hall of poets international ezine, jun-jul 2016
DESCRIPTION
HALL OF POETS INTERNATIONAL EZINE, JUN-JUL 2016 FEATURING MASSIMILIANO RASO.TRANSCRIPT
-
Rs. 100/-
-
2 www.hallofpoets.com
Copyright 2016 HALL OF POETS
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or
transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the
publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and
certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission
requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions coordinator, at email address below.
Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information
contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or
omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of
information contained within.
The magazine is not for sale and can be downloaded from HALL OF POETS
community on Google Plus or HALL OF POETS page on Facebook, or asked for a
copy by writing to us on: [email protected]
Editor-in-Chief: Dr. PRERNA SINGLA
Joint - Editor & Owner: PULKIT MOHAN SINGLA
Associate Editor- SEEMA TABASSUM.
COVER PICTURE: IMMA BRIGANTE
EDITION: TWELFTH (JUN-JUL, 2016)
**DISCLAIMER**
.................................................................................................................................
HALL OF POETS Digital magazine is the property of Hall Of Poets community on Google Plus and is protected by
the International Copyright Laws. The poems/articles are published under the name with which the poet/writer is
active in the Hall Of Poets online community. The publisher (Hall Of Poets), authors and contributors reserve their
rights with regard to copyright of their work. Although Hall Of Poets considers its source reliable and verifies as
much data as possible, Hall Of Poets makes no representations, warranties, express or implied, as to the
completeness, accuracy, or appropriateness of the information, data, advertisements, graphics, authenticity of
profiles/poems/articles, copyright infringement or responsibility of any other content contained in any Hall Of
Poets digital magazine or webpage, including but not limited to the Hall Of Poets online community, blogs, and
other email newsletters, and any other social networking platform produced, owned or managed by Hall Of
Poets. Each member/artist himself/herself takes full responsibility of the authenticity of their work/ profiles.
Content produced by Hall Of Poets may from time to time include technical inaccuracies or typographical errors.
Graphics used are under fair use policy and not for commercial purposes; the artist/designer claims no right to own
the graphics that are taken from the internet. The content of each poem/article is the sole expression/opinion of
its writer/author and not necessarily that of the publisher. No warranties or guarantees are expressed or implied by
the publishers choice to include any of the content in this volume. Neither the publisher not the individual author(s) shall be liable for any physical, psychological, emotional, financial or commercial damages, including, but
not limited to special, incidental, consequential or other damages. Readers are responsible for their own choices,
actions and results. The advertisements/ advertised banners on the Hall Of Poets magazine have no influence on
editorial content or presentation. The posting of particular banners does not imply endorsement of the product
(so) or the company selling them by Hall Of Poets magazine or its editors. Hall Of Poets magazine may contain
links to websites operated by other parties. These links are provided purely for promotional purpose. Such links do
not imply Hall Of Poets magazines endorsement of material on any other site and Hall Of Poets magazine disclaims all liability with regard to your access of such linked websites. In case of dispute, Jurisdiction of Gurgaon
(Haryana), India applies.
-
3 www.hallofpoets.com
FESTIVAL OFFER!
BOOK YOUR HALL TODAY
AND ENJOY CATERING & DECORATION AS YOU WISH.
STARTING at Rs. 1,00,000/- ONLY
CALL TO BOOK: +91-9818666201
Lavita Palace Sector-1o, Gurgaon
India. (122001)
-
4 www.hallofpoets.com
From the editors desk
-
5 www.hallofpoets.com
-
6 www.hallofpoets.com
KASHMIR
My Sigri burnt the beams of Wood
And my hut turned to coal
Devoured the foundations rut
Kept my house standing in cold.
The dunes of snow turned crimson red
Soaked in blood of all
The singing breezes screaming dead
As corses turned to corpses old
Aura that witnessed tip toed steps
Echoed with shots and roars
The friendly faces turned fiend
Bullets the very allies hold.
And my Sigri burnt the beams of wood
My hut just turned to coal.
Dr. PRERNA SINGLA, 2016
-
7 www.hallofpoets.com
-
8 www.hallofpoets.com
PRAYER TO THE MASTER!
The master weaver weaves
The strings of truth and lies
In a web of life, disguised
As he does, he smiles
O ye Master weaver!
Weave my web with a golden thread
Paper thin yet resilient
Sturdy yet emollient
The master potter pots
The vessels made of clay clods
Moulded on the wheel, of life
As he does, he sculpts the pods
O ye Master potter!
Chisel my clay with your sharpest nail
Hardships and struggle yet
Of the sculptures I become the best
The master Gardner tends
The beautiful blooming gardens
Blossoming in seasons, of life
As he does, he weeds plantains
-
9 www.hallofpoets.com
O ye Master Gardener!
Tend the garden of my life with love
Weeding out the negativities
Let fragrant it blossom.
PULKIT MOHAN SINGLA, 2016-01-31
-
10 www.hallofpoets.com
HALL OF POETS Wishes you all
A
Very happy
And blessed
Eid-Ul-Fittar
-
11 www.hallofpoets.com
The Massimiliano Raso
Interview with Dr. Prerna Singla
(Chief - Editor Hall Of Poets)
English Translation By Anca M. Bruma
MASSIMILIANO RASO
Photo credits: Imma Brigante
Dear readers,
Today we have with us Massimiliano Raso, artist from Formia - Italy, the
Vice-President and Art Director of Pablo Neruda Cultural Association -
Italy. He has accumulated several degrees at the department of History of
Arts in Naples Federico II University, Foreign Languages and Literature at
Naples University LOrientale; dance hip hop and Jazz at IALS
(Entertainment and arts studies centre) in Rome; Digital Journalism and
-
12 www.hallofpoets.com
Social Media Marketing in Bari; Caribbean Dance at FITD (Italian
Technicians Dance Sport Federation) in Rome; English language at the
British Institutes school of Taranto; and a degree on Modern History on
the historical aspects of the festivals in Italy. He is also Artistic Director of
the Festival KIBATEK 39 Italy, Global Poetry and ART Festival.
Massimiliano Raso also collaborates with the editorial staff of RAI 1 of
Dancing with the stars editions 9, 10 and Dancing with the stars 11 on
the road. He has attended various art juries including the FIESTA, the
BOLOGNASAL SAFESTIVAL, the GD AWARDS, the NATIONAL
FESTIVAL OF SONG OF THE GIRO DORO, the ART PHOTO
CONTEST, the reality WE ARE IN SCENE ON THURSDAY, the
CANTASHOW To radio and television programs as an expert and
Columnist.
Photo credits: Imma Brigante
-
13 www.hallofpoets.com
Ciao Massimiliano, un piacere essere con te oggi.
Dr. Prerna Singla: How will you define Dance and the Art of dance?
Massimiliano Raso: Dancing is like a magical ART! Personally I cannot
imagine a world without the art of moving the body, without being able
to dance and express yourself freely with the body and the mind that
performs the steps and gestures. Dancing is also a little how to love, it
is an innate feeling, a feeling of wellbeing that envelops you and gives
you oxygen to breathe.
Dr. Prerna Singla: Please share something about your journey as one of
the Founding member and art director at Pablo Neruda Cultural
Association?
Massimiliano Raso: Pablo Neruda CulturalAssociation is a young
Cultural Association in Taranto / Italy, of which I am honoured to be part
of, both as Artistic Director and Vice President, as well as a person who
believes entirely in the power of the culture. I believe that in this
historical period we should provide hope, especially to the young
generation, to live in a better society, because culture helps to change the
world indeed. In addition to some great projects, the cultural association
also brought The Global Poetry Festival in Taranto / Italy on February
2016, under the name KIBATEK 39, where poets/authors from various
parts of the globe were awarded. As well, the cultural association awards
the excellence of different artists and various forms of art during Neruda
Awards on June 2016, for the ones who see culture as an opportunity to
walk together and make artistic dreams come true.
Massimiliano Raso
-
14 www.hallofpoets.com
Dr. Prerna Singla: It is said that Natyashastra or knowledge of act/dance is
considered as one of the highest form of spiritual practice (Sadhna). Do
you also feel so? Please share your views about this.
The Natyasastra of Bharata, presents the dramatic arts, with a detailed
theory of the genre performative "Natja" in which dance and music are
not just mere ornaments. Interesting is the fact that there is a lot of
attention and dedication in putting in place this art form: the text
describes four types of acting, from that relating to the movements of the
body, speech, costumes and make-up and the highest, relative to the
expression of emotions through slight movements of the lips or
eyebrows. The dance, also in reference to Natyasastra, is very spiritual
choreutic, not only in content but also in the feeling and in being dancers. We must search for the sense of beauty that leads us to the Divine feeling.
As a dancer I find myself mirrored a lot in this culture.
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
-
15 www.hallofpoets.com
Dr. Prerna Singla: Please share your experiences at Dancing with the
stars. What were the moments that you cherished there?
I had the pleasure to collaborate at journalistic level, with the editorial
stuff of the television program Rai 1, the most important TV channel in
Italy. I interviewed many masters in dance, who were paired with the so-
called VIP actors, singers, comedians, writing for the
Giornaledelladanza.com newspaper, a leader in print media in Italy,
providing critique articles about the art of dancing. In the last edition I
interviewed the queen of Italian television, Milly Carlucci, the presenter
of talent show, a great entertainer and a nice person. As well I
interviewed the great dancers such as Samantha Togni or President of the
jury Carolyn Smith, I shall say that all of them were very nice to me. It
has been a growth and development experience for me on both levels:
personal and artistic.
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
At the sets of "Dancing with the Stars" (Ballando con le stelle)
-
16 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
-
17 www.hallofpoets.com
Tell us about your life and life time experiences?
I am a normal person who loves life with all its contradictions. I like to
do sports and have many friends. Especially I try to devote lot of my time
to my son Mattia, 5 years old, an exceptional child, he is my life.
Dr. Prerna Singla: You are an expert at history of dances, tell us what
according to you is the basic element in the origin of dance forms, that is
common to all dances irrespective of countries/states or forms.
It 'been said that "dance is the mother of all arts" and indeed it is. This
form of art, cultural and traditional spread across the world and old as
the world itself. The first choral events, however, were very elementary:
reproducing the elements of nature, everyday life and rites. The dance is
very similar on each place on Earth, of course with some differences
according to various belief systems, customs and history of the peoples.
I believe, however, that from the way it is transmitted by means of the
moving body, the way of gestures and steps (regardless of its geography)
determine a large variety of emotions, nonverbal and many social
meanings messages everywhere, in all world cultures.
Dr. Prerna Singla: Do you believe that love influences all forms of art?
I believe that without love you cannot even dance. It is important to put
strong passion in these body movements. The ones who think can dance
in a detached manner, with no emotions they are not on the right path
as they do not perform the right content of dance.
-
18 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Imma brigante
Dr. Prerna Singla: Who would you give credit of your success?
I shall thank my parents for giving me this passion, this creativity, this
versatile aspect of performing art. And of course friends and experts in
the dance show field for giving me trust and confidence that I am able to
do so.
Dr. Prerna Singla: You have judged so many dance and art festivals and
shows. As a jury on what unique criteria do you select the acts of the
participants?
It is not easy to give critical judgments. It all depends on which
manifestation of art or entertainment you shall judge. Moreover, the art
criticism is the subject of the academic study and it should be held by a
person who is well-trained to provide such a professional feedback.
-
19 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
Dr. Prerna Singla: With increased incorporation of gymnastics into dance
acts now-a-days, do you feel the essence of dance is somehow lost? Or
has it improved?
Actually the historical, cultural and folkloric essence has been lost little.
Especially in the twentieth century it has been given too much attention
to the competitive side of the dance, creating too many difficulties for the
dancers themselves, a time when many dances were born. It should be
kept separate and distinct these two sides of the dance, one is sport the
other one is art.
Dr. Prerna Singla: What advice would you give to our readers who wish
to persue Dance and ART as their career?
-
20 www.hallofpoets.com
You need passion, strength and courage in life! You shall never give up,
even in front of your personal adversities. If you really think you can
pursue a goal that is not venal, as in the case of the dance, then you have
to go all out and get going without getting tired.
I have been a student of dance for about 12 yrs.There are some
controlled aspects of a dance, while some are uncontrolled. As dance
originated, it represented cultures, beliefs, festivals, mythological stories,
love, and even destruction (Tandava). In the world of poetry and music,
how important do you feel is the dance today?
I noticed that dancing is like poetry, each movement represents a
word. I believe there is a strong intimate connection between poetry
and dance itself. I would even dare to say that you cannot separate these
two art forms. The body movements, winding steps, the gesture of a
hand, if they cannot be counted among the verses of a romantic poem,
then they are irrelevant.
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
-
21 www.hallofpoets.com
Dr. Prerna Singla: What is KIBATEK all about? Please share your
experiences from KIBATEK 39.
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
The KIBATEK is a Turkish Literary Foundation, founded in 1998 in
Turkey/Izmir with the participation of 12 countries. KIBATEK carried out
international activities/festivals in 41 countries in the past 18 years,
through literary communication and cooperation. KIBATEK proposed in
2015 to Pablo Neruda Cultural Association to organize its first edition in
Italy, the 39th in the world, of Global Poetry and ART Festival, in
Taranto (Italy).We brought 22 poets from every corner of the globe.
During gala day, all the awarded poets performed their own creations
with artistic interludes like dance, singing and music. It was a marvel
experience; it seemed like living a fairy tale. As Art Director of the
festival, one of my major responsibilities was to provide great
performers, quality singers, musicians, dancers, the entire artistic platform.
I shall add that it was one of the most extraordinary life-experience!
-
22 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
Dr. Prerna Singla: Some people say that good dance is about the correct
moves, while some say it is expression that enables the spectator to
understand the theme without even knowing music or words, while
some others say it is rhythm and repetition. What do you say?
It is not easy to have the correct dance movements; it takes time,
dedication and constant study of this art. The body does not lie. Vittoria
Ottolenghi, one of the major Italian dance critics said that dance is an
ambiguous art compared to other forms of art, when the dance is
finished, there is no continuation. I always prefer few technical details,
but the harmonious ones, lots of knowledge as basis as well listening to
your own body. One body move will not be the same in Time and
Space.
-
23 www.hallofpoets.com
Massimiliano Raso with an Artist .
Dr. Prerna Singla: You wish to pursue intercultural exchange between the
East and the West. Tell us more about your dream?
The dance could be born anywhere in the world. Or, maybe the World
itself created the dance giving to the human beings the opportunity to
express themselves through dancing. More than ever now, it is imperative
the intercultural exchange between West and East, between an Occident
which looks towards a future more and more hectic and an Orient
eager to give space to its own creative and artistic evolvement. My
dream is to see a great brotherhood between different nations, without
borders, with no hurdles. I dream of a world full with Peace, Harmony
and Serenity.
-
24 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Imma Brigante
Dr. Prerna Singla: Do you feel that the West has still a lot to learn from
East and vice versa? If yes, what do you feel the two cultures need to
learn to initiate a cultural bonding?
The news coming from the East, at times do not reflect the entire truth.
There is still much to be done for achieving common and indivisible
goals, either from one side or another one. I believe it is not that difficult
to have and live in a globalized world under a mutual understanding of
harmony and cultural connectedness. We are ONE human race and we
need to come to this understanding and acceptance. And embrace this
reality.
-
25 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
MASSIMILIANO RASO
-
26 www.hallofpoets.com
Dr. Prerna Singla: What are your future plans in life?
Artistically speaking I have had the most wonderful satisfactions of my
life. Soon I shall dedicate my efforts for the second edition of KIBATEK
Global Poetry Festival in Italy, to Pablo Neruda Awards, to the cultural
association with all its artistic manifestations, to carry out my dance
shows activities and journalism about dance as I truly enjoy writing. For
the future, I wish to have more tranquility.
Picture courtesy: Massimiliano Raso
What is your success mantra?
Success is something that touches various spheres of life of a person. We
can feel satisfied with little and still consider that we attained the success.
We can achieve high levels in our career while living in less favorable
conditions. However, the true wealth stands in being happy with what
life gives to us, feeling good about yourself and of course with others.
-
27 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Imma Brigante
What do you think about Hall of Poets International ezine and what
message would you give to our readers?
I often follow Hall of Poets as I consider it as being a dynamic and
optimum magazine. I wish to the readers of this magazine, lots of serenity
and happiness and most of all the HOPE to live in a peaceful world. And
of course, to keep reading Hall of Poets magazine.
Massimiliano Raso
Vice-President and ART Director:
(Pablo Neruda Cultural Association Taranto / Italy)
Dance critique and instructor
http://massimilianoraso.webnode.it/
-
28 www.hallofpoets.com
P.S. ~ The questionnaire is copyrighted and the intellectual property of HALL OF POETS. The first publication rights to the interview rest with HALL OF POETS. The interview can be reproduced only with prior explicit permission of HALL OF POETS and the interviewed. A clear bold mention and ping link to the original interview along with the name of the original interviewer, Dr. Prerna Singla, as well as the interviewee must be made when reproducing the interview in part, as an excerpt or as a whole. English Translation By Anca M. Bruma. Picture courtesy Massimiliano Raso. The individual
artists are mentioned in the Photography. HOP claims no copyright to the pictures in the
interview.
-
29 www.hallofpoets.com
JOHN
by Helenka
"Congratulations! You have a daughter!" said the nurse in
his direction through the slightly open door.
"How is my wife?" His question bounced off the already
closed door. John felt pride and happiness.
After an hour the doctor came to see John.
"I congratulate you heartily. You have a beautiful, healthy
daughter. The weight is 3200 grams. Big baby despite the
slight figure of your wife. There were minor complications
during childbirth but it is all good now."
"When can I see my girls?"
"In a few hours. Please go home now, eat something and get
rest. You have spent all night at the hospital. Visiting time
is at four p.m. Goodbye."
John stood for a moment watching at the window and
-
30 www.hallofpoets.com
wondered about what the doctor just said. He didn't want to
go home. He wanted to see Barbara and his newborn
daughter. They came to the hospital at two a.m. Barbara
was so weak, in so much pain, and he could not help her. He
was walking down the stairs, his right hand in his trouser
pocket and propping his leg. Since he could remember, that
way was easier for him to walk.
The sky was so blue - A promise for a beautiful day. When
John came to the main street the town hall bell was just
striking eight o'clock. He went to the church to thank God
for a happy delivery. At the bridge he had to stop for a
while. He already felt so tired. He watched a barge filled
with coal then he ascended to the grocery store for milk. In
the bakery next door, he bought fragrant, warm bread rolls.
Very slowly he climbed to the third floor. It was there where
their nest was. He set the water for coffee, spread a roll
with jam, and finally sat down in a cosy armchair. The
smell of chicory coffee filled the entire flat.
He did not go to bed. He was in the chair and just covered
his legs with a plaid throw. Fatigue reigned over his body.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember how it happened
that he found his luck; how he met Barbara and believed he
fell in love.
In his childhood there was no indication that he would have
-
31 www.hallofpoets.com
his own home and his family. He was one of those kids who
in the fifties caught polio. He began walk independently
very late and it was only thanks to the persistence and
perseverance of his grandmother. She carried him on her
back and brought him to school. She was carrying him up
and down the stairs. Stubbornly she told him to practice.
Nothing was able to deter her. She repeated always that
since she survived Siberia and the long way back home,
nothing could stop her now.
In the primary school he felt very lonely. At the beginning
the kids teased him, laughed at him, but his grandmother
quickly solved the problem. He was the only disabled child
in the school. No one understood him, no one knew how he
felt lonely. His escape from the surrounding world into
books. He read a lot. He read everything he could grab.
Quite soon he began to wear glasses. Thanks to a wonderful
teacher who had real passion, he got easily through to high
school.
In high school there were two other boys his age, also with
paralysis of the legs. Both were less fortunate than him.
They moved on crutches. Then he began to fully appreciate
what his grandma, Angela, did for him.
He finished high school as a best student. Exams in to the
university were a mere formality.
-
32 www.hallofpoets.com
In October, at the start of the academic year, he met
Barbara. She was a pretty, petite girl with long raven-black
hair. She was a little bit confused. She came to study in
Opole from Kedzierzyn. And from the very beginning she
treated John with great, unfeigned affection.
In the second year of study, he buried his grandmother and
a few months later his mother. His younger sister, right
after graduating from high school, got married and moved
out. For the first time in his life he was completely alone.
When he returned home, a strange feeling of emptiness filled
his heart. Just Barbara's friendship helped him survive a
difficult period of mourning.
He could not remember how and when they became a
couple. But he remembered very well the first time she
kissed him. He remembered how in October, after the start
of the fourth year of study, Barbara moved into his flat. She
lit up his life. She brought with her joy and love.
Meddlesome neighbours wagged their tongues at them. Once
their gossip reached Barbara's ears. With delight she vented
herself on the one of them. She knew that it would be passed
on later.
-
33 www.hallofpoets.com
"Ms Willow! You should be ashamed. Why are you pushing
your nosy nose into our lives? Who gave you right do to
insult me and John? I do not wonder that your husband left.
I am not surprised that you have no friends. I warn you
today for the first and last time. I do not want to hear
again any rumours; otherwise you will bitterly regret it.
My advice is that you start to see the man, not his
disability. Good-bye!"
And this finally just broke off the Hydra's head. All gossip
stopped for good.
John graduated as a best student again. Immediately after
the graduations, he was offered a job in the City Hall.
Barbara was proud of her diploma, too. She found a job in
the library.
More often they talked about marriage. Barbara's parents
were horrified by her choice, but when they saw how John
loved her, and cared about her, they began to accept him -
though not without resistance.
Two years after the wedding, Barbara and John announced
that they were expecting their child.
-
34 www.hallofpoets.com
At four P.M John was back in the hospital. Dressed in a
white coat was waiting at the door of the ward to meet
Barbara. He could not wait to hug his new treasure and kiss
Barbara. And thank her once again, and certainly not the
last time for everything she gave him.
The door finally swung open. A few impatient fathers tried
to break through at the same time.
He found Barbara while feeding the baby. She looked
beautiful as Madonna with the Child.
John froze motionless, staring at his luck, and now great
double luck.
******
-
35 www.hallofpoets.com
**********************
- ( ) *****************************
,
,
- ,
: ,
' - ' ,
" - " ,
,
- ,
,
," - " , ,
, , ,
, ,
" "
-
-" , ."
-" -
, , ,
-
36 www.hallofpoets.com
, - ,
,
,
, ,
,
- ,
,
, ?
,
, - ?
- ,
, ,
, -
- ,
- - ,
, -
, , "
Keshav dubey
https://keshavdubey.blogspot.in/
-
37 www.hallofpoets.com
INDIA IS BURNING!
Hey look! Our mountains are on fire !!
The tapestry of greens all torn and mangled
Hundreds of hectares, a smouldering graveyard!
Hey silly, its up in the North..
A trifling little thing..
What does it have to do with us?
Good heavens! Cant you see,
Those blazing flames torching the skies?
Black carbon from the smog and ash
Sends mercury soaring; Melting the glaciers,
Polluting the rivers, Just as we speak!
Black carbon you say ? Never heard of it !
It should be nothing of consequence
What does it have to do with us ?
Look at those whimpering fawns, suckling the teats
Of a dead mother who braved the fire !
Those charred nestlings in agony,
Forced to be left behind by a scalded soul !
The palette of colours smudged grey,
An eerie silence drifts through the valley
Oh ! The raging inferno has spared none !
Your words make me sad !
Dont you have anything better to say ?
-
38 www.hallofpoets.com
After all, its so far away
What could we have done ?
Cupidity of ever widening infrastructure,
The dams and the mines;
Quixotic plans of phenomenal growth,
Ruthless patrons of unabated habitat loss !
Rise in tiger numbers,
More fiction than fact, the experts claim !
Whilst it is this that the truth bemoans:
More tigers were poached in a single quarter,
Than the whole of last year !
You heartless creature !!
Millions die of hunger here
And you choose to cry over a striped cat ?
Its just a minor little fact,
What does it have to do with us ?
The worst drought of the decade is here
Drying the wells, parching the land;
Even the fortune of the monsoons
Impotent to quench the thirsting land !
Killer heat waves on a spree,
Sweltering cities and blistering villages see
Unprecedented spike in temperatures as never before !
Oh yeah ! Just a minor bother,
Summers are hotter this year ;
Lets buy an A/C , all shall be fine !
-
39 www.hallofpoets.com
Our metros have turned,
Gyrating concrete jungles
Gagged with dust,
Choked with lethal fumes of exhaust;
Lakes fed by sewage, spew up toxic foams
No noteworthy drainage systems in place,
Floods, a disaster-in-waiting !
Oh yes ! That is so true !
But what can we do ?
As we speak the seas are surging
Inch by inch,
The rising tides gobble up the shore;
The land we call home,
Yours and mine, is waning forever !
Like a house of cards,
Our world is crumbling down!
Oh please ! please
Let us do something !
Oh well ! Perhaps we were held up
In denial, a tad too long!
For I cant breathe, my friend,
Do hand me that bottle of fresh air !!
Stranded by Natures fury
Plans of millions will go awry
-
40 www.hallofpoets.com
Who will save us from Her wrath ?
For Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned !!!
Rekha Padinjattakathu
#WorldEnvironmentDay
-
41 www.hallofpoets.com
OH MRIGNAYNEE!
Oh Mrignaynee!
Thy visage epitomizes the transcendence of timeless beauty
If only thy eyes flutter once
The bees lose their direction
And the breeze its aim
Thy eyes hold countless stars
Yet to be discovered
If only thy eye-lasses flicker once
The ships lose their navigation
And the fighting men their aim
Oh Mrignaynee!
Thy one glance
Has the power to enslave proud men
From Afghanistan to India
And Pakistan to Spain
Avijeet Musafir Das
-
42 www.hallofpoets.com
WHERE PROMISES WERE MADE TO BE BROKEN
With the breeze she was taken,
All her emotions got awaken,
Later she realised she was all broken ..
She never received her love token.
Her smile was stolen.
Like a shooting star she was all fallen.
She closed her eyes.. she saw life
WHERE PROMISES WERE MADE TO BE BROKEN
Ankita Patnail
-
43 www.hallofpoets.com
MIRZA GHALIB
Article By Urooj Murtaza
Mirza Ghalib. Picture from Google Images.
Dabeer-ul-Mulk, Najm-ud-daulah Mirza Asadullah
Baig khan "Ghalib", (born December 27, 1797, Agra India
died February 15, 1869, Delhi) the preeminent Indian poet of
his time writing in Persian, equally renowned for poems,
letters, and prose piece.. Is in URDU.
Born into an aristocratic family, Ghlib passed his youth in
luxury. Subsequently, he was granted a small pension by the
British government but had to struggle against penury and
hardships. Recognition finally came in 1850, when he was
appointed poet laureate to the
last Mughal emperor, Bahadur shah II.
Ghlibs best poems were written in three forms:
Ghazal (lyric), Masnavi(moralistic or mystical parable),
-
44 www.hallofpoets.com
and Qasidah (panegyric). His critics accused him of writing
in an obscure and ornamental style of Persian
incomprehensible to the masses. His verses affirm Gods
omnipotence while questioning the misery of the
phenomenal world.
Mirza Ghalib is considered to be the most famous and
influential poet of the Urdu Jagat. The popularity of Ghalib
is not consolidated to India and Pakistan only but he is
renowned across the world. His Ghazals are placed as most
difficult and considered to be placed at the depth of Urdu
literature He was a person who worked regardless of day to
day livelihood, he spend life either on patronage, credit or
generosity of his friends. Ghalib wrote his ghazals in Persian
as well as in Urdu but his Urdu ghazals were much more
popular. It is believed that he started his writing work
earlier at the age of 19. As his ghazals were comprised of
highly Persianised Urdu, it was hard for vast majority of
people to understand his urdu ghazlas without extra effort
aah ko chahyay ik umr asar honay tak
Kaun Jeeta Hai Teri Zulf Ke Sar Hone Tak
Daam Har Mauj Main Hai Halqa-E-Sadkaam-E-Nahang
Dekhe Kya Guzre Hai Qatre Pe Gauhar Hone Tak
Aashiqi Sabr-Talab Aur Tamanna Betaab
Dil Ka Kya Rang Karun Khoon-E-Jigar Hone Tak
Ham Ne Maana Ke Tagaaful Na Karoge Lekin
Khaak Ho Jaayenge Ham Tum Ko Khabar Hone Tak
-
45 www.hallofpoets.com
Partav-E-Khoor Se Hai Shabnam Ko Fanaa Ki Taalim
Main Bhi Hoon Ek Inaayat Ki Nazar Hone Tak
Yak Nazar Besh Nahin Fursat-E-Hasti Gaafil
Garmi-E-Bazm Hai Ik Raqs-E-Sharar Hone Tak
Gam-E-Hasti Ka Asad Kis Se Ho Juz Marg Ilaaj
Shamma Har Rang Main Jalti Hai Sahar Hone Tak
*****
-
46 www.hallofpoets.com
BEING POETRY
Article by Sheikha A.
Poetry is transportation. Where many definitions have been
and continue to be penned about explaining or stating what
poetry is about, each one being substantial in its own, my
idea of poetry is meditation. I started writing poetry from
my teenage years, being heavily inspired by the classical
poets like Byron, Gibran, Rumi, etc. leaning on the spiritual
and philosophical hills of expressing, and the idea of finding
a connection with the universes expanse with the current
situations of my life always found me contriving towards
greater or deeper meaning. Poetry is not meant to be
dissected even though, it is for various academic purposes,
but as a personal stance, I prefer to live the verses like
natural breathing. To leave the mysteries of a poet intact,
without depriving the author of their secrets, poetry can be
understood, embraced and adopted in its purest form which
is to be simply read and accepted. The art of expression is
free, whether poeming, painting, song writing, sculpting,
collaging, crafting, etc. the basis remains one, and that is
discovery. Allowing a creation to emerge from your mind
and soul is a true release of energy. Most creations have
found much criticism in being either positive or negative in
its form, but if society does set barriers of expressions for
reasons of curbing controversy or harmonizing ethics, and
if we grant them for being correct in their enforcements, the
beauty of an artist is in breaching those boundaries and
attaining their expressive freedom through surreal, subtle,
or even metaphysical forms.
-
47 www.hallofpoets.com
Art is a vessel that can accommodate the bad, good, ugly,
dark, evil, graceful, beautiful, and compassion all into one.
It can hold each of those elements together in aesthetic
cohesiveness whether fragmented, refined, coarse or
absolute. A person should never stop expressing, even in
non-artistic methods; one can create and build, the
important aspect of it being in action. Dormancy can lead
to several deaths of a single idea that can produce a sense of
stoicism leading a person inwards into their own cyclones,
which ultimately results in destruction. It can be argued
that the most active minds could be the most destructive
too, which is true, but there is always an immanent
suppression of some kind towards or about some system that
bred like a sore, never having found an outlet for releasing.
Creative expression is a study of psychology in itself. I have
been able to comprehend many poems much better now
including those that I studied during school years from
having first understood character and behavioural sciences
of conduct. Most times, we were asked to study into the
background of classical poets in our education system to
gain insight about their life and experiences which lead
them to write what they wrote, and understand the social
and political hardships that influenced their writing. The
romantic poets of those eras, too, had some element of
imbalance in their writing that extended beyond just the
faade of separation culminating from unrequited love.
-
48 www.hallofpoets.com
Every piece of expression, in any genre or form, has a
hidden story the unknown and the unknown-able
regardless of the deepest meditation or thought we subject it
too. Poetry, for me, in particular, has always been a telling
of secrets without offering too many details. The
metaphysics of it is in about being attuned to the allures
and curiosities of the higher realms, and wanting to
understand how our life can affect the whole, or vice versa.
There is an undeniable coercion of self-discipline by and on
oneself, to sit amid the whirlpool and increase the ratio of
patience as the whirlpool rages from the harshest to mildest
mode, eventually dying down like a mist settling on the
ground around us whereupon we sit. It is in that short lived
moment where the whirlpool takes a break before gathering
dust into swirls is when we see the light or epiphany or
truth or answer, or whatever it was we sought.
In my writing of poetry, I have oscillated between various
styles of writing, becoming easily enamoured by words I
read from emerging or established writers, looking at
artworks or reading about peoples lifestyles, preferences,
appropriations, tendencies or even opinions, and always
wanting to find an association or a way to relate to be able
to co-exist even in the massive or smallest of differences,
and looking for a balance of respect that can run mutually,
if not in acceptance of anothers culture or religious
representations, but in understanding their way of life, is
what every form of Arts should ideally be about.
-
49 www.hallofpoets.com
Poetry is one form of arts that is most intricate because of
its tool which is words. A poem can actually fail if it
doesnt deliver its image or essence. The same could be
applied to other forms as well, but poetry has a duty to
submit. To be able to arouse, captivate, invoke and evoke all
through written renditions, connotations, suppositions,
presumptions and alterations, all of this using words. Words
are studied, and in many cases worshipped. Words are like
a mass of clay in a potters wheel. Through words births the
written act and form of poetry.
My poems have dwelled on many subjects, but mostly a
search for belonging, emancipations, spirituality and love
finding a connection between the latter two. Only recently,
since the past year, that I began to wallow in the dark arts,
and the evil that motivates people towards degeneration
that Ive written many poems trying to depict every
possible side of it, and continue to discovering newer facets
through watching real life cases and experiences. Of late, I
realize I may be subconsciously mingling the dark with the
nuances of love and spirituality because upon reflection, I
tend to surprise myself with what I wrote. Poems that are
written from meditation driving to your centre, closing
that sphere and banishing the outside from entering are
ones you truly write uninhibitedly. It is also difficult to
achieve that sphere, but poetry is its ongoing process, one I
am continually striving to attain.
*****
-
50 www.hallofpoets.com
ART OF POETRY
Poetry is the art that can neither be learnt nor taught but it
is expressed in varied forms; sometimes in a proper pattern
while sometimes feestyle. Since ages there are various forms
that originated and became popular as the Poetic forms. In
this section of our ezine, we will bring for you the beautiful
poetic forms.
DIAMANTE POEM
Its a style of poetry that is made up of 7 lines. The text
forms the shape of a lozenge or diamond. The form was
developed by Iris Tiedt in a new poetry form [The
Diamante] 1969.
Structure :
This poem is written using a set structure
1: Beginning Subject
2: Two describing words about line 1
3: Three doing words about line 1
4: A short phrase about line 1 A short phrase about line 7
5: Three doing words about line 7
6: Two describing words about line 7
7: End subject
-
51 www.hallofpoets.com
Article by:
Urooj Murtaza
Dr. Prerna Singla (Intro)
References:
Wikipedia.
-
52 www.hallofpoets.com
FUNNY LOVE STORY
By Anjali Kullu
Period. I was in a state of period; no not in my regular
cycles. One of the saddest and lonely point of my life when I
came across my Knight (just my lame imagination, his
attitude was more of a Romeo.) He is someone who is fun
like a badass and just a little crazy. So, how we ended up
together was more of cosmos and mystery or say science
than some fairytale love story. Hence, how things started
Picture courtesy: Anjali Kullu
I had an event (I was into part time events: I badly needed
money back then) at Hyderabad, so, by the time I was done
and landed back to Bangalore it was damn late past
12.30am. So, I live in south of Bangalore; getting back to my
-
53 www.hallofpoets.com
room this late was not an option when you stay alone in not
so safe area. Hence, relying on my friend I called him to
receive me. It was for the first time I went to his room (my
friends are mostly boys, when you are into civil engineering
the chances to have girl friends are always near to zero.) It
was a cozy flat, one hall, a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom
made up Sattus space (we christened him this name.) After
freshening up I went to sleep in the bedroom having a large
king-size bed. The bed and the room belonged to Sattus elder
brother who was in office then that I learned about.
After being assured that his brother wont show up I shut
the door and slept without a blanket. Though being directed
to take blanket from the cupboard, my etiquette didnt allow
me to peek into others cupboard. Hence, I slept without one
despite freezing. I usually cant sleep in a new bed but that
day I simply dozed off. Being a dream lover unfortunately I
had no dreams. Waking up right on time to go to class,
unexpected: there was blanket on top of me while I feared
the worse. I rushed to the washroom to look for any
misdeed. But everything was perfectly fine; after freshening
up I started to leave for my room when I learned that
Sattus brother was already here. Wondering still about the
blanket I left never once meeting his brother.
-
54 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Anjali Kullu
So, after a month we are here, in my room me and Sattus
brother. I remember one instance trying to login into the
Wifi at Sattus place, asking Sattu for the password
(wasim*****) my next question being, Who is Wasim?
Giving a stare Sattu answered, My brother. They were
brothers-cum-roommates since school days. There I came to
know his name was Wasim though funnily I never called
him bhaiya (brother), never felt the need to. He was our
senior as he had passed from the same college. There at my
place, it was the first time that I saw his face clearly. Okay,
the thing is I dont eye men, no matter how handsome a guy
is until unless they turn me on. And Wasim, oh boy, he is
handsome! But I never bothered to look at him.
-
55 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Anjali Kullu
I usually went to Sattus place for group study during
semester exams; sometimes stayed back before the exams.
Occasionally cooked dinner for us, one such night I prepared
bhindi ki sabji (Ladys-finger curry.) We all sat to eat even
Wasim; as I removed the lid from the vessel, all eyes fell on
me, making me ponder on my mistake. Once the food was
served and tasted I got my first compliment from none but
Wasim The food is delicious reminds of my mothers (Now
this statement was for real or just to impress, I am yet not
sure.)
-
56 www.hallofpoets.com
Picture courtesy: Anjali Kullu
So, coming from there, how this man ended up in my room!
Huh, not mere coincidence, the previous night as usual I
was at his place studying with friends. One of my friends,
Sameer, had always hit on me from the start. Sameer was
high: planned to hump me that night almost getting touchy.
Now this I hate in men just because I am your friend or
have only boy friends doesnt make me consent your pervert
ways. Things went out of hand when he accused me of being
at Sattus place plus letting no one to sleep with me. This
raged me, I stormed out of the flat at 3am in the night; none
of my friends came forward neither to stop nor to say sorry.
I went straight to my room, bruised internally. Almost
crying till morning, I slept around 10am and by the time I
got up it was late evening.
-
57 www.hallofpoets.com
Bringing food from a small restaurant I came back in an
hour. The place where I lived was one room cum bathroom
kitchen attached space, but big enough for one person.
Situated in top floor of the building it had a huge terrace
and down below was occupied by army of men. Luckily,
nobody ever bothered me, and though not safe I still lived
there so as to keep my pockets from burning. I was still
broken from last nights incident, what was more upsetting
that I didnt have any friends to confide with. All my
friends left me when I needed them the most while I was
always there for them. I unwillingly finished my dinner and
got busy cleaning my room.
Picture courtesy: Anjali Kullu
By exactly at 1am I got a call from an unknown number,
hesitant I picked up the call. It was Wasim. We shared
pleasantries and then he self invited himself. I, at first,
-
58 www.hallofpoets.com
denied that it isnt a proper time to meet; he agreed but he
added he has no place to go. So, I gave in to his request
directing him my place. He came at 3am with one of my
friend and bid him goodbye. That was awkward fearing his
intentions I still let Wasim into my house.
But the first thing he did after shutting the door was shout
at me for not relying on him for the previous night that I
went off without once informing him. He was angry
because it was too late and unsafe for a girl to leave at 3 in
the night. He was furious and sorry that he couldnt sleep
whole night. He heard everything what was going on and
feared for me but was helpless as I never once informed him.
I know this sounds stupid but this is what happened after
talking for an hour or so he slept in my cozy little bed. And
I had to sleep next to him; funnily, he cuddled dozing like a
baby.
Picture courtesy: Anjali Kullu
-
59 www.hallofpoets.com
Love is more of science I feel, his smell was so arousing, it
reminded me of smelling his towels and liking it. The smell,
the profound aroma that lingered always gave me
Goosebumps. As a matter of fact the night I came from
Hyderabad it was Wasim who put a blanket around me. It
was all meant to be but I feared the consequences because I
didnt want to be in love but fate always have different
plans for me. And so the lousy lamb did fell in the trap.
Talking of science, he theoretically proposed me in three
days of knowing me while I took around fourteen days to
accept his love. Fearing the fate, I did fell in love. The cupid
did get us falling for each other. Somehow, we connected
and still rolling together funnily
******
-
60 www.hallofpoets.com
DONE SOMETHING DIFFERENT
& UNUSUAL IN LIFE?
Share your shocking story with us and we will feature your
story in the Hall of Poets International ezine.
Send your entry at: [email protected]
Website: www.hallofpoets.com
-
61 www.hallofpoets.com
PASSAGE
A Garden-lily caresses my gaze;
It bequeaths a pristine glory on me
The ubiquitous moon cannot
Out-shine its glow that smears
My courtyard
Its this bit of moon; this shredded legacy
And nuptial bliss bestowed upon me
That I bask under its illustriousness
The voluptuous moon, frustrates your
Inane awkwardness, that you inhale
Among crackers, matchboxes
Among festivals and rituals
You travel deep, deep down among
Throaty silences and mindless fissures
Till our breath mingles in an explosion.
I inhale your skin among fresh mint and banana
-
62 www.hallofpoets.com
Syrups and lozenges, your apricot skin allures me
Among untrodden ways
Your eyes are gateways to gardens of babylon.
Deeya Bhattacharya, 2016
-
63 www.hallofpoets.com
IN QUIETUDE
Yellow pansies are a tell-tale of memories-they look into my
face and buckle me up-I cannot explicate the difference in
timescape-flitting from one dungeon into another-inelegance
reverberating in my nerves.
Ensuring my hurried scampering from one dungeon to the
next, they spell mistiness. Far away the marshy swamps
resound with the croaking of wild frogs-their bulging
throats full of venom-an eeriness slowly engulfs me.
Eeriness is misnomer I should rather say uncanny it is.
Thoughts dwindling unbelievably I fondle for your warmth-
warmth that once lingered upon my virgin skin in quietude.
Deeya Bhattacharya, 2016
-
64 www.hallofpoets.com
HALL OF POETS ARTIST OF THE MONTH
Dorina Costras
POEM AT TWILIGHT (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
About the painter Dorina Costras - by Anca Mihaela Bruma
The moment I set my eyes on Dorina Costras paintings for
the first time I knew her work was the perfect kind of
artistic expression I had been looking for in terms of
paintings.
-
65 www.hallofpoets.com
There is a dynamic balance in Dorinas compositions, which
reflects how she sees the universal equilibrium between the
two primordial forces: ying and yang, feminine and
masculine, the higher and lower self, above as below. Her
canvasses express a new revitalized energy with images
that vibrate with strong saturated colors, and the main
focus seems to be a moving spirit expressed through bright,
glowingly exotic colors. Her paintings are characterized by
grace and fluency developing the theme of divine influx as
an expression of sacred femininity and sensuality, an
interaction of divine forces within the human being,
celebrating the wonders of life. Feminine beauty is the
central landmark in her work, eternal and everlasting
within a musical world.
Dorina Costras, from Romania, is a prominent painter, a
globally recognized artist whose works have been displayed
at many exhibitions, and whose artwork has featured in
various art albums and on book covers.
what the artists says: "I like to transpose on canvas inner
states, to interpret and render them... I paint from
imagination and I have some favorite themes but the main
character, in all of them, is the woman. I alternate between
them depending on my mood and inspiration of the
moment." (by Dorina Costras)
Dorinas website:
http://www.decorative.ro/
-
66 www.hallofpoets.com
ANOTHER KIND OF RHAPSODY (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
-
67 www.hallofpoets.com
DREAM TRAVELLER (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
-
68 www.hallofpoets.com
HEAVEN FOR TWO (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
-
69 www.hallofpoets.com
IMPOSSIBLE LOVE (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
-
70 www.hallofpoets.com
IMPOSSIBLE LOVE (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
-
71 www.hallofpoets.com
IN THE LIGHT OF KNOWINGNESS
(Inspired by Dorinas art Impossible Love)
You complete the sentence within my highlight,
Turn me into prose and decipher my twilight,
Depict my silences with stars and moonlight......
I was in the future!... Yet, you see my sidelight...
I recreate the metaphor in you and jostle for the limelight,
And every meter, lament and line raise its own sight,
The verbs of your palm, I bring them to the eyesight,
Our fingers build unknown languages into the headlight!...
Let us burn in pages, as a song in a firelight!
Embrace me with your eyes reflection and insight!
As curator of curves I will build in you a stalactite,
Casting and recreating each breath in the candlelight!
I see in you an overture... An image to ignite,
I leave an empty line to place your significance to recite!
Your whispers on soft petals, give Love another sight,
And the sum of my heart grows inside a crystallite!
I forget to put commas and full stops overnight,
Historia bivalente has been brought to the spotlight!
As a fraction of our Existence is perplexed into the sunlight,
And a chorus of dreams repeat psalms under starlight!...
Rhymed lines and hopes bloom and reunite,
Your punctuation takes the form of kisses and light,
-
72 www.hallofpoets.com
Until we destroy the language and leave the spaces bright,
And I can see you frame by frame with its own height!...
I martyred myself in You!... What a delight!...
(Anca Mihaela - 25th March 2014)
SUNSET KISS (ART BY DORINA COSTRAS)
-
73 www.hallofpoets.com
I AM NOT THAT!... I AM THIS!...
(Inspired by Dorinas art Sunset Kiss.)
I am not
described by these
epileptic diagnosis
and eternal midnights...
half dreams
and stamped lives...
I am not
this tattooed persona,
and not the lies
justified by your own mouth!...
I am not
the coagulated rhythms
of your googled thoughts,
and not the paragraph in which
ONCE you loved me!...
I am not
your Life Story
filled with anxious antonyms
and unlearnt lessons...
I am not
these epidermic proclamations
of your reiterated assumed pains...
-
74 www.hallofpoets.com
I am not
the maze of your intricate conversation
filled by holographic nemesis
and self contradictory promises!
I am not
your reflected misread images
and scribbled immature emotions,
which... u collect for a white procession...
I am not
your days and nights
on which you spread your ink
as a fraction of MY Existence!...
I am not
your double "I"-s
and sampled love.
I AM THIS
tantalizing Verb called
"To Love"!
And....
I cannot be dethroned
from your Life Song!...
Anca Mihaela Bruma
-
75 www.hallofpoets.com
A GIANT LEAP TOWARDS THE VISION OF
UNIVERSAL FAMILY
On the human family tree, we are all cousins. united by
blood and emotions
Our genes, our bodies are all the same, albeit separated by
great oceans
We share the same outlook, that should bind us in a deep
connection
There is every reason that we are all one and there is truth
in this conception
Yet, humans are divided in their minds by race,religion,
caste,and class,
Causing never ending strife. hatred, and incalculable
human loss
Ethnic cleansing, religious wars, racial conflicts poisons our
mind
Fighting our indomitable human spirit and vision of
universal family behind
-
76 www.hallofpoets.com
This anarchy, this malice ,this avarice, this fanaticism, this
extremism is spreading like cancer
To live and experience the beauty, the immensity and
mystery of this universe, we must workout an answer
Each human deserves equality, respect and inalienable right
of belonging to one home, one Universe
If all of us take a small step, this will prove to be a giant
leap towards making world as sweet as as a verse
We believe proudly that we have accomplished many
things, wealth, fame and power
Yet, all these things never brought us neither inner peace
nor world peace, still we cower
Let us tame the animal within us to shun violence , greed
and unquenchable hunger for money
Accept the worth of all fellow humans and encourage the
ability of all to promote harmony
K.Radhakrishnan/2016
-
77 www.hallofpoets.com
BURNING
The enchanting fire grate lay beside..
Immortal with metamorphic passions...
Passions - that drove both of us..
Lying together on the comfortable bed..
I espied it burning..
Burning precisely in both of us..
With that shimmer in your eyes, ink brows and manly
curls...
Instincts played..
My head in the hollow of your shoulder
I melted into your body..
My hands cafund you....
You leaning on me ... Stimulated by the idea of heightened
pleasures
Thus, pushing the sides of my gown..
With the last fastening undone..
You placed pecks on my bareness..
While your hands cupped my bosom..
I shuddered,
Beneath the light strokes..
Reluctant to leave the pleasure of your hands..
Unerringly my fingers made its own way ... to your fabric
down below desperation had already started its search
for the sheltered pearl of my womanhood...
Rectifying the completion of ecstasy
The temporal thoughts evaporated at the sound of sensual
requests..
I grasped the sensation of welcoming a loved one home..
-
78 www.hallofpoets.com
We both lay contended,
your head in the hollow of my shoulder...
My hairs sweeping your chest
We remained silent..
Neither of us wishing to speak...
Vaishalivasshu sarkar
-
79 www.hallofpoets.com
THE SADDEST TREE
The saddest tree
Almost cried
In the arms of widowed earth
And an orphan bird
In love with the broken skies
The pains swam back
To the unfertile heart
As i go round and round
Of the saddest tree...
What you did to me
Is what autumn does to green trees
Damaged and fading
When the silence gets too loud..
And my skin is cultivated with loneliness
The orphan bird
Under the broken skies
Is my souls companion
On the dented scratched path..
Towards your promise..
Where there is not a patch of sky..
Till nothing's left unseen...
Urooj Murtaza
-
80 www.hallofpoets.com
THE FLOATING STONES
REVIEW BY Dr. PRERNA SINGLA
-
81 www.hallofpoets.com
The floating stones is a collection of 57 poems written by
Tanni Bose. The poems variedly present a rainbow of
thoughts by way of scenarios and stories that are both
heart touching and mindfully profound.
In her poetry poet expresses the essence of death by way of
leaves, Essence of beauty by way of Sculpture carved in
Marble, Faith in the smoke from burning incense,
Opponent in the fear she fights with, the universal fact of
impermanence in the dying Gulmohar... She has
beautifully used nature to express her thoughts.
In the poem Dry Leaves, poet expresses the dying of a
leaf when it goes through the last phases of its life and
metaphorically using the same, she expresses that she
would like to die a death with which even the traces of
her disappear rather than a life that is lived in sadness
and pain.
Her poem The Artist presents a beautiful thought
carved into a poetic story saying that beauty lies in the
eyes of beholder. It is a soul that is more beautiful than
the external appearance. It is the nature that is more
attractive than a pretty face... and when met with a
marvel like that, the world wonders who carved the
beauty of it.
Rating: 4/5
-
82 www.hallofpoets.com
Verses that touched me:
Days and months pass, the mind covers ages
He takes refuge in the Lord and now his thought
changes. (The Refugee)
Fear, be fearful of me
I will capture your pride and steed. (Dauntless fear)
They want to abide by your side
But land up with my company beside
So, I am the winner and ever will be
Since they say, I am the world and the world is me.
(Sorrow)
Trivial is dust to our minds
We dont count on them (Dust)
MY FAVOURITE POEM: THE SEVEN SISTERS
-
83 www.hallofpoets.com
-
84 www.hallofpoets.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mrs. Tanni Bose works as an educator in Aravali
International School, Faridabad now. She was an
English Teacher at Tendruk Higher Secondary School of
the Royal Government of Bhutan hails from Kolkata,
West Bengal. She was born and brought up in the steel
city of Rourkela, since her father was a SAIL employee
there.
Writing was always a passion for Mrs. Tanni. However,
2008 became a defining year in her life since she could
publish a few of her works in the school magazine and
made a self-discovery that she was indeed in romance
with literature. It formally bloomed in 2012 when her
first anthology Dawn and Dusk was published. Her readers, including critics confessed that a new breeze in
poetry writing is here to blow to soothe and to ruffle too,
of course. Her passion for reading and writing assured
her a berth in the Writers Association of Bhutan and the
Edu Talk where she thinks aloud to make the readers
ponder, delight and at times wrinkle their brows. Her
writing in facebook and her blog A Grain of Faith are being followed by many. Her articles in Student Digest and Norzam Speaks both publications in Bhutan are well taken by readers at large. She also contributes
regularly in the international journal by
Ciberwitnet.com TajMahal Review
-
85 www.hallofpoets.com
She has represented Bhutan as an official delegate in
the SAARC Literary festivals in Thimphu, Bhutan in
2013. She was a delegate in the FOSWAL Literary
Festivals at Agra and Jaipur in 2015 and in Delhi in
2016 February as well.
Floating Stones is her second work of poems, ringing the inescapable paradox of existential pulls and pushes.
The poetess here is swayed by multiple senses and
sensibilities, reflected in these poems.
Her third Book The Molested Clay is also ready for printing.
Writing apart, Mrs. Bose loves reading, music and her
students. Love given reciprocates. After all books support her; music heals her aches and her students
adore her. Life then becomes poetry to her.
*****
-
86 www.hallofpoets.com
ALI ALI ALI...MISS THEE
First Boxer known to me?
Muhammad Ali,
first book read, although I
had Malcolm X,
didn't feel ready so instead,
I read the other M,
his autobiography gave me
laughter and a better understanding of him.
Favorite character in fight night 3?
you know the answer?
Muhammad Ali,
if I cornered you expect a speedy flurry,
I was fast with the buttons like him with the feet,
in the game he felt like a butterfly
and
definitely stings like a bee;
My brother would be Frazier,
Thrilla in Manila,
rematches until the early hours,
I would be the winner,
giving him Ali combo showers.
Muhammad Ali he was
tall and wise like a tree,
down to earth with his roots,
he knew his history.
-
87 www.hallofpoets.com
Muhammad Ali
you live in peoples heart,
boxing was not much of a picture
until you brought your art,
29th of October when boxing saw this star.
Cassius Clay,
god made him in his image
and said "you cannot touch this face"
so go gave him a good
offense and defense with a unique pace.
He had a child like attitude
Kept his opponents confused,
They really wanted to whoop him,
But he's lightning in shoes.
An icon of his time
and
he was wicked with the rhyme,
he didn't only have a wicked punch,
but had many wicked punch lines.
So many wise quotes
and
experienced notes,
serious behind the scene
and
could put on a show.
-
88 www.hallofpoets.com
I was never a boxing fan,
but i could watch this man,
his heart, his desires would
speak through his hands.
Muhammad Ali is poetry,
so am I and I write this for him,
now he's in heaven,
boxing with legends,
infinite rounds in a golden ring,
Rest in peace to a boxing king.
"The peoples champ,
the greatest,
Louisville Lip,
thank god for your existence
and
you will truly be missed"
Le Hornet
-
89 www.hallofpoets.com
FA LA LA
Hold me one more time my love
I am fading into an absent state of mind
Falling from this abstract, ambient dream painted thereof
peace an isolated hue
Strange, I cannot bring myself to pluck flower petals from
these flowers
For, in time like I, will they wither in die
So, I empathizesympathizing to the point of vanity
Caring in a way that may allow them to have but a few
more moments to sing
With those vibrant colour which add a verity of tones to
this dying worldI mean
It seems we tend to rush that which is meant to be
Death looms, love is forever, and our consciousness fiends
for them to sets us free
Fa la lala lala fleur de dieu (The Flower Of God)
The misplaced lullaby that wanders in my lost corrupted
mind
Kiss me one more time my love
As I am aging, decaying, and declining to see the hope in
tomorrow
Yet, your lipsthe gentle curves of your rejuvenating lips
And the their passionate touch revitalizes my faith
-
90 www.hallofpoets.com
In that your beautiful face will be there when I awake
within that un-promised morning
Just like those flower petals I felt for, took pity on and
dreamt about
Thereby, If by the grace of God may you be my flower to
which I could care for
Thus, within these fleeting moments tied to time I would
paint pictures dedicated to you
Lacing emptying canvases with a sheen that mimics your
vibrant esoteric glow
Having your image to be the reason my quill floods a page
with nonstop poetry
All to make something like your essence everlasting
As if you were to corrupted the mind of God
As this lullaby has mineFa la lala lala fleur de dieu a
perpetual ambient hue
~ Paradises Poet ~ (Tony)
rarityofparadise.wordpress.com
-
91 www.hallofpoets.com
I WOULD LIKE TO BE A CHILD
I'm two years old
and I have many wires
on the arms
they put them
even on the head
and sometimes
on the legs,
I don't understand
what they're doing
but I cry
because it hurts.
I was told
that outside
the world is beautiful
but when do I go out
of this box?
I'm two years old
and I have many wires,
if I were a child
they wouldn't do it
they would cry out
that it's horrible,
you too
would think the same.
But a little mouse
doesn't arouse pity
and when
I shout
-
92 www.hallofpoets.com
with pain
nobody hears
nobody listens
nobody cries.
I would like to be
a child
and yet
I too
have hands, legs,
eyes and ears,
have nose, mouth,
nerves and heart,
and yet
I too
tremble and suffer,
I'm cold,
I'm scared
and I feel pain.
I would like to be
a child
to see
the world
and forget
a box
and many wires.
Gianfranco Aurilio
-
93 www.hallofpoets.com
VORREI ESSERE UN BIMBO
DALLA RACCOLTA INTORNO A ME
Ho due anni
e tanti fili
per le braccia
anche in testa
me li mettono
e qualche volta
nelle gambe,
non capisco
cosa fanno
per piango
perch fa male.
Mhan detto
che fuori
il mondo bello
ma quando esco
da questa scatola?
Ho due anni
e tanti fili,
se fossi un bimbo
non lo farebbero
griderebbero
che orrore,
anche tu
lo penseresti.
Ma un topolino
non commuove
-
94 www.hallofpoets.com
e quando
grido
di dolore
nessuno sente
nessuno ascolta
nessuno piange.
Vorrei essere
un bimbo
eppure
anchio
ho mani, gambe,
occhi e orecchi,
ho naso, bocca,
nervi e cuore,
eppure
anchio
tremo e soffro,
ho freddo,
ho paura
e ho dolore.
Vorrei essere
un bimbo
per vedere
il mondo
e dimenticare
una scatola
e tanti fili.
Gianfranco Aurilio
http://www.gianfrancoaurilio.it/poems
-
95 www.hallofpoets.com
THE RIGVEDIC POETRY
By Kiron Krishnan
KIRON KRISHNAN
The Rigvedic poetry is full of metaphors and exquisite
poems that talk of the parallels between natural phenomena
outside and the spiritual phenomena inside. Rigvedic poems
normally do appear to speak about some natural symbol,
until in the same poem you see one key left by the poet to
decode. That may be the usage of a known metaphor
symbol in Vedas, or the continued usage of the pun words.
At a point, you realize that the poetry you are reading is
too deep to be decoded from a single perspective. In a way,
you are amazed at their stunning usage of the beautiful
poetic language Sanskrit to weave their beautiful poetry.
The poems of Vedas have a poetic metre in which they are
written, and a subject on which they deal. The concepts of
Vedic divinities are a notable one. As we read in the last
article, the Veda calls the ultimate Reality, the One, as
-
96 www.hallofpoets.com
"who". It is this "who" who is the "one Reality" (ekam sad) or
"That One" (tad ekam), and this Reality is just "spoken of as
different" by the people. Thus Vedas are inclusive basically,
and they never limit the concept of the Divinity. According
to them, Divinity is infinitely mouldable, but all your
descriptions still cannot pervade its greatness.
It would sound something very
funny and sarcastic - but on pondering over the lines, we do
realise the pun in it. The "who" is the question, and we
expect an answer for it. It is the question that shows we
know the outward attributes or features of the person, but
do not know his identity or inner Reality. For example, I
say "who?" as a question only when I know something the
"who" has done/effected or like the person is right before me,
but in all cases I don't know the actual identity. Such a
situation implies the limits of our brain, our own knowledge
- we know something caused due to the person, but we don't
know the identity of the person. An unanswered who
simply shows the above qualities.
It shows the incomprehensibility of the person, it shows that
the person is beyond what knowledge can cover, it shows
that the person is always beyond the reach of senses and can
only be felt through the splendour he has left for us to
question. Though this idea seems a pessimistic one for a
seeker, in reality, it actually does promote the need for
finding a cause that is beyond his knowledge limits. The
final Reality is best described by a question, which needs to
-
97 www.hallofpoets.com
be answered by someone. Of course we have to seek, and get
our answers from the same "who".
The poetic beauty of the lines that use
the who for the Reality is so exqusite. This is further used
for the poem in the famous creation poem of Rigveda
(10.129), and in several poems of Vedas. The who is the One
Reality that actually knows everything. Thus, the spiritual
sun, the Vedic symbol of Ultimate Reality has its bright
lustre that prevents us from looking within. The bright
lustre of the spiritual sun induces the question "who" in us,
and the answer is but behind its golden lustre. Or sometimes,
Veda calls it poetically, the origin of golden lustre, or
Hiraya-garbha. The sun as we experience is not the sun
behind it.
In the beginning was the origin of Golden lustre,
Manifested as the sole Lord of land, skies, water, space and
that beneath
He upheld the earth and the heaven.
To the who, the shining one, we offer worship with oblations.
Rigveda 1.121.1
The expression of the who as something to be found out
through seeking is a typical seeker's philosophy that echoes
in the beautiful pun of "who".
The Vedic metaphors are
present for every physical symbol, from land to sky. But the
most basic of them is the couple of sky and earth. The sky is
the symbol of "spiritual realms", while earth symbolises the
-
98 www.hallofpoets.com
"physical mind". The concepts of God, are born in our mind
during the "spiritual dawn", and are born from the earth of
our minds, and rise up as the sun to the spiritual realms.
Our Self, one with the sun, traverses the spiritual realms
upto the sky, and returns to the earth of mind during
physical life. The Vedic sages considered spirituality to be
complementing physical life, and not simply one shall be a
healthy thing. One should do his duties, both spiritual as
well as physical, this is compared with the sun rising and
setting as per law.
Even beyond this metaphorical symbol, one poet
(Maitravaruni Vasishtha) tells poetically that he sails to
and fro in the sky with his boat of Self, the Sun.
Thus most of the natural
metaphors in Rigveda have a spiritual symbol associated.
The poems become so wonderful as they begin to use pun
words apart from these metaphors. For example, the
Nasadiya sukta, Rigvedic poem of Creation states that at
the beginning of creation :
"Non existence / Unreal did not, nor did existence / reality
exist then,
There was no rajas then, nor the realm beyond it.
What covered it, Where, In whose keeping,
What, the cosmic water, existed, in depths unfathomed?"
Here, the word in Italics is a Sanskrit word with two
meanings - rajas which means both atmosphere and the
-
99 www.hallofpoets.com
psychological quality of behavior with a small level of
ignorance. This is the key we get to decode the subject of the
poem, right in its opening lines. If we see the first meaning
as air, we get the poem starting as talking about a timeless
situation where there is no existence or non existence - there
is no atmosphere or realm beyond it. The subsequent lines
are presented as a question, for which we will see answers
in coming lines : "At first there was only darkness wrapped
in darkness. All this was only unillumined water...".
But now lets think of the other situation - rajas meaning the
psychological quality of little but lesser ignorance. Then,
reading the first line, we are reminded of a totally ignorant
situation where there is no distinction between reality and
unreality. The next line again, compliments the above by
telling that there was not even the rajas quality of lesser
ignorance, nor the upper realm of pure knowledge in the
spiritual man. All that covered was the question
"what/why" (kim, the Sanskrit word means both what and
why). It covered it in the abode of "who", the Ultimate
Reality. As we see, "waters" represent the thoughts in
physical mind parallel to the vast sky. The poet now tells
that the thought of what (or why) was the water (thought)
that existed in unfathomed depths.
Similarly, the poem progresses until the last
portion,, with the same unbroken parallel meanings of
spiritual and physical creations. The whole poem is an
unparalleled masterpiece in Sanskrit poetry and its wisdom
stands still unquestioned. In the coming days, as we have
-
100 www.hallofpoets.com
seen the basic poetic metaphors underlining the Vedic
poems, we shall be looking further into this poem of creation
in detail.
*****
-
101 www.hallofpoets.com
ONE EVENING WITH ME
I place my thoughts
on a thread of consciousness
to design a garland
of soul's memories.
Whoa! Fire!
Doesn't it romantically blend in?
Fumes can only suffocate
but burns are tattoos
of loved ones,
marks of memories
on skins that never shed
in a long lifetime.
Seriously?
Dreams.
Kisses have
low boiling points:
volatile gifts of summer
get washed away
in sophisticated machines
while dreams yearn for
rice between rails of fate.
Rituals.
Aren't women divine?
I loved a girl in twenties.
-
102 www.hallofpoets.com
People called her a witch
for she worked even
when she bled;
when she bled every month,
she offered prayers,
better than men who
were single shakers,
who carried ova
of voyeurism in selves,
like the Satan who stays
pregnant with bastards.
Yet, they called her a witch.
Prosecution.
I fight for my land
that now rots in fouls
but was once golden.
I fight for my land:
had I been born then
I would have pride,
then why not now?
The soil still basks in the old spirit,
only spirits have changed.
I live for the goodness.
Cuckoo calls find me.
They search for you too.
Poor wings!
They cannot carry their calls
over oceans and unknown marshlands!
I can, but, send you records!
-
103 www.hallofpoets.com
But I won't!
Haha!
-Rupam Goswami
-
104 www.hallofpoets.com
~BE
Shall I stand in ovation
And applauds
On thy style
Shimmering, blinking
Falls from sky
Felt in depths
Within
Invisible from
Naked eyes
O my love, O my life
How shall I describe
Thy presence
Smiling, dancing like
Stubborn childs pride
What comes next
What future holds
Let thinker decide
O my love, O my heart
How shall I define
Thy nonsense
Ah! Balouch
Shivering, rattling like
Withered leaf
Attached to branch
Yearns to be free
-
105 www.hallofpoets.com
Float on winds
Fly with breeze
Fall on the womb
From where it be
O my love, O my soul
How shall I explain
Thy grievance
Asif Balouch (Asif Ajaz)
Copyright June 9, 2016
-
106 www.hallofpoets.com
LOSS
We spoke today;
words silently popping up
on the small cellular screen
cradled in the palm of my hands
Like a lifeline I wait,
agonizing moments bound
tight like rubber bands
waiting for what
I still don't know
but I wait quietly
pacing the cold kitchen tiles
cursing the miles between us
I wanted to find myself
so I walked away
from everything I knew,
from everything true
and all that I found was loss
Priya Patel ~ June 7, 2016
-
107 www.hallofpoets.com
Interview with Dr. Aprilia Zank
Theoretician of poetry, translator, poet
by
Anca M. Bruma
Dr. APRILIA ZANK
-
108 www.hallofpoets.com
Anca M. Bruma: I know that you yourself have done
interviews with various well-known people. What is, in your
opinion, the 'must' for an interview?
Yes, I have had the chance to meet and interview some
renowned personalities such as the poet George Szirtes,
winner of the T. S. Eliot Poet