Jun 30th

An Enexpected, Pleasant Surprise!!!

By Paddy

Truly a pleasant surprise to see my poem translated into Arabic by the Palestinian Scholar, poet and writer Nizar Sartawi and published in a newpaper there!!! Click HERE

 Palestinian translator, columnist, essayist and poet Nizar Sartawi is a member of the Jordanian Writers Association, General Union of Arab Writers, and Asian-African Writers Union. He is also a Board Member of both the Poetry Posse in the U.S. and Axlepin Publishing in the Philippines. He writes in both Arabic and English. He has authored more than twenty books of poetry and poetry translation. He has been anthologized in numerous books in Jordan, Kuwait, Morocco, the U.S. India, and the Philippines. His poetry has also been published in both print and online magazines and newspapers in different parts of the world. He has participated in poetry readings and festivals in Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco, Kosovo, and Palestine.

https://www.alfikre.com/articles.php?id=37187

 

Jun 29th

On my two scores and two.

By Partha

On my two scores and two
what if I redefine love?
The first love to a philosopher is like to discover a popular myth.
The first flame fades into the creases of time
that has licked many flames with its fiery tongue.
Why should I count them and put them in a line
down the road of my life like milestones
what call up the distance traveled and to be traveled?
I don`t remember the amount of oxygen
I have taken from the air on the half way past walk.
Half way only roughly speaking
for the God knows where the way goes up!
Time is the only touchstone that brands a love true love.
But truth and lies to a philosopher are just subject of time
for truth of the past was truth in the past
and truth of the present may belie the present.

On my two scores and two
what if I redefine life?
So many collages made by this magpie
are broken and kept in one obscure store room.
So many rivers in me have changed their courses
and moved from their dreamland to a different dreamland.
With two scores and two stones under my feet
I am a rock against the vagaries of urchin weather.
In ten to twenty years I will grow a mountain
with many rocks and trees all over me.
I will not die like a river.
I will not lie like a sea.
The mountain will see in it the volcano
against all the cold and mist covering its torso.

Jun 29th

Mother

By mgk

                                                                                                            எம் . ஜி . கே 

 

 

நீ இல்லையே கண்ணீர் துடைக்க ஒரு கை போல் இல்லை 

 

 

நீ இல்லையே தலையை சாய்க்க ஒரு மாடி போல் இல்லை 

 

 

நீ இல்லையே தாலாட்டு படிக்க காற்றும் இல்லை 

 

 

நீ இல்லையே என் தந்தையின் சரிபாதி இல்லை 

 

 

நீ இல்லையே என் கடவுள் பூமியில் இல்லை 

 

 

நீ இல்லையே எம் உலகில் இருளே எல்லை 

 

 

 

எத்தனை தவங்கள் செயதேனோ இ ஜென்மத்தில் உன்னை என் தாயாய் பெற

 

 

மீண்டும் ஒரு ஜென்மம் இருந்தால் அதிலும் உன்னை என் தாயாய் பெற 

 

 

வேண்டுகிறேன் தாயே .. 

 

 

Translation:

 

Without you there's no hand to wipe my tears.

Without you there's no shoulder I could rest my head on.

Without you there's no wind to hum the lullabies.

Without you there's no better half to my father.

Without you  there's no god on earth for me.

Without you darkness is my only reach.

 

How many years of good deeds has given me a mother like you for this life ?

If there is another birth, I request to get you as my mother again. 

 

Mgk 

 

 

 

 

 

Jun 29th

The life.

By Anand kumar.

The life.

 

I travel my memory line

With seven decades of life in mind

Full of hopes and despair

And lot of goals to aspire.

 

Varied wishes and frown frustrations

Melancholic mind and momentous glees

Mélange people; bizarre pleasures

Life is a bed of roses, often so we hear

At times thorns, here and there.

 

Life is a play, where people come and go

Some are heroes, some are villains

Some are clowns who make us to laugh

Some are like rainbow, vanish after sun-set.

 

At our birth people rejoice

After our death, we rejoice in peace

Life is a secret between birth and death

That comes to an end after our last breath.

 

BY:

V Anand Kumar.

(Written on my 70th birth day)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jun 29th

Come back to me

By Anand kumar.

Come back to me.

Tender touch; mellifluous voice

Nurturing kind; gentle like a flower

I found heaven under your feet.

Perennial source of happiness

Pleasing countenance

of enduring patience

Perpetual pristine water

of love and kindness

You were like a butterfly

spreading happiness everywhere.

Like a busy bee you worked

day and night.

Supreme sacrifices you made for me.

Singing lullaby, I found you beside my bed.

“ Oh Ma! I remember you on this day

Come back to me

For I need your lap to place my head upon

as I haven’t slept for a long.”

 

 

(Written on the eve of my birth day in memory of my mother)

 

 

 

                                             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jun 27th

Communication

By Rajeev

" You know, you know" you say

after almost every sentence

am I a mind reader that I should know

even before you have spoken?

 

Cut out the frills like the

many " I think, I think s"

or repeating same word many times for style

and you will get to me faster and clearer,

 believe me, there's merit in simplicity....

 

Jun 27th

Saying yes Always? Say NO too

By Shernaz

Being compliant at the drop of a hat is a metaphor for ‘I am a door mat, walk all over me with your dirty feet.’ We need to exit this club of ‘people pleasers’ in a hurry and put back the word ‘no’ in our personal interactions. Shernaz dwells on the art of saying no, something that’s not easy, in the weekly column, exclusively for  Truths.

 

 

Jun 26th

SILENCE OF THE WOODS

By Annapurna

SILENCE OF THE WOODS

A Annapurna Sharma

 

At dawn, the streaks of sunlight in a grumble

Unwilling to break into the jungle in jumble

The wind buzzed like a bumble bee to zoom in

And ruffled and stooped the branches by the chin

Till they kissed the mossy jungle floor

Oh! Is it the old banyan core?

Must be! Giggled the birdies

Ouch! The monstrous wind in eddies!

My back!

Ah! One last whack!

Whisked the wind with a wicked laugh

The old banyan creaked and wailed in half

Worms tumbled out of its warm hollow trunk

Mynahs, crows, doves, bulbuls darted in chunk

For the big catch

The koel whistled in match

To usher the hearty first meal

SHE reveled in the cacophony of the zeal

That blended in the silence sown

The silence that was of the woods alone!

 

 

(SHE is Mother nature)

Jun 25th

Inside The Wooden Frame

By Jane

The rhythmic drum of raindrops against the glass, as if demanding attention from all those around is all that can be heard; then a booming clap racked shivers throughout the body of the young female sitting down on the white-marbled floor. She grasped her brown tresses tightly as she tried to calm her thundering heart; which was relentless in its quest of mimicking the beat of the droplets. She could hear soft whimpers resonating throughout the small space. She slowly opened her eyes and scanned the room in search for the source of the foreign sound.

As she glanced at the dark mahogany table beside her she saw a picture of a woman and a small child. The picture itself had an energy she could not describe. She could almost hear the laughter of the woman as she tried to tame the wild brown mane of the small child, she could almost smell the salt that seemed to cling to the very breeze which played and danced with the woman as she valiantly tried to accomplish her task, and she could almost feel the joy that was clearly present in the eyes of both the woman and the small child.

The young woman dropped the picture frame as she jumped and covered her erratic heart threatening to escape its cages as she heard another booming clap followed by a more aggressive sound of drumming against the windows. She could hear the whimpers once again. Her gaze, once again in search of the sound, circles the room until she finds a large wooden frame and inside the frame was a young woman with the same mane of brown hair as the small child in the picture, the clothes she wore appeared to be stretched as if it had been tightly grasped over and over again and the jeans she wore, along wither sleeves, were decorated with blotches of wetness and dust; all of which completed the disheveled appearance of the young woman in the wooden frame.

As she walked closer to the spectacle the young woman in the frame moved closer, mimicking her movements and alternating swing of her arms. She stopped when she was in front of the young woman and moved her hand as if to reach out to her.

Surely the young woman mimicked her actions, from the slight trembling of fingers to the deep breath she took as she slowly reached out to the young woman in the wooden frame. With her fingers drawing nearer and nearer she could feel the continuous drop in the air’s temperature surrounding the young woman’s hand. As her fingers reached their destination she was met with the feeling of cold and polished glass. She gazed at her fingertips as she tried to penetrate the glass barrier leading to the young woman in the wooden frame with several taps. On her last attempt at trying to break the impenetrable wall, she looked into the young woman’s green eyes. Their gazes locked, both pair of eyes filled with determination as they began their search in the other’s orbs.

A few moments passed with only the sound water drumming against the windows was left to be heard. The moment was broken after a flash of recognition in the eyes of the young woman just before she closes here eyes and rests her forehead on the cool glass with a small smile playing slyly on her lips. She lets out a loud boisterous laugh and removes herself from the feel of the cool glass on her skin. She wipes the small smile from her face as opens her eyes once again. She notices tear stains above small dots along the young woman’s face. She scans the face intently in front of her, once again perplexed by the young woman in the wooden frame. She glares at the teeth marks on swollen lip of the young woman as if it had committed a moral sin, she stares at the young woman’s nostrils as they flared with every intake of air and she gazes at the small freckles sprinkled upon the young woman’s nose. Slowly her eyes rise to meet the green ones of the young woman, their eyes first flashed acceptance; a few moments later, as another booming clap envelopes the room, second flashes acceptance. She continued looking into the green eyes of the young woman in the wooden frame and smiled. No longer can she hear whimpers echoing the room.

Jun 25th

Memories

By Supratik

It will not wither
It's not a newspaper
Like a novel it's to stay
Not disappear in yesterday.

It will not burn
It’s not a candle
Like the sun it's to flame and remain
Light up your dark space again.

It will not come and go
It’s not a sporadic rainbow
Like a canvas with its glow and hues
It’s sure to rest inside you.

It will not sing only in Noël*
It’s not a carol by a seasonal Koel*  
Like the daily chirps whistling into years
It will ring and nest in your ears.

Memories murmuring moments
Mellow, merge, misunderstand, marry
Meanings, moods meander, mock, melt
Moving minds, mingle, mar, make merry.

Note:

1. Noël - Christmas
2. Koel - The Asian koel (Eudynamys scolopaceus)is a member of the cuckoo order of birds, the Cuculiformes. It is found in the Indian Subcontinent, China, and Southeast Asia. The Asian koel is a brood parasite that lays its eggs in the nests of crows and other hosts, who raise its young. They are unusual among the cuckoos in being largely frugivorous as adults. The name koel is echoic in origin with several language variants. The bird is a widely used symbol in Indian poetry.

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