Duane’s PoeTree: Reena Prasad writes


Someone Came Knocking at Duane’s PoeTree

If the scene could hold the eyes
like eyes cling to passing scenes
Yours and mine wouldn’t be strangers still

Source: Duane’s PoeTree: Reena Prasad writes

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An Anthology of Poems Dedicated to World Humanitarian Day | Different Truths


Happy to be be among the 48 poets who wrote their hearts out for this compelling collection from Different Truths and The Significant League on FB.
‘Jasmine-Scented’ & ‘Other Tongue’ feature at the 4th and 5th slots.
Kashmir, Syria, Patriarchy, Inequity, LGBT rights, Human trafficking, Rohingyas and many other sensitive issues are brought out in these poems.
The anthology is edited by eminent poets, Dr. Koshy A. V.,Sana Rose, Niladri(Neel Kamal) and Urooj Murtaza. Thanks are due to Arindam Roy and Anumita Chatterjee Roy of Different Truths for this stupendous collection.

The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer an Anthology on World Humanitarian Day (WHD), the sixth tie-up between the two. Seventy four poems, by 48 poets, showcase the h…

Source: An Anthology of Poems Dedicated to World Humanitarian Day | Different Truths

An Anthology of World Refugee Day Poems | Different Truths


Read on what it means to not have a home to return to.
Read on for “We live in the age of the refugee, the age of the exile”
-Ariel Dorfman

The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer an Anthology on World Refugee Day (WED), the fifth tie-up between the two.  Sixty nine poems, one be each poet, showcase the hu…

Source: An Anthology of World Refugee Day Poems | Different Truths

Ostraka ( at number 3)
In a massive urn, shards welter with scratched out names
We leave today for siding with life, for making a noise
about the smoke from a pyre lit under us

Out over the ocean
where the sharks have no check posts, no countries
just the seamlessness of hunger and life

I throw my children out of the inferno
They giggle and tumble over dead laps, clutching at nothing

I clutch at everything
from paper money to memories but my hands, once great
at scooping up babies are now giant sieves

I lose them all finally
The lie fluttering over the land
The identity that singes my lips when I plead
Scrap-proofs of my existence- all consigned
to earth as I run, run, run

We step over bodies,
ignore dying pleas and hug the remainders
to make it to another dawn
under the same sun and sky
The choking smoke of yesterday
repackaged as a gulp of oxygen

Over the barbs, into another lying boundary
that creases rapidly, tearing us into scraps
Shaken out like dust from a map
till the world pressing in from all sides
narrows its vision to a pin point
surrounded by a dancing debris of outcasts

Only underwater or in the skies
does life thrive limitlessly. The rest have to flee.
© Reena Prasad
Thank you Ampat Koshy, Gauri Dixit, Deepti Singh (Editors) Arindam Roy and Anumita Roy Chatterjee (of DT) for this collection of 73 heart felt poems.

When Black Holes Collide


 

Honoured to share a poem by Dr. Koshy A.V which made me think of black holes and the waves they generate.

[Untitled]

If there was a planet
With two moons
A system with two suns
Two poets with the same fire
singing different tunes
Lit by the same flair/flare
Of incandescent genius
And its lambent eyes
Those waxing and waning moons
Those living burning dying suns
Those immortal poets twain
And the cosmic poetic galaxies
Of their poems
Swirling in never settling stardust
That would be you and I
That could only be I and you
©Ampat Koshy

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Image :  Artistic rendering of gravitational waves caused by merging black holes :NASA

 

 

Songs of the Earth: An Anthology of World Environment Day Poems | Different Truths


‘Songs of The Earth’, the poetic anthology for World Environment Day at Different Truths today. Another great collaboration effort between TSL-DT ably edited by four eminent poets Dr. Ampat Koshy, Niladri Ranjit Chakraborty Ritamvara Bhattacharya and Gowri Suresh. Thank you Editors! Thanks DT team esp. Arindam Roy Da.
Wonderfully apt artwork by Michele Baron!
My poem is at N0.12.

12. Earth Poem

Poems are unearthed when the soil is moved
Some sun, happy sweat and a lot of grime
A bird chirruping away to itself
The scent of a banana flower, freshly watered greens
A few nodding buds, mud under nails, bare feet
Straggling vines, a sprightly sapling new
The comfort of my back against the stout trunk
of a grandfather tree
Ants on their march, snails housed in pots
Choosy, spoilt butterflies
and a profusion of defiant weeds
There is nothing here
that doesn’t hold me captive
The moss covers every crack
Even the faint breeze heals


I wish to lie here, in a flower bed
or under the thick canopy
dotted with yellow allamandas
hearing a golden oriole flute its song
watching the trees explode with spring
feeling the power, the invincibility of the infinite blue
feeding the first rain drops to my skin


To die in this earth garden
and have only the bees buzz about it
Now that would be poetry
©Reena Prasad

The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer an Anthology on World Environment Day (WED), 59 poems, one be each poet, showcasing deep concern against degradation of our env…

Source: Songs of the Earth: An Anthology of World Environment Day Poems | Different Truths

A Review of Allusions to Simplicity


This review is from Amazon.in  : Allusions to Simplicity/ Koshy A.V (Paperback)
The book is available at  Amazon.in and Authorspress

The cover of Dr Koshy’s new book of poems “Allusions to Simplicity” published by Authorspress is disarmingly easy on the eye and matches the book’s title to a T. The ocean and tan colors and clean, simple lines give it a quiet elegance.

The poems, from the viewpoint of a reader who reads poetry for its pure pleasure, are plain-spoken narratives incorporating – and being – complete experiences in themselves, without resorting to dazzling readers with poetic histrionics. Their feel and sentiments endure way past the page and the book, and sear. “After Rilke” opens the innings and remains a firm favorite over time.
The poet succeeds completely in defying the trend of Indian-English poet-aspirants writing a great deal of ‘ephemeral’ poetry which looks beautiful but when you read it aloud kills the poem (and sometimes the reader too) because of its sheer absurdity.
Let me quote a few verses randomly:
I won’t do what you did, though/Enough for me to fade away, Vincent /like a mist on a morning that gets hotter”(How to Make Myself Vanish)
Anna” startles because you don’t expect to hear such an honest thought said aloud and for once feel glad that you have no company.

Between all the usual, worn out phrases/ The writing remains, fragile and tenuous
You give not knowing what you gave/ and take not knowing what you took/ till you are no more/
and something remains if it is meant to/or does not”(from Images Disjunct (2))
One can take such verses and apply them to wherever one is, with regard to writing or to life and they hold good. Many of the poems demonstrate a willingness on the part of the poet to experiment with form, topic, style, and to share emotions and thoughts without reservation thus putting them in a class of their own with their own brand of striking imagery
The crow picks up the beads of its red eyes/ Its red maw caws once/
The child shudders/and closes her eyes/She vanishes in a puffy haze/
without a trace/from the crow’s eyes”
(A Crow Hops on the Tracks)

And there is no dearth of beauty in poems like When Musanda Thickly Covered My Green Stems, Eyes We Dare not Meet in Dreams and many more
The third and the best part of the book (IMO) is a fascinating romp through heavily allusive thought fields. The rhymes and rhythm are thoroughly unconventional but make music even more readily. I am actually a bit appalled to find that even a veiled threat of violence manages to be so thrilling.
Destroy you and the whole earth. I swear.
Storm petrel. Awakening.
(I Will Not Leave Anything Unrazed, My Love)

Aria and Africa are some of the other treats in this collection, unrivaled in their range and gamut of emotions that disturb as much as affirm and cause outrage while they provoke thought.
At the very end of the book is the poem that led to the Pushcart nomination, now retitled as ‘Shayer’ and at ‘Shatarupa’ when I left the book, I realized that there is a deep pleasure in getting access to a vast field that exists in a poet’s eye—and it has been such a joy to loiter there and be totally inspired. Great poetry…sigh!
©Reena Prasad

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P.S
That brief, staccato dedication is infinitely more poetic than anything I have ever written. To say thanks here to a teacher, friend, salvager and off the ledge-hauler who has taught me most of what I’m now  would be grossly inadequate but I hope to do it with a book someday.

 

Anthology on Bonded Labour | Different Truths


“Willingly no one chooses the yoke of slavery”
— Aeschylus

Reminding us of this grim truth is this excellent and poignant collection of poems from The Significant League with its outstanding crop of poets and excellent editors at the helm- Dr Ampat Koshy, Urooj Murtaza and Ipsita Ganguly. Thank you dear Editors and the Different Truths Team of Arindam Roy and Anumita Chatterjee Roy for giving us an opportunity to write and read such beautiful poems and that too as a service to mankind. Poetry at its best. Happy May Day!

The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer an Anthology on Bonded Labour, 60 poems, one be each poet, full of pathos and pain.

Source: Anthology on Bonded Labour | Different Truths

The first poem in this collection is mine titled ‘Paro’s Girl’

Paro’s Girl
She was the sound of a pot being scrubbed
And drummed upon, a visual rooster call
Framed through a red iron grill, in the grey dawn
Was her bowed squat, the permanent sniff,
Wispy thin arms and unkempt plait
Yet she was invisible
A rag bundle among the crows
The sleeves of her frock stopped where my gaze too did
Not wanting to add five burnt fingers scarred into a claw
To the discomfiture of being clothed in privilege.

She was Paro’s girl.
Paro, dirt exterminator by day
And physiotherapist by night.
From a hidden perch, I watched in awe
As soot black feet stamped on the prone
Rickshaw puller’s flesh and bones.
Houses trembled when her tongue lashed.
Yet her absence was a natural disaster
An infant hung from her black breasts,
But the girl was a contract forgotten
A loan obtained when she had none of her own.

‘Maa’ an attempt to bond with another bonded one
Whose voice and swagger were defense mechanisms,
But who couldn’t bring herself to call the labour-sharer
A daughter, but then these were all written indelibly in stone.
I believed with all the wisdom of being eight,
An unknown bond they had somehow signed
One I couldn’t read.
Paro’s girl scrubbed on with her mesh of heirloom scars
No one remembered that she had never been named.

©Reena Prasad