Literary Vibes - Edition CLVI (29-Aug-2025) - POEMS
Title : PANAM KUZHY RIVER (Watercolour by 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,
Welcome to the 156th edition of LiteraryVibes which comes loaded with .some enchanting poems and entertaining short stories. This month we are lucky to get four new writers - all exceptionally talented. Pragya Prasad, a young student of 11th grade in Noida has written a stunning story which testfies to her incredible talent. Linkan Sahoo, another student from Political Science Department of Utkal university, writes beautiful, touching stories. Shri Brahma Acharya, a veteran writer from Bhubaneswar, is a master in the art of twist at the tail, in the same league as O. Henry or Jeffrey Archer. Radhika Suri from Hyderabad is a highly accomplished poet who touches the readers' heart with her sensitivity. A hearty welcome to the newcomers to LV family and tons of good wishes to them for a fulfilling literary career.
After a long wait of five months, finally VIBES ETERNAL, the commemorative compendium of the "best" poems and short stories from the earlier 150 editions of LiteraryVibes saw the light of the day in mid-August. It was launched in a simple but meaningful function on the 18th August. 104 poems and 37 short stories packed into 404 pages make the book a real collector's edition. Apart from the 72 poets and writers who contributed their articles for the book, many LVians enriched the efforts in different ways. Ms. Avantika Vijay Singh painstakingly did multiple rounds of editing the articles and left an indelible imprint of her qualitative input on the book. Mr. Jay Jagdev produced a fine front cover design. Mr Sunil Biswal prepared collages of the LV covers for the 3 back pages. Many friends helped me with their valuable suggestions at various stages. LV is eternally indebted to them.
August, being our Independence month, evokes special sentiments. It is a month of patriotic fervour. I came across the story of a young boy of 10 years who helped the Indian Army in the border areas without an iota of fear. He wants to join the Army when he grows up. While saluting his courage and patriotism, I feel our country is in safe hands, with the likes of Shravan Singh, standing guard for the nation.
Here is the news about Shravan Singh:
10 YEAR OLD SHRAVAN SINGH HONOURED AS YOUNGEST CIVIL WARRIOR OF OPERATION SINDOOR
10-year-old Shravan Singh from Punjab was honored by the Indian Army for his role in Operation Sindoor, where he served refreshments to soldiers.
In a heartening display of patriotism, 10-year-old Shravan Singh from Mamdot village in Punjab's Ferozepur district has been recognised by the Indian Army as the 'Youngest Civil Warrior' during Operation Sindoor. Amidst the operation, Shravan selflessly provided soldiers with water, tea, milk, lassi, and ice, offering comfort and support.
His dedication towards Indian Army and bond with the troops earned him a special felicitation by Major General Ranjeet Singh Manral, GOC of the 7 Infantry Division.
Sharvan's father, Sona Singh, told PTC News, "The soldiers were stationed on our land, and from the very first day, my son began taking milk, lassi, water, and ice to them. We never stopped him because he found happiness in serving the Army. He kept visiting them regularly, and it made us proud. He now dreams of becoming a soldier one day."
Speaking to the media, Shravan said he enjoyed visiting the Army personnel and providing them with refreshments. "I want to become a soldier when I grow up and serve the nation," he said. "They gave me a special gift, treated me to a special meal, and even gave me ice cream. That made me very happy."
A real heart-warming story from our Mera Bharat Mahaan!
Hope you will enjoy the offerings in today's edition. Please share your happiness with others by forwarding the following links to all your friends and relatives:
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/603 (Short stories)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/604 (Poems)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/605 (Young Magic).
There is also a medical Anecdote by Prof. Dr. Gangadhar Sahoo, the famous Gynaecologist at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/602
Hope you remember that all the 156 editions of LiteraryVibes are available at https://positivevibes.today/literaryvibes
Take care, enjoy the poems and stories from LiteraryVibes till we meet again on the 27th September.
With warm regards
Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Editor, LiteraryVibes
Friday, the 29th August, 2025
Table of Contents :: Poems
01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
PEACE NOBEL
THE PHOENIX WILL NOT RISE
02) Dilip Mohapatra
HIS MASTER’S VOICE: NOW LISTEN TO THE DOG’S
03) Abani Udgata
PRAYING TOGETHER
04) Snehaprava Das
COUNTING
05) Sujata Dash
OVERHAUL
06) Dr Bichitra Kumar Behura
THE CHOICE TO REMAIN
THE THRESHOLD
07) Pradeep Kumar Biswal
THE SKY
08) Baldev Samantaray
CHAT- A MONOLOGUE
09) Kunal Roy
NOON THOUGHTS
10) Aneek Chatterjee
BLUE SUMMER
11) Leena Thampi
PELLUCID DREAM
12) Ravi Ranganathan
SUMMER NIGHT
13) Sudipta Mishra
MY WORDS
14) Padmasri Chennojwala
BOAT CRUISE
16) Dr. Rekha Mohanty
KEEPING QUIET
17) Dr R. S.Tewari
IN HER GREEN ATTIRE
WITHOUT FURY AND POWER
UNFLINCHING RADAR
18) Bipin Patsani
THUS SPAKE ONE
THE BLOCKADE
19) Matralina Pati
WAR AND LOVE
20) Chaitrakana Pati
DEAR BROTHER
21) Darsana Kalarickal
HOW SUDDENLY WE BECOME ORPHANS
22) Nandini Mitra
MONSOON`S SYMPHONY
TIME IS NEVER ENOUGH
23) Swarnaprava Lenka
IN THE SHELTER OF YOUR SHADOW
LOOKING BACK AND MOVING FORWARD
24) Dr. Radharani Nanda
MY ETERNAL HOME
25) Mrs. Setaluri Padmavathi
COFFEE - THE BEVERAGE
26) Dr. Rajamouly Katta
THE PAST I LIVE IN
SCULPTURES OF MUSINGS
27) Sreedharan Parokode
THE BEGGARS
28) Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi
OUR BABY AND THE GOLDFISH
Prabhanjan K. Mishra
They come and go, cameras in hands
and microphones as well, not loud,
but obviously, from the tribe of intrepid
journos, the fearless lot.
But she, only a child.
Gaunt, starved, of skin and bones.
she has two mothers: one, a skinny
bag of bones, and another, her mother
land, Gaza, much maligned.
But she, only a child.
Her birth mother like her, silent, resilient,
gaunt and too proud to scream, squirm,
fidget when hunger or thirst scratch her entrails;
she, like the tough grass-stubbles of Gaza.
But she, only a child.
The second one, her mother land
is on fire; she lives inside a stockpile
of gunpowder, she suffers haplessly being
raped and molested by her aggressors.
But she, only a child.
Neither the child’s mother would accept food,
nor her motherland accept peace
in beggars' bowls as alms, unlike Purus,
getting the crown from Alexander.
But she, only a child.
What does she, a child, do? A precious little
except perhaps, fast, wait, and fast some more,
till she tires out the time to stop and
look behind, or until the war dies of age.
But she, only a child.
False messiahs mushroom, and broker peace
between warring sides, but under the table
sell arms, spread mistrust, and wish at heart
let the war go on simmering.
The Peace Nobel, an old worn tiara
is out to look for an old fool's head,
but many heads itch to wear it, knowing well,
"Uneasy lies the head....", but not hers.
Because, she, only a child, long dead.
(A poem on ‘War and Peace’)
Prabhanjan K. Mishra
A promise breached, you are delivered
to our home like a big fair lizard
haplessly whacked to death,
called 'consignment', certified as you,
profile and features burnt, defaced.
You went without me, return as
a dead iguana. Your burnt mobile
and the deformed ring didn't make me
any happier. Had you stayed untraced,
it would be easier to live with hopes.
Your promise to return lay mangled,
burnt, decayed, mixed with others' promises.
Body parts, ashes,
matched to names by articles, toys;
returning home in caskets, brass pots.
Promises are no Phoenix to rise
from ashes. But memories survive,
dreams pervade all hours,
the waiting continues, hopes live
like the moon - waxing, and waning.
I feel abrupt, adrift, unable to adapt
to your promises; they lie melted, mutilated.
Only memories rehab me to live
with a dream though a nightmare haunts,
a huge fire ball across the sky.
(Air crash, Ahmedabad, 12th June 2025)
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.
HIS MASTER’S VOICE: NOW LISTEN TO THE DOG’S
Dilip Mohapatra
The world remembered me
in my picture on the logo
of the famous music company
my ears erect and stiff
listening intently
to my master’s voice
but alas the phonograph is gone
washed away by
the tides of time
and so have the black
circular discs which danced
like undulating waves
on the turntable
to the cadence of the
music of their own.
But I still live not only
in memories of the days bygone
but in the souls of
my bloodline that continues to flow
and so does my master
who still holds their leashes
and tells them to sit and stay
down and heel
throws the frisbee on the beach
tells them to fetch
makes them run
faster and faster
and never lets them forget
that he’s the master.
But have you ever wondered
how do I feel?
Do I hate him in some corner
of my heart
or can’t really stand his scratches
his ruffling of my fur
at the wrong places
and all those stupid tricks
that he imposed on me?
Who the hell wants to be tamed
and his spirits restrained?
Who the hell would like
to wait for someone’s command
and always ready to run
at his beck and call?
They say love is blind
and perhaps my love is beyond that
much higher—
it’s not a case
of the slave and master
but of the souls
that were destined to meet—
an attachment
a relationship
a devotion
that is divine
perhaps undefinable—
and unconditional.
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
Abani Udgata
We lay crouched before
the deliverer of moments.
Another mass on bare floor
perhaps washed ashore
after a shipwreck, a man or woman.
Though strangers our breaths
are familiar to each other, and lips
coated with the taste of similar ashes .
Inhaled long-residing smell of camphor,
of dried flowers and sacred syllables.
Air and sunshine waited outside.
Moments we lived inside out, tested
the bodies on the floor, and often
sent them here to the sacred stones.
As we rise on our hunches eyes closed
the flicker of the lamp spray- paints us,
question marks swaying on the canvas
of stone ceiling cracked, porous, brittle.
Away, far away, a weak sun holds
no firm assurance to flesh out
the contours of our prayer.
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
Snehaprava Das
When the smoky veil of night
Sprawls over my balcony
I count the faces of loneliness
Hiding in the crowd
Inside and around me;
I sit counting the scars on my soul
Glimmering a vivid blue
I count the wishes
Crashed on my private mirror
Before even I hope them to come true;
I sit counting the vibratos
In the songs of the wind
As the scales rise and drop,
I count the sighs of the trees
As they grow heavy, then slow
And finally stop;
I count the hours and minutes
Stitched into the sail, as I embark upon
The voyage through my night
Swinging between hope and fear
Will I ever reach another land of light;
Dr.Snehaprava Das, former Associate Professor of English, is an acclaimed translator of Odisha. She has translated a number of Odia texts, both classic and contemporary into English. Among the early writings she had rendered in English, worth mentioning are FakirMohan Senapati's novel Prayaschitta (The Penance) and his long poem Utkala Bhramanam, which is believed to be a.poetic journey through Odisha's cultural space(A Tour through Odisha). As a translator Dr.Das is inclined to explore the different possibilities the act of translating involves, while rendering texts of Odia in to English.Besides being a translator Dr.Das is also a poet and a story teller and has five anthologies of English poems to her credit. Her recently published title Night of the Snake (a collection of English stories) where she has shifted her focus from the broader spectrum of social realities to the inner conscious of the protagonist, has been well received by the readers. Her poems display her effort to transport the individual suffering to a heightened plane of the universal.
Dr. Snehaprava Das has received the Prabashi Bhasha Sahitya Sammana award The Intellect (New Delhi), The Jivanananda Das Translation award (The Antonym, Kolkata), and The FakirMohan Sahitya parishad award(Odisha) for her translation.
Sujata Dash
A long lost pain has found its epicenter
In a corner of my soul
Pity! How crooked, fate has acted
Demeaning my heartfelt love
As a misfired bullet and a comic prologue !
My head is abuzz and my gut in knots
A hollow breathy sob
Is my melody and companion
It has seeped deep and strums along
Rolling back my tongue
I act like a morose
Seek lost identity
Beyond barbed fences of living
Long for happier pastures
Seasons do come and leave
But the deadlock corrodes deep
Snakes its way through narrow lanes of life
Heart aches with emptiness
Countenance turns red with indignation
Gathering number limbs
And throbbing head together
I try overcome the feeling of dejection
Having discerned well that
Healing will take time to happen
I better make good the loss
For, no one else can bail me out of
The pitiful realities and stand off
Lend a shoulder to my afflicted core
To mourn and cry on.
Sujata Dash is a poet from Bhubaneswar, Odisha. She is a retired banker.She has four published poetry anthologies(More than Mere-a bunch of poems, Riot of hues and Eternal Rhythm and Humming Serenades -all by Authorspress, New Delhi) to her credit.She is a singer,avid lover of nature. She regularly contributes to anthologies worldwide.
Dr Bichitra Kumar Behura
So much to gather,
so much to release.
I wonder—
is it wiser to close the circle,
or to step into a path unformed,
where stars whisper beneath my feet?
What if I simply become still—
let the moments pass through me,
watch them like drifting incense,
a silent flame swaying
like a palm in sacred wind?
Yes, I may bend—
this way and that,
fragile in form,
but rooted in spirit.
I will endure.
I will rise
through the hush of trials,
like dawn through mist.
And when I drown
in the boundless depth of your gaze,
do not rescue me—
but hold me,
weave me gently
into your dream-woven tresses.
There, I shall remain—
cradled in stillness,
in a hush beyond time,
in equanimity
until the end of eternity.
Dr Bichitra Kumar Behura
Often, I gaze at the sky,
entranced by its endless hue,
attuned to the silent murmur
of clouds adrift in sacred procession—
formless, yet they whisper secrets,
echoes of realms unseen,
telling me: bliss waits
for the soul that dares to descend
into the shimmering abyss—
a veil beyond, where time dissolves
into the breath of infinity.
Below, I summon the ancient sea,
whose waves rise like sentient spirits,
dancing in spirals, calling me home
to the sacred undoing—
the dissolving of self
in the sanctuary I have long sought
upon wind-swept shores.
The vastness of eternity
wraps itself around my being,
and I vanish
into the hallowed space between—
where the sky, serene and knowing,
kisses the sea, wild and eternal.
There, in that boundless merging,
I become nothing… and everything.
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
Pradeep Kumar Biswal
To look up to the sky
Don't need eyes
Look at your inner self
The sky will be invigorated
Inside the heart.
?Can ?see the galaxies
The constellation of stars
The innumerable planets
Their movements
And celestial games .
You may not understand
Their sign languages
By the level of
Our intelligence.
If you are able
Hold up to the skies
Within yourself
The emptiness will be gone
Horizon will appear blue
While bidding adieu.
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
Baldev Samantaray
It’s a lonely world out there
There’s a crowd and the din
The crowd mingled over the din
of gyrating hips
jostling and thrusting
to the crafted beat
struggling to paint
passion and enjoyment
It’s a lonely world
The partners we danced with
were mirrors that held us closely
matching every beat
syncing every step
We flinch to meet alone
in flesh and blood
with another lonely soul
It’s only the crowd
It’s only the group
that gives us comfort and security
We don’t talk
We advise
We note
We upload our desires
our inadequacies
that haunt us
day and night
Yet we are afraid
to reveal it
We are afraid
to own it
We pick the rant
of another lonely soul
We forward it
dressing it as our life lesson
yet hiding behind
the anonymity
of forwarded message
We only talk with ourselves
We do it religiously
like the morning prayer
Reliving the catharsis of a voyeur
Baldev Samantaray is a retired banker who lives in Bhubaneswar. He did his post graduation in English literature from Ravenshaw College (76-78).He started writing from his Ravenshaw days. Many of his poems appear in various journals and anthologies.
Kunal Roy
The blazing sun,
slitherrs down the sky,
resembles an egg yolk,
slices the lambent darkness around!
The sky burns,
complains of the scorch in vain!
The birds faint ,
fall from the height
or tree -
A stillness pervades,
weaves the memories,
mystery chuckles-
the water stops to gurgle!
The depeopled streets,
The long silhouettes
instill fear,
trembles the limbs-
urges to run away!
The somber noon
not less than necromancy,
not less than necropolis!
I, with a heavy heart,
sit beside the casement,
witness the unbearable silence -
eating into my brain,
glistening the corner of my eye,
the visages of yesterday
appear in haziness,
cause ripples in the placidity!
I shout and scream,
chase the figures at distance
like the clouds chased by
the dollops of sunshine!
An abrupt disappearance,
Confounded I am!
The shaking noon thoughts -
melt into an afternoon glow,
The horizon dipped in solitude,
Stars peep in -
announce their arrival!
A deprived soul
shyes away from the moon -
to count the stars !!
Kunal Roy has always been an ardent lover of literature. He has received various awards for his literary contributions. He is a poet and a critic of poetry. His works have been published both here and abroad. Currently working as an Assistant Professor of English Language and Communication in George Group of Colleges, Kolkata.
Aneek Chatterjee
Summer eloped with me
to the jungle; to the sky.
Fruits I never knew,
greeted me. Blue vast
greeted me. In the scorching
rays, I tried to trace you,
but could not find either you or any
assured love in the air, portrayed.
Blue summer only eloped
with me, in melancholic happiness.
Aneek Chatterjee is a poet and academic from Kolkata, India. He has published more than six hundred poems in reputed literary magazines and poetry anthologies across the globe. He authored 17 books including five poetry collections titled, “Seaside Myopia” (Cyberwit, 2018), “Unborn Poems and Yellow Prison” (Cyberwit, 2019), “Of Ashes and Persiflage” (Hawakal, 2020), “Archive Avenue” (Cyberwit, 2022) and "Last Evening Was A River" (Penprints, 2024). He also co-edited the “Poetry Conclave Year Book 2022” (Authors Press, 2022). A Pushcart Prize nominee, Dr. Chatterjee also received the prestigious “Alfredo Pasilono Memorial Panorama International Literary Award 2023”. 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
Leena Thampi
As I forget and leave behind the yesterday's me.
I am a bit perplexed whether
To burst into tears or to burst into laughter.
I have traveled inside me looking for an exit,
Esoteric eyes, a celestial masquerade,
How long I have been trying to know that ark of withered flowers that I bear on my chest.
Cause fear makes noises in different ways.
Chaos dressed with selfish sequins, party all night
Hapless lie on the cold pavements begging for a meal.
Crawling in the dark my mind conjures up miracles
Can I reach the daylight with my truthful voice and contemplate the distance between the sun and the moon?
May be i am lost in a forest of thoughts,
May be I am building a mansion without bricks and stones,
May be I am a pencil yearning to write without papers or boards,
May be I am in search of a shade to colour the world to find vibrancy from this monochrome,
May be I want to prove myself that my lyrics have life and I live within them lost.
To ponder it, a beautiful delusion, poignant fantasy
Being in control of my own kaleidoscope ,
I have travelled far to lay my head,and learnt to make a restful bed.
For what's good never lasted where masked faces reigned.
Me like a mourning dove crooned melodic blues;
Tangled in my thoughts I belong , still in darkness we all bloom.
The new day emerged from nature's deep breath,
Here I stand in front of an invisible line that seperates me from the reality of others,
I really don't have the courage to cross,
Can anyone see that line?
I sat down and spoke to my naked soul once again,
It told me "I yearn to wear a dress of fire to burn the fear outside".
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.
Leena Thampi is a celebrated author and entrepreneur known for her captivating writing style that transcends the ordinary. With five published books and numerous internationally featured articles, her work has garnered widespread recognition and accolades. Recent accolades include four awards from" The Book Channel" for her four books across different categories, She's also the winner of the 'Women Face of the Year 2024' award by Fox Story India, and the City Excellence Awards by Bharat Times.
Her literary prowess has been recognized with Rabindranath Tagore Memorial literary honors and Gujarat Sahitya Academy honors. Leena's unique narrative voice blends luminous prose, magical realism, myths, and raw life realities, inviting readers into a world of wonder and introspection.
A multifaceted talent, Leena is a certified child psychologist, relationship coach, and TEFL trainer. She is the Co-founder and COO of HAVL Hi-Tech Pvt Ltd.
Her published works include "Rhythms of a Heart", "Autumn Blaze", "An Allusion To Time", "Embers to Flames", and "Celestial Melodies".
With over a hundred accolades from literary platforms worldwide, Leena continues to inspire with her writing. She is currently working on her sixth book, a collection of short stories. Her articles, poems, anthologies, interviews, and features have been published in national and international magazines and newspapers.
Ravi Ranganathan
O, so magical the summer night! So unreal this stretch
Of variegated hues; so hazy pictures it'd fetch
Only the vanishing ink the memory can sketch
Here’s not drawn nor twilight tide nor any bright afterglow
It’s not merely a night that folds over another day I know
Nor the aftermath of evening shadow that lightens the woe
That seem to caress the clouds before peeping into my room
As though all along the elements know the nature of my gloom
And have come to embrace me and dress my psychic costume
The breath of this tender summer night feels so much at ease
Your thoughts unveil my beautiful soul, now like a soft breeze
Murmuring its own sweet lullaby that whispers me to peace
And I can now withstand this night, all nights and all days
Even if I am under a frozen silence or prolonged daze
I have come to like this night, and now enjoy its essays
Winter nights might freeze and shrink me like a bud
I might even slide into a retreat and refuse to shed
My inhibitions; negative vibes might flow like a flood
I’ll then come back to the thoughts of this summer night
And from my depths that tide of energy will gladly fight
And with fire in my eyes I shall surely face daylight!
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.
Sudipta Mishra
I don’t know the words of a fool,
Nor the words of the wisest man;
My words are carefully chosen
From the enigma of silence.
I am familiar with the words of mortals—
The fluttering expressions
That flow from the souls of the innocent.
These words are veiled
In the teary eyes of a poor man.
Each day, I decode the unspoken words
Of a destitute woman
Who despises the need
To bargain with her body.
I am not interested in the words of a priest
That drift in the open air,
Sometimes lost in the mist.
I don’t want to know what lies beneath
The chanting of sages
On their pilgrimage to an unknown land.
I don’t seek the paths of wisdom;
I only wish to understand
The pain within her complaining voice.
I aspire to learn the words
That elude my grasp.
Many voices remain silenced;
I want to wander along their paths
And allow their muffled sounds
To adorn my poems.
My words will echo the grief of the voiceless,
Breaking through the barriers of iron walls.
They will carry the immortal messages
Of those who have passed away.
My words will become
The wings of freedom for oppressed souls,
Transcending the constraints of time,
Surpassing the limits
Of birth, death, and rebirth.
My sharp words will pierce
The heart of the wild sea
In the deep, dark, silent hours of the night.
They will shatter the clouds
Of fearful dreams.
My language will stretch
Beyond the borders of any nation,
Becoming the harbinger of truth and eternity—
To conquer hearts.
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.
Padmasri Chennojwala
(Translated from Telugu by Elanaaga)
The Ganges of musical notes
is surging from my umbilicus,
passing through the heart, throat, tongue.
Cleaving the layers of brain,
the alphabet is turning a banyan tree.
Shall I rest in the tree’s shadow,
or dip in the river of notes?
Mind began to hasten and harry.
The twin-boat cruise is
continuing non-stop.
Is the journey right?
The boat is writhing in the
pain of a quandary.
Brooks of notes are running to
the forest of poetry, while the woodland is
readying itself to welcome the notes.
At sea, my heart sought refuge
at Bharathi’s feet for an answer.
The secret of success lies in
deftly handling both, said the mother of arts,
with a smile on her face.
A home-maker with an M.A. degree and two post-graduate diplomas including one in music, Ch. Padmashree composes poetry and prose in Telugu. Her poems keep appearing in local periodicals on and off. She won a few prizes in poetry-writing competitions.
Her other hobbies include book reading, listening to music, solving crosswords and other puzzles, enjoying the Nature and so on.
Elanaaga is a well-known poet, writer, translator, and critic in the field of Telugu literature. He is a paediatrician, but only pursuing his literary interest now. His actual name is Dr Surendra Nagaraju.
He penned 37 books so far, 18 of which are original writings (two in English), while 19 are translations. Of the latter, 10 are from English to Telugu and 9 from Telugu to English. His works comprise books of free verse, prosodic poems, experimental poetry, language-related essays, essays of criticism, standard crosswords and translations and so on.
He lives in Hyderabad. His email address is elanaaga@gmail.com.
Radhika Suri
(Translated from Telugu by Elanaaga)
Study the silhouettes of sighs
hidden beneath the layers of the heart.
All have emerged from quietness!
They are scenes depicting
the blasts of the inner heart,
bogged in the quagmire of thoughts –
the rising ripples of the
vehement internal stream.
They’re unwittingly visible
in the wavering inquisition.
Try not to weigh them in a balance;
they’re manifestations of dissimilar emotions
spilled over from the interior of the heart.
Radhika Suri
(Translated from Telugu by Elanaaga)
Silent beauty, spirited thoughts –
if torment entrenches,
commotion gets rid of actions;
silence manifests itself.
Spirit appears dispirited.
Stillness has great patience
He is an introvert, expert at negotiating
the turbulence of mind’s ocean!
Many a meaning is hidden
in the sulking heart, full of
serious thoughts that never overflow.
Silence has depth.
If intense, it rings danger bells
inside the heart, becomes a raging spark.
Converse once briefly;
it unfolds many a hidden tale
stored in the heart,
becomes a cool companion, gives solace.
A seasoned savant, always willing
to clear the doubts!
If silence is yours,
happiness is always within the reach.
Holder of an M.A. and a postgraduate Diploma, Radhika Suri is a promising, upcoming poet and writer. She is a homemaker, and has enormous talent. Her poems, reviews etc. keep appearing in local Telugu periodicals. She also won several prizes in poetry competitions. She loves in Hyderabad.
Elanaaga is a well-known poet, writer, translator, and critic in the field of Telugu literature. He is a paediatrician, but only pursuing his literary interest now. His actual name is Dr Surendra Nagaraju.
He penned 37 books so far, 18 of which are original writings (two in English), while 19 are translations. Of the latter, 10 are from English to Telugu and 9 from Telugu to English. His works comprise books of free verse, prosodic poems, experimental poetry, language-related essays, essays of criticism, standard crosswords and translations and so on.
He lives in Hyderabad. His email address is elanaaga@gmail.com.
Dr. Rekha Mohanty
Voice has to be heard
clear and loud,
The opinion
must get applaud,
The connotation
must have positive point,
Otherwise better
to keep quiet …
Tolerating any thing
and every thing
is nothing but self assault,
Sailing human life
prophesied to
be tolerant,descent
is always difficult,
In realisation it’s desired
keeping quiet…
It is poignant
to be judged against
true value,
Best is to be an old wise owl,
Rather to stay unseen
unheard safe and cool…
The property of elastic
is to strech up to a maximum limit,
Beyond that it loses
its form to hang flaccid,
Similar is under pressure
the behaviour of a quietest person,
Its natural to break down,
With zero tolerance
life takes a turn…
To live meaningfully
is all about
courageously to stand up,
Let true value show up,
To protect self and
overcome the barrier
with patience and perseverance,
Or else it’s futile keeping quiet
and continue to tolerate nuisance…
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.
Dr R. S.Tewari
Sustaining and challenging ever go together ,
Visibly or invisibly are they complement to each other.
All depends on the deeds done in relative terms everywhere,
Matters not, mundane or
ethereal concerns of human sphere.
Aspirations and the goals have truly strong co-herence
That paves the path of princess' palpitation to her forte of credence.
Let us sustain in all kinds of challenges to tame the bulging fire
In and out, so as to prevail peace on the earth in her green attire.
Dr R. S.Tewari
Simplicity leads to sublimity and arrogance resentment ,
But life witnesses both like the earth and the firmament.
Man needs the wisdomful path to tread on everywhere,
So as to make a harmony between his source and goal yonder.
It is the composite culture of life that bridges up the gulf
Between the demon in and the sublime source in human self.
Come on the real heroes of humanity and the new world order !
Be saviours of mankind by Kindling peace without fury and power.
Let festivals be celebrated with their intrinsic spirit ,
No mere customary display with so called pompous exhibit.
Value based systems and cultural fests have a long lasting luster
In life and the world around that opens the doors of unity- cluster.
Bonds in varied relations are strengthened through these festivals,
And the social harmony is revived in new shades and fragrant petals.
Dr R. S.Tewari
Get up, go and go to your goal-oriented destination,
And give no room for wavering your firm determination .
Life is defined by all in their own individual manner,
So are they able to realise their dreams and garner .
Life ever aims at harboring our projects and plans,
And water the creepers of aspirations and concerns.
Once the motto and mission is pious and the journey is on ,
The means and ways are unearthed with perseverance paragon.
Commitment to self engenders smile and positivity within ,
Forgetting all pang and pain gone by or dormant out and in.
Be never desperate rather be up and fly to the pole star ,
Once you set out for, and prove your unflinching radar .
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.
Bipin Patsani
The soul of humanity that I am;
How far would you go on pestering me man,
How long would you press me,
How long would you suppress?
I’ll either explode or find out a bypass as I am
Imperishable, indestructible in my positive plurality,
Craving all the more for creative continuity.
My humility and humanity is my strength.
So let it not be mistaken as sycophancy,
My human weakness or hypocrisy.
If my creative reticence makes me humble,
I know how to grumble as well
If denied peace, freedom and opportunity.
My smallness is the nothingness of dust
Where a hundred thousand die for dignity
As it was in the past, and my openness
Represents space so as to accommodate stars.
Primitive and pure in my endeavor
And a potential gun-powder, I shine like gold,
The way bones shine, stones shine and shines
The dark of the stick in a flame
To ignite fire to keep you warm.
So let not the house burn, handling me for fun.
The hope and aspirations of the mass
And the common man’s cry for justice,
My mere whisper will become a voice
And worry kindred spirits at any place.
My sigh will burn the sky and if you dare
To destroy me, from my grave
Will emerge thousands of the like
Holding out their eager hands to strike.
So no appeasement please,
No depriving of rights
For divisive favours to release.
Bipin Patsani
Our own most often
Do us more harm
Than hands foreign
We so much blame.
Caught in the net
Of demands and deceits
Dreams decay
Under the weight of obedience.
Too much expectations,
The pressure and intrusion
Block all the way out
To the green garden
Where beauty and freshness bloom.
Like the greedy gluttony of priests
Who seduce the hope of a pilgrim,
The cobwebs of helplessness
And sorry figure the kinsmen spin,
Bring forth all possible ruin.
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.
Matralina Pati
From the dust
Of the drudging earth
We sprouted
Together. .
Our fists clashed
Against the rock.
Palms bled
And eyes burned
Yet we did not speak.
We dared not
Touch the skin.
Still we fought:
Glances flashing
With soulful fire.
Still, we stand
Under the tremors
Of stubborn pulses.
Love is nothing
But the ardour
For a war.
Matralina Pati, is a PhD research scholar working on marginal Indian bhasha literature (UGC Junior Research Fellow), a bilingual poet and a translator from Bankura, West Bengal. Her critical and creative writings have been published on national and international platforms. She has authored a book of translations titled Monsoon Seems Promising This Year (selected poems of postmodern poet Rudra Pati translated from Bengali into English).
Chaitrakana Pati
Even though I had given you
A piece of my land in Heaven
Which I rightfully earned and
You had forcefully taken,
Like the daughters of mine you had stolen
And my beloved cattle you have eaten,
Even though from the beginning
I had taken good care of your children
Even when you had killed and
Abandoned mine without hesitation
Yet, for no valid reason…
You grew your tree of hatred against me.
And it brought in
Centuries of pain;
Still you were
Forgiven.
So, tell me:
Even after repeating the wrongs often
Breaking our sacred pledge, once again
Killing twenty four more of my kins
And scarring my forehead with
The vermillion of blood,
And failing your empty revenge
After the war and bloodshed,
Do you still feel
No regret?
You were a beggar
Before the bigger world.
You knew it, too.
They saw you at
Your nadir.
Tell me, Brother!
What did you get
From trails of blood
Within our tearful rivers?!
My Old Friend!
Chaitrakana Pati, a student of the 10th standard, finds joy in expressing herself through poetry in English. She has a deep appreciation for literature and a quiet passion for painting, both of which inspire her creative journey. Alongside her love for the arts, she enjoys music and has a keen interest in storytelling. She loves nature and enjoys exploring new spheres of knowledge. With a curious mind and a thoughtful approach to creativity, she continues to explore and learn as she hopes to grow as a writer and an artist along the way.
HOW SUDDENLY WE BECOME ORPHANS
Darsana Kalarickal
Through the poplar trees,
the sun smiled—
a clear and radiant day.
In the paddy fields beyond the marsh,
the golden sunlight bloomed.
Amid the slowly settling sheets of mist,
tiny flowers atop the grass blades
kept smiling.
In the thickets of the swamp,
amid the flapping of goose' wings,
and the muddy footprints of waterhens,
the dry leaves wept in distress.
In the distance, the mist-covered
mountain ranges lay merged with clouds,
sinking into laziness.
Beyond them, perhaps the sea was roaring.
A sun, as if melting into the purity
of the vibrant green around me,
suddenly descended
and erased all sights in an instant.
Beloved, where did you vanish?
Wasn’t it I who led you
to the sunflower meadows
to witness the golden sun blooming?
I do not know who brought me
to this heaving pain,
to these roaring tremors.
My love, now that day
appears only as a faded image
in my memory.
As you walked toward the frost-covered fields,
I was sitting beneath the birch trees.
Here, right beside me,
was that sorrowful boy,
wounded all over,
who, just before you,
had passed through with his goats.
How many days have vanished
since our parting—
I cannot remember at all.
He said, when he looked back,
he saw flames blooming
all over your long dress.
And I was lying
under the birch tree.
Beloved,
are all who approach me
mute and deaf?
Everywhere, only silence remains.
Except for the occasional
sound of rolling wheelchairs,
except for the clamped tremors—
nothing else rises here.
Here I am alone...
except for that boy,
no one even notices me.
How can I comfort him
when, with tearful eyes,
he asks, "why nobody broken this place"? only because he can't go back to his village that is destroyed.
How suddenly our lives shatter.
How completely we become orphans.
*Darsana K.R., residing in Venginissery, Thrissur district, is an employee at Venginissery Service Cooperative Bank and a passionate poet. Her published works include the poetry collections *Kavithaye Pranayichaval, Pranayathil Akappettathinte Ezhaam Naal, and Kuldharaayil Oru Pakal; the short story collection Thekkedathamma V/S Ramakavi (co-authored with Dr. Ajay Narayanan); the memoir Kunnirangunna Kothiyormakal; and the poetry study Kavithayude Veraazhangal. Her poems and articles have been featured in various periodicals and online platforms. phone : 9645748219, email darsanakr1973@gmail.com.
Nandini Mitra
Like a melancholic song the sky rumbles,
Amidst dreary, dark weather
Comes rain, the elixir of life,
Monsoon symphony begins.
White rain pours across the dry fields,
My weeping soul sighs a relief,
Thirsty, tired leaves twirl and
Dance when kissed by gentle breeze.
Dotted silver pearls adorn my garden,
Petrichor invigorates my soul, stirs my mind,
Monsoon's music, rhythm divine,
Moving along , without a care in the world.
Rain comes down on tin roofs with the din of
Pit -a-pat , cling and clang,
Downpour rages outside, picks up its beat,
Splashing puddles, flooded streets.
Cheerful melody of monsoon magic fades away,
Azure sky in a majestic array,
How sweet it is to hear nature's drumming,
I'm swayed away by monsoon's symphony.
Nandini Mitra
Time is never enough,
Time will never be enough,
Never enough to hold it back,
What if I desire for more?
It won't be enough,
Time will pass by,
Teasing me, mocking me,
In the lonely zone of my heart
Will rise a storm,
High waves will plunder the mind,
The soul will surrender,
But it won't be enough.
Eyes may swell with tears,
Time cares less,
What if I slow down ,let go
And live with less?
It won't be enough,
Tomorrow again a new dawn,
A new day,
The sun will rise shining through again,
The sky will be blue again
And Tme will have another agenda,
Life's moments will wear a new look,
Pain will linger
But happiness is in moving on,
I'm learning to be ruthless and cope with it.
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.
Swarnaprava Lenka
When the sky wears the color of storms,
and the wind rattles the quiet bones of my courage,
you are there,
not as a hero from a tale,
but as the steady, breathing truth beside me.
You don’t wear crowns or wield swords,
yet somehow you defeat my fears,
with nothing but your voice,
low and calm as evening rain.
In my seasons of breaking,
when I was a glass heart full of cracks,
you held me not to mend me in a hurry,
but to let the pieces learn their way back to each other.
You never asked why I cried,
only sat close enough for silence to speak for us both.
Your hand in mine was not just a touch—
it was an anchor dropped into the deep waters
where I thought I would drown.
You stood beside me when the world turned its back,
your shadow crossing over mine like a shield.
Not once did you let me walk the dark road alone;
your footsteps became the rhythm
that led me toward light.
You have the strange magic
of making the worst days look survivable—
turning despair into something smaller,
almost harmless,
when you are near.
And in the quietest hours,
when even the stars seem too tired to shine,
I know—
if all else falls away,
if the winds tear down every wall,
you will still be there,
my constant in an ever-changing world.
So this poem is not just for love—
it is for gratitude,
for the way you are my calm in chaos,
my warmth in the frost,
my lighthouse in the fog.
If I could gather every sunrise I have ever seen,
I would pour them into your hands,
just to thank you
for being the dawn that rises in my darkest night.
LOOKING BACK AND MOVING FORWARD
Swarnaprava Lenka
I was a girl with heavy skies,
carrying storms behind my eyes,
walking roads both rough and steep,
where shadows gathered dark and deep.
Each day was a mountain, hard to climb,
a battle fought with borrowed time.
The tears were real, the nights were long,
but in my heart, I found a song.
A whisper soft, a quiet flame,
that told me life would not stay the same.
Though troubles came like crashing waves,
I learned to stand, to fight, be brave.
Now when I turn and look behind,
at all the struggles once defined,
I see them smaller, far away—
like clouds that once loomed but couldn’t stay.
Those fears that once felt so immense,
now seem like lessons, quiet, dense.
The pain I carried, brick by brick,
became the strength that made me tick.
And I know this truth without a doubt—
no storm lasts always, it’ll pass out.
The night I faced, so cold and long,
has softened into a distant song.
So now, when new trials come to call,
I meet them standing, proud and tall.
For I remember, clear and true,
how I survived and grew through.
This time, like all the ones before,
will change its shape, will be no more.
And when I look back once again,
I’ll smile at the girl who bore the pain.
For every struggle, every fight,
was just a step toward the light.
And even now, as moments flow,
I know this time, too, will go.
Swornaprava Lenka is a postgraduate student in the Department of English, Utkal University, Bhubaneswar. Her early childhood was spent in a traditional and extremely conservative family.But,it was her “intensive thirst” for poring over literature that brought her success.As her first achievement, She set a record by emerging as the all Odisha Topper in the Common PG Entrance Test(2024)by securing highest mark in English. She made a deliberate to challenge the common structure of the society by critiquing and changing the mindset of contemptible person through her writings.
Dr. Radharani Nanda
My home is dear to me
And my bonding with it so intense.
They say this is just
a temperary asset I possess.
So much love and bonding doesn't make sense.
Somewhere in heaven
My eternal home is waiting
to welcome me at anytime.
I listened to their Whispers,mocking and advice suo motto intently
Illusion of a divine home enveloped me all around slowly and slowly.
My thoughts drifted away from my sweet home
towards the unseen abode in a land unknown.
All my enthusiasim shattered.
I stopped taking care of my home bosom to me once
Faded colour never painted.
Mesmerising garden withered.
Chirping of birds no more heard.
The home lost its splendour
As if ghosts made it their shelter.
With patience I waited.
Days, months and years .
A long span waisted
Oneday whisper from my inner recess alarmed.
"Is it wise to wait
for the call for time infinite?
Do you know the location and way to reach there?
Who will usher you to ur eternal home
When the destination is absolutely unknown."
I woke up from slumber.
Threw away my illusions .
Renovated my home with care.
With colours,antics and amenities it glared.
Chirping of birds heard again
Charisma of the garden regain.
It's air
emanate fragrance of love, peace and serenity
Dear all no more mocking or advice please.
This is my home,my permanent abode where I want to live for eternity.
Dr. Radharani Nanda completed MBBS from SCB Medical college, Cuttack and post graduation in Ophthalmology from MKCG Medical College, Berhampur. She joined in service under state govt and worked as Eye specialist in different DHQ hospitals and SDH. She retired as Director from Health and Family Welfare Department Govt of Odisha. During her service career she has conducted many eye camps and operated cataract surgery on lakhs of blind people in remote districts as well as costal districts of Odisha. She is the life member of AIOS and SOS. She writes short stories and poems in English and Odia. At present she works as Specialist in govt hospitals under NUHM.
Mrs. Setaluri Padmavathi
Numerous lovers of coffee
Always treat it as a toffee
Take it morning and evening
It appears in every meeting.
Coffee berries are picked,
Processed and dried to yield
The seeds are roasted then
Flavor is chosen by men.
The seeds are ground in the mill
People surround for its bill
When the weather is chill
It gives us an aroma and thrill.
The caffeine content in a drink
Causes human health to shrink
All of us surely need to think
Can we replace it with a fruit drink?
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
Dr. Rajamouly Katta
The past I live in, heaven to the core
For sweet memories in full store
It’s the fountain of lovely treasures
For the offer of infinite pleasures
In it I feel young and energetic
More so, robust and romantic
In ageing, I find my life fantastic
More so, agile and majestic
It’s the sport, I turn a boy active
With toy in choice for a play sportive
In my flight to it, I ‘m a bird free
For the honeyed cud, beauty spree
To remind me of joys of childhood
More so, the spring of life, my choice
These three stages, I love to voice
To cherish the past in utmost love,
Recalling these as the treasure-trove
It’s the beehive of Amrit substance
At the heart of a flower of fragrance
It’s pivotal in keeping me vitalizing
Like an antidote ever rejuvenating
I fly to the past, for the joy revival
Though it is against time’s reversal
My heart overflows as a joy-thrall
No wilt and whither, no fall as in Fall
All are fresh on stems in lush green
Heaven on earth for ever in sheen
I’m the lover of the past for the treasure
Recalled ever in aging for sheer pleasure
I learnt how to go against the wind blow
It’s the way to swim against water flow
It’s the truth ever in echo not to miss
With a view to enlighten by its bliss
It’s the past solely beauty for gaiety
I love to recollect for my tranquillity
I live in the past, the worthiest place
To recall ever those happiest days.
Dr. Rajamouly Katta
Musings are fantastic
Fanciful as well as artful
Away from outer senses
As a concealed treasure
Musings dawn
At the sight inspiring
And undergo poetic prowess
In the poet’s mind for a poem
With Beauty for readers’ gaiety
Like a sculpture that has form
When chiselled in the skill
In the imaginative process
In the mind of a sculptor
Like the texture of a filigree
With the variety of threads
Interwoven to shine
In the rainbow tinctures
In the mind of a weaver,
Like the earth in creation,
For the mirth of flora and fauna
The creator knows wonders
In the imaginative process
The sculpture of musings,
Risen from the poet’s mind,
In the poem, the word picture
Gushed from the pen.
Musings are shaped into a poem
Like a sculpture from rock
Like an ornament from gold
Like a goblet from clay.
Dr. Rajamouly Katta, M.A., M. Phil., Ph. D., Professor of English by profession and poet, short story writer, novelist, writer, critic and translator by predilection, has to his credit 64 books of all genres and 344 poems, short stories, articles and translations published in journals and anthologies of high repute. He has so far written 3456 poems collected in 18 anthologies, 200 short stories in 9 anthologies, nine novels 18 skits. Creative Craft of Dr. Rajamouly Katta: Sensibilities and Realities is a collection of articles on his works. As a poet, he has won THIRD Place FIVE times in Poetry Contest in India conducted by Metverse Muse rajamoulykatta@gmail.com
Sreedharan Parokode
Beggars are seen in the corridors
of the house
peeping through the windows
on some days,
according to the innocent people.
The beggars may be
looking for the keys kept secret,
by the house owner, went out for the market.
They take utmost care in their 'profession' and no 'nuisance'
to the neighbours.
When in the light,
they are perfectly alright
and no room for suspicion
about their work.
And, as the day bid farewell to
darkness, their vigour is
doubled, and they are on
their 'duty' of calmness.
One day, a police vehicle
was seen in the
Courtyard of the house, and
went silently with two men
with their masks and
some weapons.!
Were they the workers
enquired about job on the
other day?
P.L.Sreedharan Parokode is a bi-lingual poet and lyricist from Malappuram district, Kerala. He has a Master's degree in English literature and Population Studies and a Post Graduate Diploma in Parental Education. Sreedharan has thirty books of poetry to his credit, including 'Weeping Womb', 'Slum Flowers,'Mahatma Gandhi' 'Nelson Mandela',Poems', 'Don't mum Please' etc. He has also written songs for professional dramas, for albums, songs for competitions, devotional songs etc. He has written songs for animation film also.
Sreedharan has attended various literary conferences in India and abroad. He presented his poems at World Congress of Poets, in Taiwan, 2015, China, 2018, and literary conference in Serbia, 2007.
He has received awards and honours from various organisations, such as, Sahitya shree Award, Sahitya Shiromani Award, Shan E Adab Award etc. He has also received an Hony.Doctorate from the World Academy of Art and Culture
Sreedharan is currently engaged in Doctoral Research in Population Studies from Annamalai University. Earlier he was working in the Administrative wing of the University of Calicut.
Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Goldfish in a sunken bowl,
comes in our dream many nights.
There was one in our life
many years back,
when our baby was small
and took a fancy to her
in a shop in the mall.
We brought her home
and put her in a colourful bowl,
they became close friends,
our baby and the goldfish,
she used to tell her friend
all her secrets,
tales from her school,
her fights and heart breaks.
The goldfish would go round and round
in her bowl, telling our baby,
this is how life would be,
moving in circles of joy and sadness,
and everything would even out,
to become a goldfish, happy and carefree.
Our baby grew up and left home,
to find a new world
in wide-eyed wonder,
The goldfish pined for her
and one day went away
to a different world
of beauty and eternity.
Today she comes in our dreams
and brings our baby with her.
Together they play again,
and share their tales in gentle whisper.
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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