Showing posts with label 202005E. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 202005E. Show all posts
Stay safe in Corona-Era
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| Anurag Sharma |
Living in the age of Covid-19 is a lifetime experience. This virus has affected our life and society in many ways. The world has experienced enormous loss of precious lives. The world has understood the need of global cooperation in fighting such pandemics.
Social distancing and hygienic lifestyle have become the need of the hour. Working from home is fast becoming a norm than exception in Corona-Era. Online collaboration is at its peak now. Our able editor Dr. Sunil Sharma is running Setu's Facebook video series titled "Prose and Poetry Readings in the Time of Pestilence" (Setu's Facebook Page) with great cooperation from all of you.
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| Editor: Sangeeta Sharma |
We are ready to enter into our fifth year with over 750 authors, and 1.44 million unique hits. We have recently published our 10th book, Women, Nurturing Outlook and Ecology: Scholarly Essays by Prominent Critics: Theory and Practice, edited by Dr. Sangeeta Sharma. The book is available worldwide in print and eBook formats via Amazon. Just like other Setu books, eBook format of this book is available free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers. Due to Corona related lock down, India is facing some issues about availability of the paperback edition of the book, but the eBook format is available there too.
Setu is being listed on many literary directories and aggregators including the few listed below. It's sad that it isn't currently listed in CARE list of UGC (India). If you are an academician based in India, I am sure you will make sure to recommend Setu to UGC as soon as possible.
Enjoy!
Yours,
Anurag Sharma
Setu, Pittsburgh ✍️
Looking beyond COVID-19 and more: Few jottings
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| Sunil Sharma |
The May issue is here!
Despite the ongoing Corona pandemic, a crisis global in its reach and proportions; the ensuing lockdown and popular fear, humankind marches on, undeterred, bravely facing the dangers and carrying on with life, by carefully observing the safety protocols!
We will surely overcome this threat as well.
Hope you are safe and well.
Prayers for the safety of each one of you and the humankind.
Words mean a lot.
They have got their own kinetic energy.
Prayers are words made sacred by a belief system and are known to deliver positive results.
Many lessons---takeaways---have been learnt by the mortals.
Most crucial and recurring---respect for nature, ecology and environment!
At Setu, we invited writers across the world to send us their best poems in both Hindi and English for the initiative: Prose and Poetry Readings in the Time of Pandemic. The idea was to listen to comforting messages of hope and triumph, insights, views, in lyrical and non-lyrical modes.
Happy to share that the response was pretty overwhelming by our esteemed colleagues who made dedicated videos for the open call.
The viewership of the video content increased many folds within the last three weeks.
So far the number of video-readings is 56---and increasing.
We remain grateful to our dear writers for the same.
You can visit the link of the videos elsewhere in this issue to savour some uplifting works in prose and poetry to beat the plague blues.
Soon, these will be available on the Setu You Tube link as well.
Another special section, this month also, is on flash fiction, curated by the eminent American writer Kelli J Gavin. She has selected some fine flashes for you. Flash packs the punch in less than 1,000 words or less, in general. It is challenging medium but popular with writers and readers alike for being a quick read and effective in its impact than the long fiction. The wide-ranging themes, settings and styles confirm the vitality and appeal of this tightly-controlled literary form in evoking mood and subtle message. The featured talents of this annual selection of prose tend to universally bring alive, the different realities of the immediacy and are sheer delight!
Besides that, there are the other regular columns for enjoyment.
Next month marks the fourth year of the monthly production of the bilingual journal with a whopping 14-lakh-plus viewership so far!
A big milestone for us!
The video readings, too, have been a smash hit.
This format also has become favouraite with the new audiences everywhere. It is one of the innovations aimed to engage with the reading community, on a different platform.
We hope you will continue to give us your loving attention in coming months also.
Lastly, thanks to each contributor and our guest editor Kelli J Gavin for the solid support and editorial vision.
Much appreciated!
Take care.
Stay safe.
See you again, next month!
Despite the ongoing Corona pandemic, a crisis global in its reach and proportions; the ensuing lockdown and popular fear, humankind marches on, undeterred, bravely facing the dangers and carrying on with life, by carefully observing the safety protocols!
We will surely overcome this threat as well.
Hope you are safe and well.
Prayers for the safety of each one of you and the humankind.
Words mean a lot.
They have got their own kinetic energy.
Prayers are words made sacred by a belief system and are known to deliver positive results.
Many lessons---takeaways---have been learnt by the mortals.
Most crucial and recurring---respect for nature, ecology and environment!
At Setu, we invited writers across the world to send us their best poems in both Hindi and English for the initiative: Prose and Poetry Readings in the Time of Pandemic. The idea was to listen to comforting messages of hope and triumph, insights, views, in lyrical and non-lyrical modes.
Happy to share that the response was pretty overwhelming by our esteemed colleagues who made dedicated videos for the open call.
The viewership of the video content increased many folds within the last three weeks.
So far the number of video-readings is 56---and increasing.
We remain grateful to our dear writers for the same.
You can visit the link of the videos elsewhere in this issue to savour some uplifting works in prose and poetry to beat the plague blues.
Soon, these will be available on the Setu You Tube link as well.
Another special section, this month also, is on flash fiction, curated by the eminent American writer Kelli J Gavin. She has selected some fine flashes for you. Flash packs the punch in less than 1,000 words or less, in general. It is challenging medium but popular with writers and readers alike for being a quick read and effective in its impact than the long fiction. The wide-ranging themes, settings and styles confirm the vitality and appeal of this tightly-controlled literary form in evoking mood and subtle message. The featured talents of this annual selection of prose tend to universally bring alive, the different realities of the immediacy and are sheer delight!
Besides that, there are the other regular columns for enjoyment.
Next month marks the fourth year of the monthly production of the bilingual journal with a whopping 14-lakh-plus viewership so far!
A big milestone for us!
The video readings, too, have been a smash hit.
This format also has become favouraite with the new audiences everywhere. It is one of the innovations aimed to engage with the reading community, on a different platform.
We hope you will continue to give us your loving attention in coming months also.
Lastly, thanks to each contributor and our guest editor Kelli J Gavin for the solid support and editorial vision.
Much appreciated!
Take care.
Stay safe.
See you again, next month!
Sunil Sharma,
Editor, Setu (English)
Mumbai Metro Area, Maharashtra (India)
Guest Editor’s Note: Setu Flash Fiction Special, May 2020
It is an honor to be the Guest Editor for the Flash Fiction section of Setu for the month of May 2020.
As a writer myself, I love discovering stories by new and established writers. I want to be moved, surprised, in awe, and not be able to put a story down. I want to share new work with others and talk about it with everyone I know. The art of the short story is often lost on many readers believing that they would much rather read a 400-page book. What I love about collections of specific work such as short stories, is that I am able to devour many more stories in the same amount of time. And I believe that it takes skill and deft attention to detail to create a complete story in a limited number of words. I have had the luxury of discovering new work and the authors have now become some of my favorite writers.
It has been a fantastic adventure receiving stories from authors around the world. Humor. Romance. Historical. Heartbreak. Discovery. Accomplishment. A change of perspective. All excellent storytelling. These stories will make you think, some will make you wipe away tears of laughter, or smile at a memory from days gone by. But all of them will make you want to read more.
I present to you Flash Fiction storytelling at its finest.
Bio: Kelli J Gavin of Carver, Minnesota is a Writer, Editor, Blogger and Professional Organizer. Her work can be found with Clarendon House Publishing, The Ugly Writers, Sweatpants & Coffee, Zombie Pirates Publishing, Setu, Love What Matters, and Southwest Media among others. Kelli’s first two books were released in 2019 (I Regret Nothing- A Collection of Poetry and Prose and My Name is Zach- A Teenage Perspective on Autism). Her 3rd and 4th books will be published in 2020 and 2021. Kelli is currently writing a book of fiction short stories. She has also co-authored 15 anthology books.
Her blog can be found at www.kellijgavin.blogspot.com
As a writer myself, I love discovering stories by new and established writers. I want to be moved, surprised, in awe, and not be able to put a story down. I want to share new work with others and talk about it with everyone I know. The art of the short story is often lost on many readers believing that they would much rather read a 400-page book. What I love about collections of specific work such as short stories, is that I am able to devour many more stories in the same amount of time. And I believe that it takes skill and deft attention to detail to create a complete story in a limited number of words. I have had the luxury of discovering new work and the authors have now become some of my favorite writers.
It has been a fantastic adventure receiving stories from authors around the world. Humor. Romance. Historical. Heartbreak. Discovery. Accomplishment. A change of perspective. All excellent storytelling. These stories will make you think, some will make you wipe away tears of laughter, or smile at a memory from days gone by. But all of them will make you want to read more.
I present to you Flash Fiction storytelling at its finest.
-Kelli J Gavin
Guest Editor: Flash Fiction Special Issue, Setu, May 2020
Her blog can be found at www.kellijgavin.blogspot.com
Orange Dawn - Chapter 4
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| John Clark Smith |
Yet first I had to slip out of the square, even though I felt like a dandelion on a putting green. I tried to calm myself and act as if I was familiar to citizens and the Guard. One step at a time. Concentrate on something else. Like where would I get a flashlight for the tunnels?
Melinda and Aphra had returned to Paul and Abe in the line. I stayed in the shadows underneath a balcony, a short distance from the caf├й. From there it was only a few steps on the road that led to the park. People were looking in my direction – it was all I could do not to bolt.
Melinda leaned down to Aphra, handed her a few items, and pointed in my direction. Aphra looked at me and nodded. On the far side of the park, the bridge beckoned. I started toward it without looking back.
Residents were still walking toward the square. They stared at me as I passed, but no one stopped to talk. I rolled my sleeves down to cover my bare wrists.
The park and one of the golden grasshoppers were ahead. I quickened my pace. Halfway to the bridge, I glanced over my shoulder. A small group of guards had just turned from the square into the road.
Had Paul, Abe or Melinda given me away? I began to run. The park was all open space; the shrubs wouldn’t hide even a child. Worse, the bridge was guarded by a National Guard soldier. The guard, with a German shepherd on a leash, stopped me with a kind tone.
"Ma’am, what’s wrong?” he asked. "You can't go this way.” The dog’s big black nose sniffed me.
"That's fine.”
"Could I see your identification?"
I showed him my driver’s licence. “I was lost and accidentally entered the town."
“You need to head back to the square and talk to the officers at the stations."
I turned around and saw another Guard enter the park.
“Stop her!” one of them yelled.
The Guard with the dog grabbed my arm and began to lead me over to them. We hadn’t gone more than a few yards when I saw Aphra and her mother entering the park. They hugged and Aphra broke away and raced down the eastern path along the river's edge, heading north. Melinda signaled frantically for me to follow.
I hesitated for a moment, ripped my arm away from the officer, and raced off as fast as I could after Aphra. Fortunately, my action seemed to surprise the Guard and his dog, who didn’t immediately pursue me. The other Guard wasn’t so fooled. I could feel him close behind. Never had I moved so quickly. I can only imagine how it must have appeared – a girl in a short skirt and blouse running as if a tiger was after her, a woman close behind, and a couple of Guards not far behind the woman.
We ran up the path to a place where the river narrowed. Without a moment's wait, as if she had done it many times, Aphra threw off her shoes, jumped into the river, and began to swim across. The heavy sound of military boots was coming down the path. I had no choice but to leap in.
Warning shots were fired. The dog barked. Aphra was already halfway across the river. I’m not an especially fast swimmer, but with adrenalin flowing I was moving faster than usual. Out the corner of my eye I saw Guards running toward the bridge.
Aphra reached the shore and raced off into a junk yard. By the time I hauled myself out onto the muddy bank, I could no longer see her. The yard was scattered with drums, old cars and trucks, cement sewer pipes, huge plastic barrels and countless other discarded items. I looked back and saw two Guards swimming across the river, while others were running up my side of the riverbank.
“Stop! You’re under arrest!”
More warning shots.
Then a little voice below me spoke: "In here."
Aphra was peeking out of a long cement pipe. I crawled into it and followed her down several others until we met a tunnel. She held out her hand and led me with a flashlight through several minutes of near darkness. I saw very little but heard the kissing squeaks of rats and smelled a damp odor like an old basement. That tunnel met others going in different directions, but Aphra seemed to know the way. Soon I saw a distant circle of orange light.
When we crawled out, we were near the backyard of her home. Peirce was tied up next to his doghouse. When he saw Aphra, he began barking.
Dripping wet, we briefly sat on the back stairs of the duplex to catch our breath.
Aphra was smiling widely. “We did it!”
“Yes, we did.”
“C’mon. Let’s get my stuff and change. Mummy says you can use her clothes.”
When I didn’t move, she asked, “What’s wrong?”.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m going on alone. I can’t take responsibility for you and Peirce.”
The happy expression on her face disappeared. “We’ll follow you,” she said in a defiant voice. “I know how to reach the hut and Paul gave me a key.”
My mind froze. Once again, I found myself in a corner. Like that time in university when I was one of the leaders giving the speeches and encouraging others to protest the university’s weapon research, until the campus police came, and I ran.
“I’m not going to the hut, Aphra. I’m sorry, but--”
“--I know,” Aphra said. “You’d not good with kids and dogs. Mummy said I might have to take care of you.”
“Really?”
“It’s OK. She trained me. Glen trained me.” She gazed longingly back at Harding.
What would a mother have to say to induce a child to leave her for a stranger? If Aphra can face this situation, I thought, why can’t I?
Aphra untied Peirce, picked him up and cradled him. “Don’t worry, we can do it.”
"Don't you worry either," I said softly. "She'll be fine. She has friends."
*
After we had changed into dry clothes, we gathered the items we needed into two backpacks and one small satchel. We made our way through the same tunnel and cave that Paul and I had traveled, a passage that Aphra appeared to know well.
The trip was not without tears. Seemingly oblivious to the dank environment, Aphra would suddenly stop, her flashlight pointing at the ground, and whimper. I hurried her onward through the claustrophobic tunnel crawling with snails, grubs, and worms. I yearned for the light and was relieved when we left the cave.
Because Aphra was so distraught, I suggested we spend our first night at the hut. Yet even that distance was too far. As her eyes filled again with tears, she told me she wanted to sleep on the hillside overlooking Harding. I doubted the Guard would follow us in the dark, so I accepted the risk.
It was a warm and cloudless summer night. I found an area under a large fir tree. Peirce and Aphra cuddled together and I rested on the other side of the trunk, making a pillow of bags.
“Can’t we sneak back in?” she said after a time.
“I’m sorry, Aphra. You’re safer here.”
She started to sob quietly. "I want Mummy."
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’ll see your mother soon.”
When she finally fell asleep, all was quiet except for the slight wind passing through the trees and the periodic snore of a puppy. If we were ordinary campers, it would have been an inspiring moment. We were high above the city and valley below. The lights of the houses were glittering. We could smell the dogwood, pine and many wildflowers, especially the grape odor of the Eastern Shooting Star. The river glistened as it flowed by the city. Towering around us were the mountains. All of it sunk deep into the cushion of an orange cloud.
[To be continued ...]
Poetry: Namita Rani Panda
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| Namita Rani Panda |
Look at shining sun
That scatters light all alone!
And the moon?
She also glides silently all alone
Showering silvery light
Throughout the night.
The stars too shine brilliantly
Though far from each other,
Do they complain ever?
So, why to feel gloomy in isolation?
I'm not at all forlorn
My long forgotten self is my never failing companion
With ample time to paint my canvas with my choicest hues
To delve deeper into my inner self
And ponder over what to start anew.
The memory of my dear and near,
My priceless treasure, never let me alone
That entertain me with infinite pleasure.
Now I relax from the rat race
And in rapt meditation
To thank the Almighty for His wonderful creations,
Thereby linked to His other creations.
Isolation is rejuvenation
Of long lost togetherness
And start everything afresh.
***
Colours of Love
My Darling!
No need to bring gulal in heaps
Just smear me with the colour of your lips
And I will blush like a red rose,
Nature's sweetest and loveliest kiss,
Just splash me with your warmth so loving
And I will bloom fully like a yellow sunflower
that gleefully sways and swings,
Caress me with your touch so soothing
And I will be the vibrant earth in spring
So colourful and enticing,
Drench me with your unfading colour of love
And I will be a luxuriant tree in cool rain from above
So lively and green!
***
Cancer
Cancer rose in my body like a river
That flowed forcefully
Spreading her distributaries in every direction
Without obstruction.
Cancer is a river in flood
That carries away with her
My unshakable hopes, big dreams like powerless boulders
And reduces them to small pebbles.
Now it seems as if life is flowing in slow motion
When I wait the river to mingle with the ocean
Holding tightly the grains of my diminishing dreams and hopes
That slip easily through my feeble fingers.
***
Book Review: Pearls of Strawberry Moon by Monalisa Dash Dwibedy (2020)
Review by Leonard Dabydeen
Pearls of Strawberry Moon
Monalisa Dash Dwibedy
Format: Kindle Edition
File Size: 275 KB
Print Length: 140 pages
Sold by: Amazon Asia-Pacific Holdings Private Limited
Language: English
ASIN: B086QDHJ29
₹ 0.00 (Kindle Unlimited) ₹ 62.00 to buy
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| Monalisa Dash Dwibedy |
Pearls Of Strawberry Moon: Poetry that touches
your inner being . Kindle Edition.
When the strawberry moon glows it
unfolds curiosity and enthusiasm …
Strawberry Moon is the full moon
in June. It is called "the moon that grants love come true”. The pearls
are the moments of life. You are holding a few pink pearls in your hand. Smile.
Celebrate. Cherish. ~ Monalisa Dash Dwibedy
This
book, Pearls Of Strawberry Moon, is
a relishing debut potpourri of English poems, set in an illuminating cornucopia
gemstone by bilingual poet, Monalisa
Dash Dwibedy. She also writes in Odia. The author’s 55 poems are bundles
wrapped in symbiosis with fragrances of the strawberry moon, sacrosanct in
granting love, and beautiful pearls that enhance exciting moments of life. In
140 pages the poems are composted to speak of multifaceted aspects of life –
Hippocrene of love, nature, loss, depression, travel, environment, and more.
These poems arrive from varied anthologies, including The Year of the Poet VI, Inner
Child Press; International (USA); ATUNIS (Albania); Different Truths (India);
Sillwords Press (USA); SIPAY (Seychelles); Poetry Leaves (UK) Muse India
(India), and many more. Some poems not previously published. The book is
independently Published by the Author.
In
the PROLOGUE, author Monalisa invites readers to immerse themselves in her “forest
of words”, imploring that they will see some of themselves in her poems. In the
PREFACE, Muhammad Shanazar, Poet, Critic and Translator, exudes on rich
plethora of exploding emotions and thoughts in author Monalisa’s poems. And in
the FOREWORD, Dr. Vishnu Pandya – Padma Shree and Chairman, Gujarat Sahitya
Academy (India), extends warm congratulations to Author Monalisa for unfolding
her debut book: Pearls of Strawberry
Moon. And in the last few pages of the book, Mr. Cijo Joseph Chennelil,
Poet, Critic, HOD (English), Kristu Jyoti College (India), expressed KIND WORDS
through a serenade of sweet atonement to embellish the author’s delightful
creativity in her poetry.
In
this book, Pearls of Strawberry Moon,
author Monalisa takes intricate, creative embrace of pearls reflecting“moments
of life” and parceled them into three sections: Life, Lament, and Miracle.
And in that marinated cordiality, each partition is espoused to the other in a
trickling, lingering connectivity to express her inner consciousness in a
yogic, philosophical attribute of knowing the world is ONE. There are no
CONTENTS pages; and her unorthodox, crafty, artistic poetic style reflects on
such authors as Rupi Kaur – author of milk and honey (2015), and the
sun and her flowers (2017); and Professor Indira Babbellapati – author
of From
the Biography of an Unknown Woman (2015), Nomadic Nights (2016), and Just for
once (2019).
Let’s
take a perusal in the book, Pearls of
Strawberry Moon, to see how the Moon speaks to Monalisa among the pearls of
her life. Section: Life (16 poems):
The Moon said
[prying at her curiosity]
Remember where you
came from
You are the
purpose of this universe
You suffer most when
You slip away from
your intention
Stray from your
core being or
Tell yourself untruths
about who you are
And
in her vintage poetic style, Monalisa responds with (first poem):
MY
LIFE IN TWO BLUE SUITCASES
When the distant
tracks call me
Opening their arms
I walk out of my
comfort zone
To embrace
re-dusted earth and blue skies
Time waits around
the corner
For me to return
As I bid goodbye to
my hurried pace of life
Staring far along
the open roads,
As long as the sun
looks upon me
I try not to look back
So many lives
Unlived
So many places
Unseen
Life does not pause
When I meet new faces
Exchange glances
Wonder in the
midst of
Choices made
Chances missed
And challenges met
Travelling a full
circle
Un-awakened and
unconscious life times
I wait infinitely long
The moment
consciousness dawns
The forever being,
the maker of the universe
Comes in search of me
Painted and blank
canvases I visit,
I am not bound to
any one place.
Travelling free as
a bird,
I measure my life
in two blue suitcases.
This
first poem brings to the core, shimmering enthusiasm and delight of life as
Monalisa listens to the “Strawberry Moon”. That she would “ …walk
out of my comfort zone” gives readers food for thought, to learn that
the author has a career as an IT Consultant, with poetic creativity brush
strokes on …
“Painted
and blank canvases I visit / I
am not bound to any one place.” In this contextual aplomb, she decides
to …
“…measure
my life in two blue suitcases.” Monalisa
comes from the city of Puri, in the state of Odisha, India. She now lives in
Toronto, Ontario, Canada .
And
in the flamboyance of her arrival with “two blue suitcases” in Canada, the
strawberry Moon echoes to Monalisa thus …
The Moon said
Scream at me
Let go of all your
tears
Gather your
original self
Feed your soul
with a song
Breeze through
life…
And
in unstoppable vehemence, with throb of life, Monalisa entertains us with such
poems as LOST AND FOUND, SOUL OF A FOREST, IN LOVE WITH LIFE, A BUTTERFLY, IN
PRESENCE OF THE MASTER, TO THE ATLANTIC, and more.
In
this poem …
IN PRESENCE OF THE MASTER
(see
stanza 2, lines 1-4)
He chants a prayer
Invokes the unseen
Invites to
transform
And transcend the
physical/…
the
author emboldens holistic and religious affirmation, as she strokes the poetic
canvas of life. The poem is dedicated to Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudevji, a yogi of
highest order. Monalisa is inclined to follow practice of yoga.
In
the second section titled: LAMENT is
a bundle of 22 poems.
[to quilt the
author’s equanimity]
The Moon said
There will be some
nights when all you have is yourself and me.
I can’t explain
what you mean to me or where I’d be without you.
You and me can fall in love or
You and I can become one.
The choice is yours.
It’s as if Monalisa was atuned to the voice of
Rabindranath Tagore:
Come with quick
steps over the grass.
If your feet are
pale with the dew,
If your anklets
slacken,
If pearls drop out
of your chain,
Do not mind.
Come with quick
steps over the grass.
Reading her first Lament poem …
THE NEW IMMIGRANT
(first stanza)
Where are you
from? You ask
I am from the land of
Wealth and misery
The mystic range of
Himalayan mountains
Land of bomb
blasts, surgical strikes and sufferings
Land of love,
yoga, sun and devotion
I am from border
village of India and Pakistan/
Being new immigrant herself, from Puri, Odisha, India to
Toronto, Canada, Monalisa asks the question that strikes at the core of every
immigrant leaving home. And her answer in this vibrant, evocative first stanza
of THE NEW IMMIGRANT, leaves you spellbound. More so if you are an immigrant
yourself (or like myself). The depth of sensitivity is an indelible lament,
rich with imagery of home thoughts.; serenading the ambivalence of Life.
In the third stanza, Monalisa speaks of her arrival in
Canada, engaging readers to feel and share her sensibility…
This is a very new city, do you feel home?
You ask.
On the hillside in the bright daylight
I see the birds fly with same zeal in their flight
The garden near that lawn
I watch the new plants being born
The same way they are born on my land
When it rains here
Leaves shine.
In the last stanza (last two lines), Monalisa’s lament bursts with a
sigh…
Tulips in the spring and Camellia in winter
Suddenly felt like home.
As if this section – Lament – brings readers to pause and prune trailing poems with deep
emotions, here is a caviar that will thrust readers into the refreshing last
section: Miracle of which the MOON
speaks to Monalisa for comfort:
THE NEW IMMIGRANT in section Lament was selected as the winning
poem in the International Rabindranath
Tagore Award 2020, making Monalisa a crown jewel of poetry on the international
platform.
In the eyes of Jury Panel member for this award
competition, Avik Gangopadhyay, Kolkata, West
Bengal, India …
Congratulations Monalisa Dash Dwibedy. Your approach is different from
others, your achievement is truly commendable. Many dream, some try and only a
few achieve. You are an achiever today.
Other poems that ripple with emotive depth and sensuality in the
founding pearls of Monalisa’s Lament section
include, TWO LITTLE WORDS, BETTER FAR, SLAVE, TEARS, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME, YOU
ARE NOT ALONE, SHELTER, A LITTLE GIRL I DO NOT WANT TO BE BORN, LOST FRIENDS,
and more. Sometimes you can feel the emotions within your heart as in reading
this poem (speaking of the environment):
SAVE THE PLANET
(second stanza – lines 1-3)
Do we truly realize what trees do for us?
What the trees exhale, we inhale
Do we know, they are the basis of our breath…
And in a spate of
mind-set probity to wave a bruised stroke on her Temper canvas, the author
writes …
TRUTH HURTS
(third stanza)
We write poems on love, gender-equality
Forgiveness and hope
Do we ever listen truly?
The painful story of a shattered human being
People do not like, when truth hurts…
In SILENT DEATH, the author brings marginalization of women in
India to a new awareness (first stanza)
We were silent seven years ago
We were silent yesterday
We are silent, even today
Reeling emotions on atrocities of women like Nirbhaya and Priyanka Reddy
in the past decade.
In the last Temper poem, author Monalisa speaks to readers of our present
pandemic, as she writes…
CORONA
Remain still, let silence be your voice
Pray, be grateful for being alive.
In the final section, Miracles – 18 poems - author
Monalisa wipes the Temper tear drops, only to return as a sparkler. It’s as if,
in wiping the somber, Temper moments of Life…
The Moon said
With me, hearts do not shatter
They blossom…
And Kahlil Gibran stokes the author’s Kindle fire, saying …
Humanity is a river of light from the ex-eternity to eternity.
In the first poem titled:
A THOUSAND LOVE AFFAIRS
(stanza 4)
I love you if you’re toothless
I love you if you’re blind
anything that’s wrong with you
to me you’ll be fine/
This must be “miracle” from the Eternal, but there seems to be a smile
on the readers’ faces to speak of trust and faith. But the author gets her way,
as it were.
In the second poem:
WHAT YOU SEEK
(last stanza, lines 1-3)
How it feels
When the Universe sends signals to you
When the ether answers your prayers
Here is, indeed, the topping of the author’s Miracle, as the Moon
speaks:
The Moon said
Love your solitude
I’m always alone but not lonely for a moment…
And again..,
I know life isn’t always sunny and colorful, sometimes days get rainy
and so hard that they hurt. Sometimes you feel life is falling apart. Brave the
day. Settle down with me in the evening, let me kiss you. All I want is to be with
you.
Amidst the starlight strawberry Moon, a sparkling glow of Miracle poems
by Monalisa leaves you with impeccable bliss, to wit :
THE WORLD GOES BLIND
(last two lines)
Infuse a little grease of divinity and bliss
To rusty hearts of human beings.
FALL
(Stanza 3, lines 1-4 )
Life seeks us out
Alone and naked
Uninformed, unlearned
Yet others understand…
The urge to leaf through the poems in this book, rich in soft,
melodramatic tone, with metaphors layered in silver and gold, primed with
elegance of human metamorphoses in life, will unequivocally satiate your love
for enjoyable English literature. This book is a must read.
Leonard
Dabydeen (
Published author, Member of the Law Society of Ontario (Retired). Poet, English Literature critic, Book Reviewer.
Poetry: David Francis
He has written and directed the films "Village Folksinger" (2013) and "Memory Journey" (2018). His poems and short stories have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies.
www.davidfrancismusic.com
To Montaigne
M. Montaigne,
I cannot leave you
despite the repetitions and
perturbations, contrariness
and consistency—
despite your book the
second—about to skip
“Use Makes Perfect,” struggling
to stay awake through
no fault of your own
but a weight on my heart—
light, transcendence, adaptation
suddenly and, spirited,
I thrilled to even the English
of one of your sentences—“a
genius,” I must have moved
my lips—the will is above
the sleep of existence—
despite the weight on my heart
I cannot leave you
for those “who look upon
themselves as a third person
only, a stranger.”
***
After Lucretius
Believing law to be necessary,
that dark error and light truth
never change; and one lives
not merely lip-serves
these not imposed but sought after
observed principles which bring peace;
one welcomes the nodding lid
of evening, which dreams of night and sleep,
having blinked just to shutter
glaring particles and impediments of dust
and not to live in blind fear.
***
In the Caf├й
The sounds of solitude are grunts and sighs;
you start talking to yourself
in the indiscriminate way
you look around with your eyes.
Staring, speech, these human acts
are exaggerated
in exact proportion to how the
un-lonely have them underrated.
This solitary man
puts out vibrations in a quavering tone:
or is it the visual
of merely being alone?
Solitude is not loneliness,
say the Stoics—
but it feels like loneliness
nevertheless.
***
Inspiration
You flicker like the candle in the glass
you illumine a few words on the page
but to read them I suffer from eyestrain
and when it lowers you shrink to darkness
***
All You Have
All you have
is not
all you have
it’s a part
of you
until you die
You think you’re
short,
with a spare tire
and a poverty
of this
But I tell you
it’s
in the mind
and it just needs
bringing out
If you want
you can be a
miser
or you can spend
it
All you have
of patience, freedom, and
desire
it’s a part
of you
until you die
***
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