The shore has all of them in display
Choose one,' you suggest
And take a sip of the coffee
'It has gone cold,' I again say
'You are right, but tastes better
You say and hold the cup to your lips,
'They are all about us,' you say
'the romances the shore sells,'
'Us and all of them,' I say
'Old but not gone stale,
The casuarinas have grown old may be, for the she-shore tales:
I say and take the cup from you,
Touched with your lips
The coffee still tastes fresh amd new;
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)
Inspirational, powerful, and painful
Every time you utter, you express,
You express your mind and heart
O dear, beware! Don’t hurt the heart,
Which is delicate, and breakable!
Speak your mind in the right way,
At the right time and at the right place
Let the people be influenced
But not harmed and pained
Words once spoken, can’t be reverted!
Speak in person about anything you wish
Express not negative views in public
Hurt not and worry not by any word
Speech brings an identity and fame
And shows inner beauty and nature!
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
Blue waves of the serene sea cover the entire town,
Puri looks bright with the luminous rays of the glorious sun,
Crowds of people assemble here to behold the divine morn,
The essence of oneness in Puri can be realized by everyone.
Devotees from the entire universe are tied by a sacred union
The unique cult of lord Jagannath is beyond their common vision
Yet they transcend into a state of trance in the car festival
With the Trinity and Sudarshan, they commence the journey of birth to death
In the Grand Road, salvation is attained by all
The celebration of the chariot festival even tempts millions of bright light
To descend on earth to partake in the revelry of pristine spirits
A throng of people merges in the transcendental flow toward eternity
With the same universal consciousness, they hold the strings of grand chariots
The Car Festival of Puri stands as a unique celebration of humanity.
By signaling a transition from finite to infinite, peace reigns in the holy city!
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.
When life is an untidy mess
its roots are matted and densely tangled
wimpy minced versions do rounds
truth is buried deep sans any trace
close eyes and take a deep breath
till courage resonates with authority
to stir sense and sensibilities
when life is beset with bumbling imperfections
leaves you stranded on a crossroad
earnest desires scout for a berth
you gape and nothing happens in favor
just sip an ounce of composure
take a cue from niceties of yore
to get set and traipse along
when your shoulder stoops
with the burden of uncalled for
you need a subtle caress and a gentle hug
to lift morale, fight yards of circumlocution
do nothing but feel the rhythm of soul
delve a bit deeper into life's ultimate purpose.
Dear delightful soul!
you are my heartbeat ,an amusing novelty
a surging sense of faith and belief
you are my sun painting the eastern sky
with radiance and sheen of beaten gold
my longing eyes and wistful reveries
look for you in every nook and corner
I blush in shades of pink
showcasing plethora of amazement
when you lavish me with generosity
under the vast blue yonder
In life's boomerang module, you are a departure
my constant source of inspiration and hope
be it crisp morning air crackled with excitement
or a moonlit and star studded zephyr
I remain besotted by your honesty and chivalry
carouse right through in musings of profound love.
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.
Sunlight filters through
Caressing soft colourful petals
Spreading mirth
On my cherubic cheeks
The smell the wind carries
As it meanders through the mustard fields
Sky aflame
A beautiful tapestry of vermillion, tangerine and the ultimate Yellow....Saffron.
Yellow..
Sheena Rath is a post graduate in Spanish Language from Jawaharlal Nehru University Delhi, later on a Scholarship went for higher studies to the University of Valladolid Spain. A mother of an Autistic boy, ran a Special School by the name La Casa for 11 years for Autistic and underprivileged children. La Casa now is an outreach centre for social causes(special children, underprivileged children and families, women's health and hygiene, cancer patients, save environment) and charity work.
Sheena has received 2 Awards for her work with Autistic children on Teachers Day. An Artist, a writer, a social worker, a linguist and a singer (not by profession)
It's the frost in my heart;
much longer than the thirst...
How should I convey you my feelings?
I become nostalgic about the winds chilling.
You dwell in my heart like the frozen snow
that takes longer to melt
& when frozen gives immense pain and guilt.
Let me whisper my frozen woo;
I never know when can I again see you.
Have waited longer for you
but you never knew.
You had been much desperate
to have me with you
and hence you continued to woo...
But I never knew
that one day you are gonna cheat
so badly leaving me in trauma
& facing abusing treats
that I never deserved;
Still had to gulp it for you
as my love was true
and never had wrong intentions like you...
Mrs. Mayuri R. Ghorpade.is working as an Asst. Teacher in junior college section of Lala Lajpatrai College of Commerce and Economics, Mahalaxmi. Mumbai. Her area of specialization is Language Learning and Teaching. She has been in the field of education since last 13 years. Writing is her passion and she is passionate about growing in the field of linguistics as well as literature in near future. Apart from her passion she loves to listen to music.
KALIDAS IN THE ENCIRCLING NET OF MAYA
Sometime, before the night
climbed down the ladder of dawn,
someone knocked on my door and called
in a harsh and sweet voice:
“Wake up Kalidas, wake...”
when my daughter clasped my hand
in utter, innocent terror.
Then, the stranger
hummed a different tune, his voice
sounded like a lizard's,
his wild breath frightening away
the wakeful birds in their nests.
I thought I could open the door
and in the pre-dawn candle light
stare intently into his face
touch the silence of his flesh
that hardly feels
the pains of our mortal frame!
Can he understand
the burden of man?
sufferings of the broken heart?
Does he know
why the seedlings wilt
without the sunlight of love?
What have I wished for in life?
Have I ever tried to embellish it
with rangani flowers of fulfillment
the priceless jewelry of joy
a pail of water from the lake of happiness?
I know this body is not me
This mind is not me
This breath is not me
The blood that safely traverses
my veins and arteries are not me.
Still, O stranger!
Please stop knocking on my door.
Don't you know I am Kalidas
I am still not ready to tear asunder the veil.
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.
(Translated by Prabhanjan K. Mishra)
You are welcome to enter;
no limits, no barriers.
The portals thrown-open.
Come and see the ruins
of this valley of love,
the greying lush meadows.
It seems the earth underwent quakes,
battles have been raged,
ravaging missiles been hurled at it.
grand structures grounded.
A green shoot not spared,
ruined are its past, present and future.
Carry a lamp to have an eyeful,
dispelling its pall of pitch dark.
Find the fallow terrain sprawling
bereft of blades of grass, or
remains of settlements; only heaps
of bleached bones, broken pots and pans.
I invoke you, beg you,
come as a refreshing shower,
bring a sprinkle of colours,
make me tipsy on your
mahua breath, go mad
in your moon’s milk.
Your advent would fill
my barren sky with star-bursts,
make the thirsty river overflow
the bereft twigs blossom green,
the birds break into songs
after their years of silence.
Step into my boudoir, sit
on my Nandighosha* bedecked
with fragrant basil, roam around
on my Airavata; ride my palanquin
under the shower of my petals.
I would hum hymns, lull you to sleep.
I would worship you
on my altar of love,
pouring empty both of my earthen pots,
lighting lamps of eyes; but do not enter
my territory like Kalapahada*, the ravager,
ushering in ruins to my tender hopes.
Footnote – Nandighosha* - the chariot of Lord Jagannath, Kalapahada* - the apostate invader who desecrated the sacred idol of Lord agannath. (The poem is from the poet’s Odia poetry collection ‘Baje Jhia’)
Runu Mohanty is a young voice in Odia literature, her poems dwell in a land of love, loss, longing, and pangs of separation; a meandering in this worldwide landscape carrying various nuances on her frail shoulders. She has published three collections of her poems; appeared in various reputed journals and dailies like Jhankar, Istahar, Sambad, Chandrabhaga, Adhunik, Mahuri, Kadambini etc. She has also published her confessional biography. She has won awards for her poetic contribution to Odia literature.
One is blessed and lucky
and a true achiever,
when submerged in true love,
That’s world ‘s
strongest emotion,
The intense feeling
of deep affection,
It is timeless
It defies a rule
It’s a dedication
beyond imagination..1
It shows
how to take care of beings,
Either of living creatures
or of innate nature,
To build a connection
To nurture and prosper,
And let grow the loved ones
from the inner core,
The positive action
makes a happy fusion
of hearts and souls,
One understands,
supports and appreciates other’s endeavour,
Longs to see on face
a line of smile,
Walks hand in hand
together to cross
rough miles……2
.
The hands stretched out
help in life to climb on
a dependable ladder,
which doesn’t sway
with shaky despair,
One perceives what
true love is like,
And happy to be lost in
fountain of eternal bliss
that rises to another world
called Heaven ,
where cool mist is showered
to kiss and embrace….3
The shining bouquet of love
so tender and dear,
wrapped in feelings of respect
and trust that to adore,
All know this is a
special time of year,
and love is abundant in air
One has to hold on to it
by any means ,because
everything is fair
in love and war,
If one walks in
with a heart worming
smile on face
and roses in hand,
The anchor of love hooks,
It’s a day of good fortune,
A special valentine...4
Col( Dr) Rekha Mohanty is an alumni of SCB Medical College, Cuttack, Odisha and she has spent most of her professional life in military hospitals in peace and field locations and on high altitude areas.She has participated in Operation Vijay (Kargil war)in 1999 and was selected for UN missions in Africa for her sincere involvement in crisis management of natural calamities in side the country and abroad where India is asked to do so in capacity of head QRT in Delhi for emergency medical supplies.She had also participated in military desert operation
’ Op Parakram’ in Rajasthan border area.After relinquishing Army Medical Corps in 2009,she worked in Ex Servicemen Polyclinic in Delhi NCR and presently is working in a private multi-speciality hospital there to keep herself engaged.
Her hobby is writing poetry in English and Odia.She was writing for college journals and local magazines as a student in school.
Being a frequent traveler around the world,she writes travelogues.The writing habit was influenced by her father who was a Police Officer and used to write daily diary in English language he had mastered from school days in old time.Her mother was writing crisp devotional poems in Odia language and was an avid reader of Odia and Bengali books.Later her children and husband also encouraged.
Dr Rekha keeps herself occupied in free times for activities like painting, baking and playing card games the contract bridge.
She is a genuine pet lover and offers her services to animal welfare organisations and involves in rescue of injured stray dogs.Being always with pets at home since early childhood ,she gives treatment to other dogs in society when asked for in absence of a vet.She delivers talks on child and women health issues to educate the ladies in army and civil.
After sad demise of her husband Dr( Brig)B B Mohanty in February 2023,she devoted more time to writing and published her first poetry book’Resilient Leaf’in August 2023.Since then there is no stopping and she is going to publish her second book of poetry soon.
She enjoys reading E magazine LV , newspaper current affairs ,writing poetry and watching selected movies whenever she gets time.She keeps travelling places of interest in between for a change which is a passion as a girl since days roaming with parents and siblings .Her motto is to be happy by giving the best to self and to the society.She is lucky to have a supportive family.
Brooch 1
Elysium or infernos
I seek at thy glance
Me and thy interno’s
Disdain or dependence.
Lord’s love is endless;
Mine too is no less
Who will then bless
If you be in fuss.
Surfeit of your gaze
If not a booze, a torture
That makes a rut base
My soul leads to puncture.
Kill me, doubt me not, my soul!
Tell me I’m not your zeal;
But don’t put me your’s not mine
As I have only with your word to dine.
My spirit burns with your sway
Many ways I dropped seeking your way
The immortality is all at its bay
To leave if you say no say.
Brooch 2
Pittance your eyes gives
Deemed it treasure of Plutus
But element of disdain lives
Latent therein kill with knives of Brutus.
Crimson robin in my backyard
Recites your name with merry note.
How come the bird turns a bard!
O, your honorific title does a lot.
They prescribe tablets of Potasi
To bring balance back in my body;
Did they know anything sans autopsy
To get back my soul to shoddy?
I am dumb and brewing with storm:
As, words in my tongue and mouth
Ponder to dwell into adjectives of your form;
Mind on you is stubborn with unquenched drouth.
Forbidden are your veiled beauty;
Hidden so are my thirst to snatch it;
Chocked is my throat at your open beauty
Is thirst mine needed to die abrupt and unslit.
Brooch 3
The drink of your mélange flavor
That had I off your vision
Dulls my memory all but clever
Its oo-shoot—your face—not to shun.
The beauty of pace of your argument
Submerges me into. The fluid so tres cool
Where shudder and trembling are only meant
To deprive the sense of divination.
You pass and shed a honeyed smile
I faltered and tripped in instant slip;
Then you gently put on to cover with veil;
Will your campy face bloom sans my strip?
I sent a letter of sweet words of praise of praise
Your heart rejoices to the muse of the words
But all the same that was concealed with pious
To ward off the sick of it you pulled the love’s chord.
You walk on with your eyes tangent to mine
Should I relish the rad oy these eyes’ fleeing
Your steps feed on my soul’s nectar and dine
Is it to me a feast or bliss for entreating?
Annamalai M is from Erode in Tamil Nadu. Worked in the state electrical utility . Possesses master degree in English literature . Member of Chennai Poets circle . Had written poems in Tamil and in English. Fond of travel .
(Picture collage of Mrs. Ashokalakshmi Sethuraman, mother of Seethaa Sethuraman.
Mrs. Ashokalakshmi Sethuraman passed away on 4th Jan, 2024 after a valiant battle with metastatic breast cancer for 1.5 years.)
Where are you Mommy?
Coffee and I are anxiously expecting you in the living room,
The morning chat these days in the slightly nippy Bombay air, is whispering to bloom.
Where are you Mommy?
Ensure™ has been stirred up in milk and cornflakes are light to crunch,
Your breakfast is ready to be served, to sip and munch.
Where are you Mommy?
The bath water is refreshingly soothing and lukewarm,
Your Mysore sandal soap is lathering the most fragrant foam.
Where are you Mommy?
Your sarees in the cupboard are tired with their excessive rest,
Each one of them is flowing lovingly to embrace and drape you, to make you look your best.
Where are you Mommy?
The idols in the home temple have been dusted and cleaned bright,
The wick in the lamp filled with oil is radiating with light.
Where are you Mommy?
The old movies on Jiofibre™ have been selected and ready to entertain,
Their unending afternoon wait for you along with your walker have become in vain.
Where are you Mommy?
WhatsApp has been silently pinging you day in and out incessantly,
I download hundreds of unread messages on your mobile hesitantly.
Where are you Mommy?
Your bed has been softly crying over your pillow,
Along with the flowery bed sheet, they have been dearly missing their beloved bedfellow.
Where are you Mommy?
Hope God is treating you, my dearest Chikky Papa, lovingly in Heaven,
Tell him to do so, otherwise one day, I will get even.
Where are you Mommy?
The smile on your face was always so magical,
The warmth that you exuded made me feel very special.
Where are you Mommy?
There is no one who looks out for me like you did, anymore,
But I will look out for you forever till my last breath and much more.
Where are you Mommy?
If I have another birth, please tell God to send you as my Mommy again,
We will then catch up till the dawn breaks, like the good old times, yet again.
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.
Love in its totality envelopes all,
redeems from all other awareness and extremes and one enjoys the bliss of the divine
feeling complete in the fusion.
What oozes then
in the vibrant valley of the soul
is the creative cream
of emotional orgasm that flows
in its sublime sense of rhythm.
That bare dare nakedness
of innocent acceptance
and merger
is love in its finest form,
sans inhibition and restraint.
Both loving and the loved ones
like creeper plants support one another
in all angles
entwined in both practical and poetic plain.
Perhaps that is what Krishna meant
in his pious passionate pranks
in the mesmerizing waters of the Yamuna, when he pleaded to shed unwanted awareness.
Strange is the place
where innovative ideas are laughed at,
wisdoms ignored
and people enjoy cheap taunts
and fake propaganda
in their eccentric amusement.
Crazy for power,
self-righteous politicians blame
and belittle their opponents
in their bid to rise
accusing one another
in their campaign cries.
Parasites are so loose
that they feel proud of their clouts with the big sorts bereft of values.
Sycophancy is the ladder
they shamelessly use.
The hungry helpless wretches are left
to fondle their fate,
while many of us poets
relish to be in lovesick-solitude
scribbling sweet nothing,
the moonstruck minds marvel at.
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.
She is sitting alone with an open
window and a horizon reaching
the blue sky where the birds did fly
yet she could not see any wings,
neither the leaves of trees that
swayed in the breeze of springs
she held the memories of time
like babies in her womb...
she searched for her dreams with
open eyes, the ones that could
show : the birthing of newborns in
parallel worlds.
Her soul has travelled for million
lightyears and reached earth in
hope to explore human love
and experience alienation
to witness that the process
of all struggles are mystic
rites that make a life stronger...
she was sent to learn, to decide,
to teach herself that breathing
is a bridge between life and
death...
and a birth is an illusion that
completes itself after that
crossover.
Anindita Bose’s 'I-Know-the-Truth-of-a-Broken-Mirror' (Writers-Workshop-2018), ‘illuminate-darkness-the-fireflies’ (Raa-Publication- 2020) and short stories collection ‘words-breathe-in-silence’ (Ukiyoto-2022) are widely acclaimed. Co-edited Dynami-Zois [Life Force] (Virasat-Art-Publication). Independent scriptwriter of short film, Anubhobe (2020). An academician and a translator of several Bengali books written by popular authors from Kolkata.
Co-founder of Rhythm-Divine-Poets
Editor of EKL-Review
Program Manager of Chair Poetry Evenings, Kolkata’s International-Poetry-Festival
She mentors people for Study Abroad Programs.
She was invited and felicitated by PachimBanga Bangla Akademi at Kavita Utsav, 2023.
People tend to believe
That whatever they do to us
Has been written
In their book of legal rights
Over us and our feelings
We tend to detach
But they pull us back
Just to throw us again
Under the train
Your trauma seems
As irrelevant
As a bird sitting on the terrace
One moment it's there
And on the other
It's gone
Your revival story
Needs to be heard
By a bunch of people
Who are going through the same
Yet being held against
Their will
Sorry act as a bandage
That tears apart
Just to make the scar
More visible and bloody
People apply the same logic
That they hate to apply on them
When the table turns
They treat you as if
You're the one
Causing it all over again
What you call the person
Who mistreats
Yet stays unapologetic
You crave for that one word of kindness
That acts as a barrier
Between you
And your feelings of feeling detached
Nothing comes easy for you
As long as they're there
A mere act of retrieval
Feels like an ocean of indulgence
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.
TIME CHANGES BUT MEMORIES DON'T
As she drowned and floated deeper into her past,
She's perplexed at what he had for her , a crush or a devotion?
A love neglected or failed to reciprocate?
May be she was too innocent to know the difference.
Nothing that you remember is ever
really lost,
Her memories are so intense
They visit him daily like fragrance from an incense,
Unambiguously she still lives in his memories and myriad of synchronicities.
Born in Jammu and brought up in Delhi ,Leena Thampi is an articulate writer who's lost in her own little epiphanies and she gives them life with her quill. She's an author extraordinaire with four books to her credit -"Rhythms of a Heart", "Autumn Blaze" , An Allusion To Time' and Embers to Flames.
She has many articles published in India and abroad. She has received many elite accolades from different literary platforms worldwide.She has been awarded by Gujarat Sahitya Academy and Motivational Strips twice for her best contribution towards literature in the year 2021 and 2022.She was also the recipient of Rabindranath Tagore Memorial literary honours 2022 by Motivational Strips.
Her work mixes luminous writing, magical realism, myths, and the hard truths of everyday life.
Besides her flair for writing and deep-rooted love for music, she is an Entrepreneur,Relationship and life coach,specialised in child psychology.She is also a dancer and actor. She is currently working on her fifth book which is a collection of short stories.
I walk with grief in my heart
Keep crossing the streams
Scaling the mountains
Reconciling happiness and sorrows
Dissimulating my fears
Of the unknown destiny
Hopes with the rising sun
For a new tomorrow
May I give a little happiness to all folks
I meet
Never hurt anyone by silence, words, gestures.
I am a river
I keep flowing
Continuously
No breaks, no holidays I have
Just murmuring softly
To the ears of nature
My love is boundless
It keeps escalating
For the universe
And it's habitats.
Colors of joy, jubilance
Colors of fun
Colors of gala
Colors of celebration
Colors of love
Colors of togetherness
Colors of spring
Colors of rejuvenation
Red, yellow, green, blue
All intermingle to form a rainbow of colors
Red stands for warmth, bravery, sacrifice
Yellow for spirituality
Blue stands for peace
Green for vitality, vegetation.
I keep drifting
From one planet to another
I am invisible
I move up, down, left, right
Beyond the horizon
Uncared, unnoticed
Dancing through the wings of time
I am speechless
But I bring healing to the scars, wounds, malaises
Everything becomes peaceful
A blanket of serenity is spread everywhere
And is submerged in a pool of boundless solitude
Maladies transform to health, healing, happiness
A new, promising tomorrow
With new joys, avenues to explore
Time heals the sorrows of mankind
Let time take its turn judiciously.
Life is a mystery
We cannot choose
The continent, country, state
Class and parents by birth. .
But we can act sensibly
To see that none is hurt
By our words, actions, silence
Man is the architect of his thoughts
As you sow, so shall you reap. ...
Yesterday I was a pauper
Today I am a prince
Tomorrow will I see the sunrise?
Life is short, art is long. ....
Let's live life to the fullest
Enjoy each day, the blessings of life
Make the most of the golden opportunities
Thank everyone who have helped us
For what we are today. .
Let me be humble, kind, forgiving
Dissolve enmities
And spread the fragrance of humanity.
I am churning in the wheels of life
Morning, noon, sunset
Dawn, midday, dusk
Continues the cycle
Chores repeat themselves
But what of discovering myself
My potentialities
Credibilities
Creativities. . .
Let me each day do something worthwhile
That is outstanding
That is Honorable
That would leave indelible impressions
On the sands of time. ....
Let me recollect
Who am I?
From where am I?
Do I deserve neglect or honour?
Is it justified to be wronged, belittled always?
Who would justify injustice, cruelty, malfeasance?
Let there be peace here and above
Dignity of labour
Honor for women
Respect for the aged
Mercy for the helpless, downtrodden
Non violence in the world.
Ms Gargi Saha is a creative writer and has published two poem books namely, 'The Muse in My Salad Days ', and 'Letters to Him '.Her poems have been featured in National and International Journals. She has received the Rabindranath Tagore Memorial Award and the Independence Day Award for poetry. Presently she edits several scientific research papers. She can be reached at gargi.paik@gmail.com
Offering me to have coffee with you
In a countryside amidst dawn chorus
To inhale the aroma of freshly brewed love
Rather understand the music of my heart beat
Try loving me with more unify as I did enigmatic
Just feel my drenched wavelet heart as drunk
Not by drinking a barrel of wine but minions love
In spite of hate in world, wants yet in my heart
Come, feel my touch take me more closely
Make me finish for long live your smile and love
Look at my eye, I want you more than God
Beat of my heart ensnared in course of real love
Soliciting my cuddle in your arm deserves silence
Dawdled crack dawn still soft smile mirrored in your lips
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.
Stars in the cosmos guiding night and day
An array of aurora borealis
Touching my aspirations in bunches of petals
Where all worries fades away in the radiant gleam of a lantern
And the conscious breaks in the lap of dawn
Breaking the flaccid illusive darkness
In the light of divine condour
Silently falls the glory of verdancy
Somewhere deep within myself
Softly murmering spoked although unuttered
The reason of everything in everything
Chanting the ultimate truth of the entire cosmos
Last season, it was weary
My heart ached in between the fog, dull and dazy
The nimbus was fading away in between grey clouds
And I remained so thirsty.
Soon, the clouds clattered beyond the western sea
Quenching my inner soul, the demons settle enduringly
Blew the conch shell deep into the farthest Hebrides
And an amalgamation of understandings swept me away.
I took a few steps ahead, completely soaked into thee
And I saw those falling apart as constants and consonants
Disbeliefs turned into beliefs as they were eternal
A season of myths turned into an enlightened celestial reality
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.
Give me a corner in your heart where
I can reside with grace,
I'll stay absolutely quiet,
You'll not know,
Black smoke has covered the earth,
I feel choked,
Is it a lost case?
Can I get some love?
Embrace me tight,
Hide me away from all that's dark
Chaotic and cloaked in haze.
This world is on an intoxicated spree,
I feel like walking beyond the bliss of dreams,
Everyone's too busy,
No time to listen to your side of the story,
People are running a race,
Too much in a hurry
To touch the finishing line,
But this wearied heart of mine
Needs love,
Yearns for a euphoric kiss,
Give me a corner in your heart where
It's not hard to keep a promise.
The walls are cracking,
A tsunami of thoughts hits the brain,
Emotions are in doldrums,
It's time to pull the reigns,
Give me a corner in your heart where
I can reside in peace,
Tucked in safe.
How far will you go for love?
I'll go till there where fireflies dance
In a mystic glow,
Where we transcend Time,
Entering the Eternal.
How far will you go for love?
I'll go beyond the horizon
To search for your heart
In a jungle of emotions
And make you feel my love.
How far will you go for love?
The road is long,
Yet I'll walk across the desert of my heart
To catch my dreams,
Hide you within my arms.
How far will you go for love?
I'll not measure my steps,
Roads may not be smooth,
May not be straight nor easy to glide,
But I'll love you for better,
And it's all that matters.
Nandini Mitra is a poet based in Kolkata. A post- graduate in English Literature from Jadavpur University. She is in the profession of teaching for last twenty -five years. She has published her first book of poetry,The Road To Tranquility, recently. Has worked as a freelance journalist for a prestigious Bengali magazine published from Kolkata. She is passionate about Music and is a trained classical singer. However, writing poetry has become an integral part of Nandini’s journey of life since 2011. She believes in the religion of humanity, compassion and love. She has a rich sense of metaphors and imageries and enthusiastic about weaving poetry relating to the realities of lives and the diversities of nature. Her poems have featured in various national and international anthologies.
ANOTHER BUDHA, A WHISTLE BLOWER!
Not a Whistle blower,
He blows whistles only in the night
As night thickens and becomes motion-less,
When it is a guarantee that the Sun has run away
To hide somewhere and not to appear any early,
At a time when the world lapses into deep slumber
The neighbourhood in the neon light
Goes serene and silent as Budha’s face
He blows whistle to blow away the evil glances and the evil doers
The potential law breakers or lock breakers !
From the hills of Nepal he has descended
On the lanes of the plains of India,
On the by-lanes of a millennium city,
No less a Gautam, though not in meditation, but in action
Has he not left his bonny bride and honey child behind?
Far off in the midst of the meadows, hills and mountains,
He here seeks not science, but sustenance,
Serving the Narayans
His whistle is blown to fill a few bellies
And to secure the sleeps of many
His sadhana is not under a pipal tree of a jungle
In a serene tranquil of blue and green
A renouncer of own home for days and nights,
To keep other homes safe, secured, and tight,
Like a Budha he sacrifices for others
And blows whistle some time on foot
And sometime on a bi-cycle not-so-good,
His night time sadhana is in a concrete jungle!
The jungle that makes recede the real jungle.
The jungle that is more dangerous than the real ones,
But the young lad from the far-off land
Goes round on beat, beating the fear,
A Budha, the whistle-blower!
Professor Niranjan Barik ,formerly Professor and Head, Department of Political Science at Ravenshaw University also served as a Professor of Pol.Sc and Principal , Khallikote Autonomous College, Berhampur, Odisha. A Fulbright Scholar-in-Residence at Miles College, Birmingham, AL, USA in 2007-08 , Prof Barik evinces interest in reading and writing short stories and poems in Odia and English. His poetry book , “Freedom from Bondage: An Ode to Nature” was recently released at Bhubaneswar.
The earth has an alarm
Of its own,
With no snooze-button on it,
Especially for those
Who have not turned deaf so far,
Beside the messy melody
Of
Machines’ merriment!
Anjali Sahoo writes poems both in English and Odia. Her first poetry book A Tryst with Thunder (2021), published by Authors Press, New Delhi, sheds light upon manifold aspects of life. They take the readers to the world of imaginative vibrancy, unearthing hidden mysteries of the world. Her published works include three poetry books and two short stories collections in Odia.
Young and warm spring.
Festival of colours.
Love is in bloom.
Blushes horizon of life.
Sky smiles azure so silk and satin.
Stars blink to orangey twilight.
Night promises kaleidoscopic dreams.
Propose to promise
Rose, kiss, hug, chocolate and teddy.
Ripples of love laced February emits
aroma of all time companionship.
Soft sighs breathe desires warm and enchanting.
Curving to romantic curve river of life dives deep to the ocean of love so wavy, emarald and torquise.
Mozart's symphony fills vacant melancholy.
Caressing breeze comforts pounding heart beats.
Soul fondling delight life encounters with.
Being intoxicated to the silky moon
Love dipped emotional strings pledge an ageless companionship ,
a celestial cozy eternity.
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 .
In a quiet kitchen corner, a web's spun,
My eyes say it shouldn't be there, but it's done.
I thought it a trap, a danger begun,
But my heart sees a playground, full of fun.
A trampoline to safe lands, under the sun,
A stage for a dance, pranks to be done.
A rope across mountains, adventure won,
It makes me wonder, what if, just begun.
What if the spider thinks, in fun,
I was his roommate, under the sun?
I can't let his work come undone,
I'll let him play, the sky's not yet spun.
Maybe one day, I'll make my own run,
Call it a co-web, under the sun.
Or just watch him weave, until the day’s done,
His sparkling dew drops, shining, not shun.
Rani Jacob Sunil is a Neonatal Nurse from UK. She is interested in arts and literatures. She has published in Poetry book called Ormakal Sukshikkanullathalla ( memories not to keep ) in Malayalam last year .
RITU RAJ
Manjula Asthana Mahanti
.. Bright morning was waiting
For the Sun rising
Birds chirping, singing
Welcome songs
Butterflies were spreading
Their colours galore, fascinating
Freshly bloomed flowers inviting
Even humming of bees was
Melodious, enchanting
Mother Nature was relaxed
Happy and amused
To show her happiness
She has tossed yellow colour
Here , there, everywhere
Other objects are happy too,
Found back their beauty, uniqueness
Why not,
It's arrival of ' MADHUMAS '
The Spring, king of seasons
" Ritu Raj Basant "
Manjula Asthana Mahanti is a post graduate in Sociology and Hindi. Her Graduation was in English honors. She is a Sangeet Prabhakar (vocal) and has done her B. Ed. She worked in a college as Senior Lecturer. Her last assignment was that of a high school Principal. She lives in Forest Park, Bhubaneshwar, Odisha, India.
She is a published trilingual poet, author, editor, translator and story teller. She has eight collections to her credit along with a long list of participation in national, international anthologies, e-magazines, etc. She is a recipient of several national, international awards, Samman Gujarat and Telangana sahitya akademy award amongst many more. Her recent award was "Icons of Asia"
Many years from now you will return to these lawns
And stand under the Gulmohar tree.
Memory will stab you like a sharp dagger
Freed from the prison of time.
You will look at the red petals,
Like dried patches of blood
Strewn on the carpet of anguished earth.
The afternoon will melt into a desolate evening
Of evanescent light.
The clouds will float in the sky
Covering the forlorn moon.
The dried up petals will still shine
On the mirror of thousand memories.
You will remember me
In the dimming lights and the fading stars.
And then you will wish,
Oh Dear, how you will wish,
We had walked together
Towards a glorious sunset, hand in hand
Lost in a timeless rhapsody of mellifluous desire.
Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi is a retired civil servant and a former Judge in a Tribunal. Currently his time is divided between writing poems, short stories and editing the eMagazine LiteraryVibes . Four collections of his short stories in English have been published under the title The Jasmine Girl at Haji Ali, A Train to Kolkata, Anjie, Pat and India's Poor, The Fourth Monkey. He has also to his credit nine books of short stories in Odiya. He has won a couple of awards, notably the Fakir Mohan Senapati Award for Short Stories from the Utkal Sahitya Samaj. He lives in Bhubaneswar.
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