Saturday, 6 April 2024

Five Poems by Inam Hussain Begg Mullick

 




 

Six Episodes

 

1.

 

In a raspy voice

the hailstorm

spoke.

The hailstorm

chased

electric mice.

The kittens slept and dreamed

of blue railyards.

 

2.

 

She opens the window

to a silk city.

A goldfinch beaks

the winter's soft

nerve.

 

3.

 

In the streets,

a martyr bleeds

and hears God's voice.

Immortal tigers

ride the sun.

 

4.

 

Two sparrows embrace

in the garden of the heart.

I carry the wind

in my hair

and appear at your door—

my bones illumined

by your gaze.

I know your lips are ageless rivers.

 

5.

 

On a violet dawn,

the sand becomes a prayer.

The Cassiopeia touches and bepaints the earth,

terpsichores.

 

6.

 

A man reads the newspaper

and asks for

lunar coffee.

Our breaths

enlace

at the storm's carnival.

 

 

Talismans

 

Through the night

soft halo explosions,

 

immortal routes

and

inner blooms,

 

space craze boom leap embryo

 

rain, rain

 

thrill omnivores,

this carnival,

 

occulting

light,

 

reason is an acrobat.

 

 

“You said I smelt of dusk”

 

You said

I smelt

of dusk,

 

your

wild wind

at dusk,

 

stay with me

in this

difficult

love,

the stars will come out soon

and the pottery

of light

will resume

in

this hot month's

garden.

 

 

A Nocturne for Inamorata

 

Sky-mermaids yodel

to summer,

we are in

a marshy moment’s

frenzy—

your forests of ochre and ardour.

 

Barachiel

besprinkles

rose upon the hot desert and the dream-eyed camels,

 

Sandalphon guards

the children of a white summer,

Israfil's song

resonates

in moondust mansions and mulberry

orchards—

then our

dialogues in water.

 

“Among this scented tea

and wine,

let’s speak of love,

art and religious warfare.”.

 

You ignore

the rumours

and navigate

through the hair of my history

with tender fingers—the pregnant dolphins of light.

 

I hiss at your nocturnal mouth's solace,

we even breathe

silk.

 

 

Quietness

 

    1

 

    A summer

    rolls away

    towards

    violet velds;

    in the cafeteria of moonlight,

    a kyanite horse

    eavesdrops

    upon the rainy interludes.

   

    2

   

    Blue roses

    in rain,

    I divine

    the extirpation

    of Gog and Magog.

   

    3

   

    Rivers

    of light,

    Akbar's

    ice hockey twilight box.

   

    4

   

    The light of fireflies

    wraps the earth

    at dusk,

    ten flower villages,

    thimbles, Solomon's Seals and klees,

    wildflowers and ghosts,

    my tongue

    is protest's journal.

   

    5

   

    Arhats

    of the throbbing

    forests,

    summer

    is asleep,

    leaf and silence.

   

    6

   

    Muscadelle

    nights,

    asymmetric lunar

    eagle,

    I walk with Muhammad and Musa.

   

    7

   

    Leaves

    in wind;

    Isa brings to life

    the war-martyred Russians

    my valorous brothers,

    no sacrifice

    was in

    vain—

    rising solar meadows.

   

    8

   

    Misty road, greyshine.

    Lamps

    of heaven, infinite waking river,

    waking winter.

   

    9

   

    Golden songbird,

    oceanic heavenly bisonry.

   

    10

   

    Joseph of Copertino

    levitated, chanted the Virgin's name—

    the dance ecstatic.

    The blind eyes

    of Richard Church

    sang with light,

    the people and

    the city

    pulsating ornaments.

 

 

 


 

Inam Hussain Begg Mullick is an award-winning Kolkatan polymath. His most recent book of poems is The Magical Life of Inamorato (Writers Workshop). He is the Director-Founder-Editor, The Kolkata Arts. Inam teaches Creative Writing.

Six Episodes was previously published in The Kolkata Arts and Durgapur Review. The rest were published in the book The Magical Life of Inamorato by Writers Workshop. 

 


Five Poems by Jackie Chou

 



At the End of the Day

 

Our day ends when it is time to part

My lids fall with the curtain of night

For darkened dreams, I depart

 

To the starry sky my black horse darts

Deep in slumber, I'm my own knight

Our day ends when it is time to part

 

To chase joy, a forgotten art

I must with my own demons fight

For darkened dreams, I depart

 

The surreal realm has made me smart

To defeat the darkness with my light

Our day ends when it is time to part

 

Like everything is free, I load my cart

Pushing its weight with all my might

For darkened dreams, I depart

 

In separate worlds, we're apart

My lone pursuit brings no plight

Our day ends when it is time to part

For darkened dreams, I depart.


 

Red Leaves

 

Red leaves fall like sliced-up hearts

Bloodying the rain-wet sidewalk

Against the cold my crossed-arm guards

 

To the base sparrows I give my regards

At my lone figure they appear to gawk

Red leaves fall like sliced-up hearts

 

Life deals me many unfortunate cards

Of my failures the wind seems to talk

Against the cold my crossed-arm guards

 

Pursuing stardom in obscure arts

At my ideas the mainstreamers balk

Red leaves fall like sliced-up hearts

 

Hanging around a group of bards

My mere ink on paper I try to hawk

Against the cold my crossed-arm guards

 

For these rough streets I lack the smarts

So back to the care home I walk

Red leaves fall like sliced-up hearts

Against the cold my crossed-arm guards




On the Bakery Patio



The pigeons stop by only for the crumbs

Pecking at a fallen cake by my feet

The ground speckled with blackened gums



No one is out at this time but the bums

This lounge chair my permanent seat

The pigeons stop by only for the crumbs



Dreaming day and night with no qualms

I've become a fixture on the street

The ground speckled with blackened gums



To this solitude I've become numb

There's nobody I'm here to meet

The pigeons stop by only for the crumbs



Some look at me as if I am dumb

Walking everywhere in the cold and heat

The ground speckled with blackened gums



The feasting birds seem anything but glum

Though they cannot taste the sweet

The pigeons stop by only for the crumbs

The ground speckled with blackened gums


 

The Enigma

 

I come and go,

but most of the time

you'd find me leaving,

out the door,

a flash of a silhouette 

disappearing into the blue,

like the sparrow 

fluttering away from the fountain,

realizing I'm not going 

to share my sandwich,

chirping into the distance,

the way I call your name from afar,

gazing at the same brilliant sun.


 

The Fairy


You appear in my memory
on a blue-cheese moon,
a blurry silhouette in the clouds,
whispering your whereabouts in the wind.


You turn your back to me,
ebony-haired,
your slim figure vanishing
into the grey fog of yesteryear.

You breathe ethereal air,
eat fruits from otherworldly soil,
and like a fairy
your wings flap eternally


above my outstretched hands.





Jackie Chou is a poet of Japanese short-form poetry and free verses from Southern California. Her collection of poems Finding My Heart in Love and Loss can be purchased on Amazon.  Besides writing, she loves to watch Jeopardy and talent competitions on TV.  


Thursday, 4 April 2024

Congratulations Maria Teresa Sisti - on her Haiku Poem Making the 2023 Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems — Long List - The Haiku Foundation

 



2023 Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems — Long List - The Haiku Foundation


broken rice bowl-

I never stopped

to be a daughter


     —Maria Teresa Sisti, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Friday, June 16, 2023; KM100NZ International Haiku Competition 2023



Lothlorien Poetry Journal: Six Haiku Poems by Maria Teresa Sisti





Maria Teresa Sisti - Born and raised in Belgium until the age of twelve when she moved permanently to Italy for family and study reasons.

She began to read and study haiku in 2014, deciding to write her own with the help of everything that her gaze, touch and smell can capture from nature, life and everyday life that surround her.

She has participated in literary competitions obtaining important awards.

Her poems have been published online and in printed magazines in Italy and around the world.

She was listed in the European Top 100 haiku authors and at 2021 she published her first haiku collection "Piccoli semi di arancio" ( Little orange seeds ) printed in Italy on behalf of Accademia Barbanera.

Wednesday, 3 April 2024

One Poem by Xuanhui Jin(Kim)

 



Colour Palette


In the centre of the canvas,

a small town quietly immerses itself in the night.

The outlines of wilderness, cottages, churches,

and villages emerge against a backdrop

Of interwoven blue and black lines.

Straight lines and twisted lines cast reflections,

Twisted yet sometimes straight.

 

The stars are clusters of yellow yolks,

The moon is a yellow flame, sickeningly oversized.

Both stars and moon shine brightly,

turning the sky into a pan with spilled oil,

while the Milky Way swirls like the shape of the wind.

Yellow, white, blue, black,

Then yellow turns into blue,

Blue turns into black.

 

I can’t quite explain it,

It’s the wind sweeping,

the Earth moving,

the halo of stars.

Abrupt pine trees with twisted branches

awkwardly stretch upward,

blocking the forefront,

swaying strangely with the wind.

Each branch is a black flame.

 

The pointed rooftops also seem abrupt,

disrupting harmony.

If everything were straight, horizontal lines,

the nighttime blue mountains

Wouldn’t resemble mountains.

They’d seem more like surging waves,

ready to engulf the trees, houses, and wilderness.

 

Have you ever felt like being swallowed up too?

A soul pursuing freedom has only a window for company.

And I heard that some scenes in the painting are your imagination.

You are like that abrupt and seemingly mad tree,

imagining licking the sky but unable to reach.

Your world is so serene, so neat,

yet so exaggerated, so mentally tense.

 

Perhaps people are all the same,

trees are the same,

houses are the same---

all wanting to reach higher.

All aspire to happiness and freedom.

The trajectories of nebulae are entangled,

Don’t be too attached

and it’s only after death that you are honoured as a king.


By Xuanhui Jin(Kim)


Two Poems by Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

 



Recreating Home

Almost human in their intuitiveness
The objects sensed we were leaving home
Going far away, the possibility of return, slim.
Determined not to be left behind
after sixteen years of gracing our lives
they snuggled themselves into suitcases
among the clothes and personal effects. 

The green Kashmiri carpet,

the tall walnut lamp, the Indian dolls,

the samovar, the hookah,

the shawls, the small walnut lamps,

the photo albums shedding their covers

like snakes shedding their skins.

No missing out on this adventure.

 

Convinced they could enhance the experience,

reduce the ache for the homeland, they travelled.

Worth it to endure the cold in the hold of the plane

Only the luggage restrictions could limit home

or more objects might have made the journey.

 

The Book of Children’s Bible stories decided it was too heavy

Though it was worth its weight in gold.

 

The Beatles' song ‘She’s leaving Home,’ hums in my head.

Father’s words, “ Stay and do something for your country.”

 

Three flights and countless miles later

Buying an unfamiliar brand of milk

from the convenience store across the park

The urge to make chai, the stamp of every Indian

Sans chai one is never fully at home,

The owner wanted to know where we learned English.

 

Then there was that object

That travelled unbeknownst to us

The door from a friend’s home

a separation of living room from dining room

installed itself, picture perfect, transforming magically

into our magnificent sunroom door

memories of friendship in the smell of its wood,

A door can make you feel at home!

 

The only things we couldn’t bring

Were the mountains, the valley, the mists

the smell of the pines, the roar of the panther,

the paths covered in soft seductive red

as the Rhododendron dropped their flowers

the chai shop at Jabarkhet on Tehri Road

where a cup of tea for a small price

Included the splendour of the Himalayan mountains

A glimpse of the plains of Dehra Dun between.

 

(Published in Verse-Virtual)




 

Pájaros en la Calle


(Birds in the Street, in Spanish)

 

In the Land of Eternal Spring,

my granddaughter, not quite three yet

stands by the window in a hotel room

her hips swaying in a dance

left to right, left to right, round and round.

Suddenly she calls to her father

‘Papi, Papi, pájaros en la calle.’

 

He rushes to the window

a bird swoops down from above

falls gracefully to the street below.

‘Pájaros en la calle’, she cries repeatedly,

pointing to the bird in motion.

The bird keeps swooping from sky to ground

Seems to put on a show just for her

It has caught her excitement.

 

In another city in another continent

I stand at the kitchen window

watching a bird with a long pointed beak

flaming red underside, singing sweetly

on the roof of the neighbour’s garage

that juts out onto my backyard.

 

I look up a book of Canadian birds

I discover it’s a red breasted Nuthatch.

I say to myself ‘ pájaros en la calle’

The little girl is a poet with perfect imagery

A birdwatcher like her great-grandfather!

Someday I will read his poem “Poet, Lover, Birdwatcher’ to her

She will understand the bond, I know.

 

I have yet to meet my granddaughter

My new home is where she is

where there are ‘ pájaros en la calle’

Where there is poetry, dance, and mountains

Love of a pure and undistilled kind.

 

My imagination has bridged the continents

The birds in her country are different

From the birds here where I am

Their songs of love may sound different

There are ‘pájaros en la calle’

in every land

 

Only one little girl

Leaves me yearning for that home

In the land of eternal spring.

 

(Published in Verse-Virtual)

 







Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca’s first book of poems, 'Family Sunday and other Poems', was published in 1989. Her poem ‘How to Light up a Poem', was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. ‘Light of The Sabbath’ is her recently published chapbook. She has taught English, French and Spanish, in private schools in India and overseas, for over four decades. Her poems have been published in several anthologies, including the Journal of Indian Literature published by The Sahitya Akademi, and the three issues of the Yearbooks of Indian Poetry in English. She holds a Master’s Degree in English and French from the University of Bombay, and a Master’s Degree in Education from Oxford Brookes University in Oxford, England. Kavita is the daughter of the late poet Nissim Ezekiel. 

Five Poems by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

  Walter Sickert Art Walter Sickert's Reluctant Light   Ash from the forest fires falls from the sky. It is dark in the mornings, ...