Poetics

Of Gaddi(s) and Goats. A Poem by Sukrita Paul Kumar.

August 24, 2019December 24, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

Cackling goats and jostling sheep
Wiggle through woolly tracks
Reaching the edges of their skin
Rolling like pebbles down the Himalayan slopes
In herds

With several bleating little lambs
Peeping from the kukh of his apparel
The Gaddi’s heavy feet
Drag many steps behind,
Hollering and bellowing, harking and heeding,
One arm waiving the threatening oak stick
At the sheep on the brink of cliffs,
The other cuddling the twitchy babies

My friend, doesn’t the pashmina of your shawl
Whisper to you, tell you of the gentle strands of love
woven into the pashm fabric many times finer
than your fine hair
In its heat you may not cook eggs
Nor will its lightness give you wings
But what you wrap around yourself
Are the dense clouds trapped in the Arctic
Ready to rain on separation
Or melt into sprightly rivers in its warmth.

Sukrita

Born and brought up in Kenya, Sukrita Paul Kumar is a well-known poet and critic, who held the Aruna Asaf Ali Chair at the University of Delhi till recently. Formerly, a Fellow of the Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla, she is an Honorary Fellow of the International Writing Programme, University of Iowa (USA), as also of Hong Kong Baptist University and Cambridge Seminars. She is honorary faculty at the Durrell Centre at Corfu (Greece).

She has published several collections of poems including Dream Catcher, Untitled, Without Margins, Folds of Silence. Her critical books amongst others include Narrating Partition, The New Story, Man, Woman and Androgyny and Ismat, Her Life, Her Times. As Director of a UNESCO project, she edited Mapping Memories, a volume of Urdu short stories from India and Pakistan translated in English. In 2006, she published, as its Chief Editor, Cultural Diversity in India (MacMillan India) prescribed at Delhi University. She has also published Poems Come Home (HarperCollins) & Rowing Together (Rajkamal), bilingual books of poems with well-known poet and lyricist Gulzar and a fellow Hindi poet, Savita Singh. Her translations of fiction and poetry have been published by HarperCollins, Katha and National Book Trust, including Nude by Vishal Bhardwaj and Blind by Joginder Paul. Her poems have been translated into many languages such as French, Chinese, Swahili, Italian, Bengali, Punjabi etc. A recipient of many prestigious fellowships, she has lectured in many universities in India and abroad. Her paintings have been exhibited and published in several journals. Many of her poems emerged from her engagement with homeless people and tsunami victims.

She has been the Guest Editor of several journals in India and abroad, including “Manoa: Crossing Over” (University of Hawaii), “Muse India” (Indian Literatures) and “Margaret”

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

Roadside Dreams. A Poem by Ananya S Guha

August 24, 2019December 24, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

There is the arena of hope
a bit of mist, shrouded
into unbecoming land
and it pours, the rains
on these hill tops and caves
brush against my body,
the starched shirt, with the
ominous smell of ‘ something
goes on’
something is going on everyday
with the moon wearing whiskers
and the sun nestling on hill slopes
and in the midst, the arena of hope
dreams, dreaming, continues to over pour
till a vast tide of the river enters a hill town
and the floods besmirch the hills, the pines
I light candles surrounded by promontories
of vision.
Flicker of argument.
A ray of light
the last bus in town, now trundles
alongside my roadside dreams.

Ananya S Guha
Shillong
INDIA

Ananya S Guha has been born and brought up in Shillong, India and works in India’s National Open University, the Indira Gandhi National Open University. His poems in English have been published world wide. He also writes for newspapers and magazines/ web zines on matters ranging from society and politics to education. He holds a doctoral degree on the novels of William Golding. He edits the poetry column of The Thumb Print Magazine, and has published seven collections of poetry.

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

Blue Soul. A Poetry E Book by Gabriella Garofalo

August 24, 2019December 18, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

‘The guests from the heavenly vault: stars, moon, sun, comets, feed my words and provide them with a relentless lymph. So do the many spots, and people whom I happen to stumble upon. So do fragments from conversations I happen to have overheard. My irrepressible longing for reshaping all of them in a new different life, so as to give them a fresh soul, is the drive enabling my words to be invaded by that green fuse we might think of as the very life and soul of poetry.’ (Gabriella Garofalo)

http://www.argotistonline.co.uk/Blue Soul

(P.1)
A bit of advice, blue works best if you need
To creep in on the sly, it’s the latest fad,
Peeking at the stunning shows of some wannabe star,
Nobody cares about oceans or skies –
‘Course you’re right, no bloody reason
To wake up and listen to a breathing night,
Her lips mumbling in fractured whispers
‘Please God, don’t play dirty’,
But mind, you might chance on a runner in the blue,
A soul clad to the nines who scatters across the sky
Some bright twinkling lights,
A warning sign of a blessed hour that atones for naked souls,
Buildings rising up and wild, dark curtains blocking us
From talking to hidden stars who foster no desire
For stony blindness or witty repartees –
Head to him, fear not the ashes,
The glimpse of perfection, the shades of missing time,
For he’ll shape demise into a sunny spot
Where the candles we thought snuffed out
Run back to life in silence –
And no more shades of yellow, mind,
The fire that wound words thrown to the sea –
Can’t you hear those winged voices, the blaze of memory
Inside your time when the clock strikes one
And your night pleads innocent before her looming exile:
Trust me, no help from flesh or pleas,
Teardrops of white quartz and scraps from the sea
Lie on the stones waiting for you, some gifts for you?
Stop that rubbish, girl, they’ll give you only
Infinite rooms, revolving doors, what’s autumn but a witch
Who’s shedding blood and life away?
So, does it work? I mean, the light blue fragrance
Scenting the playful writing of my pen?
Oh so sorry, I dunno and can’t even hope so.

Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of “Lo sguardo di Orfeo”; “L’inverno di vetro”; “Di altre stelle polari”; “Blue branches”, “ A Blue Soul”.

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

Seizure. A Poem by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois

August 24, 2019November 13, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

Seedy lunch counter in New Jersey
Monster Mash just out
Juke box plays it nonstop
on the owner’s dime

We punks love it
but later wonder how the counter help
could stand it

On both sides of the door
are low metal coolers
stuff in there
looks Ice Age

If you touch both coolers at once
you get an electric shock
If you lick your fingers first
the shock almost knocks you out

They did the Mash…

Richey Lloyd
puts his hands full on the coolers

In two seconds he
has a gran mal seizure
it’s awesome

His granma comes runnin’
He’s visiting another world, says my older brother
as Richey foams at the mouth

His granma sticks the handle end of a large crescent wrench
in his mouth
where she got it from we have no idea
You’re supposed to use a popsicle stick
says my brother

What are you, a doctor? screams Granma
a hefty Sicilian

My brother later does become a doctor
but nobody knows it
while Richey is throwin’ his fit

Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois

Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois has had over fourteen-hundred of his poems and fictions appear in literary magazines in the U.S. and abroad, including quite a few in POETRY LIFE AND TIMES. He has been nominated for numerous prizes, and was awarded the 2017 Booranga Writers’ Centre (Australia) Prize for Fiction. His novel, Two-Headed Dog, based on his work as a clinical psychologist in a state hospital, is available for Kindle and Nook, or as a Print Edition . To see more of his work, google Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois. He lives in Denver.

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

Dispossessed (a Lieutenants defense) Poem by Richard Lloyd Cederberg

August 24, 2019November 11, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

Characterization. A creative adaptation from personal real life encounters.

My family seems
Perplexed with
The kind of person
I’ve become.
How I live,
These hands of mine,
My fingernails and rings,
This old pea-coat and worn shoes,
The weatherworn skin, and long hair…
But look at me,
What do you see?
Are these the EYES of insanity?
NO! They’re not! They’re the EYES
Of ‘I don’t give a shit’ anymore…
You copy that?

Oh…
Sorry ’bout it.
I’m plain-spoken.
What’s that?
You don’t care?
You want me to be open?
Ok…
Well…
I’m a Vet.
Vietnam.
First Lieutenant.
Air Mobility Assets.
Battle of HO BO Woods’ what changed me,
1966. 1st Bn, 27th Rgt, 25th Division. 25 killed,
32 wounded, ceptin’ me, I lived. Me!
What’s that? An occupation?
Yeah!
I was a Professor of Philosophy and
Economics for fifteen years before
The pricks punched my number.
Why?
Never really knew.
Too forthright I guess.
I realized early on I was training young
People to be slaves in a soulless machine
Whose only purpose was to churn out Automatons
For the global work-market and a lifetime
Of servitude and tax paying, so I began
Teaching what the students needed
To be creative happy citizens;
But them a’ holes didn’t like that…

What’s that?
My name?
Whiskey Sierra Papa!
Yeah! That’s my name.
What?
My personal philosophy?
Are you kidding me?
Really?
Wanna nip ‘a hooch first?
No?
Well… ok.
Here’s to ya’ stinkpot.

So here’s how I see it…
I began
In convergence
Just like every other human,
A divine revelation, (perhaps) or
A sperm lucky enough to find the egg,
The passions of MALE and FEMALE merging,
A momentary lapse of morals
(Possibly)
Finding a kind of fruition,
Without scrupulous filtering,
Or evolutionary impediments,
Or something more cryptic
To equivocate things even more,

I became something unique,
BIRTHED
Just like you,
Against all odds
And all wars that
Raged against possibility,
I became ME (in a world of ME’s)
Endeavoring to be apprehended, in
Spite of all booby traps and busybodies…

Ever coping to realize
A consummate expression,
(Whether accepted or not)
Another ego espousing humility,
An idealist treed in a shitty-system
Repudiating man’s despairing struggle to
Be more than just a hollow-sound in a global
Village of meez and yuze vying to one up
The swarms of prigs all maneuvering to
Lord it over everyone around them,

YEAH! That’s how Whiskey Sierra Papa sees it.
Huh? Sum it up?

Ok! On and on it goes, pal,
In this world of friends and foes,
And regardless where the river flows,
And despite who thinks I’m just another
Wayward f… who made a lotta bad choices,
I have found this one concept truly unfeigned,
That until MY leaf falls from the tree,
I will continue being ME… Dig it!

Hey… you wanna nip ‘a hooch ‘for ya’ go?

.
© richard lloyd cederberg 2018

______________________________________________________________________________

BIOGRAPHY

Richard is the progeny of Swedish and Norwegian immigrants. He was born in Chicago Illinois. Richard began his journey into the arts at age six. For twelve years he played classical trumpet. The British incursion of music, however, influenced him to put down the trumpet and take-up acoustic and electric guitar, and, to write songs and lyrics. He toured professionally for ten years. In 1995 Richard was privileged to design and build his own Midi-centered Recording Studio ~ Taylor & Grace ~ where he worked diligently until 2002. During that time he composed, and multi-track recorded, over 500 compositions and has two CD’s (‘WHAT LOVE HAS DONE’ and ‘THE PATH’) to his personal credit.
.
Richard’s interest in writing continues. His poetic invention is integrative and employs various elements: nature, history, relationships (past and present), parlance, alliteration, metaphor, characterization, spirituality, faith, eschatology, art, and subtext. Avoiding the middle-road; he enjoys the challenge of poetic stylization: Rhythmical, Poetic/Prose, Triolets, Syllable formats, Story-Poems, Freeform, Haiku, Tanka, Haibun, and Acrostic. Richard’s work has been (and is) featured in a wide variety of anthologies, compendiums, and e-zines including: Poetry Life and Times, Artvilla, Motherbird, and The Path. Richard was nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize.
.
Books include: 1. A MONUMENTAL JOURNEY… 2. IN SEARCH OF THE FIRST TRIBE… 3. THE UNDERGROUND RIVER… 4. BEYOND UNDERSTANDING. The Monumental Journey Series is a confluence of adventure, mystery, and historical fiction. A new adventure/thriller, BETWEEN THE CRACKS has been published. Also, a new eschatological drama – AFTER WE WERE HUMAN – is being written. Follow the lives of several friends as a race of ageless multi-dimensional humans comes back to Earth with their Creator to rule and reign for 1000 years.

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

3 Poems by Alisa Velaj, Limit, His Widow & He, Translated by Ukë Zenel Buçpapaj

August 24, 2019October 27, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

LIMIT

The woman watching the see is blind. For her, the sea waves are the soul waves.
From now on, the chopped light of the immense water container is what she will see
running deeper and deeper inside herself.

The blind woman and the ship that could never sail are of the same age.
The ship and her last lover have the same farsightedness.

Her last lover was a sailor and a fool. He heard only the melody
coming from the beating stick, turning a deaf to ear to all the island’s playing drums.

The blind woman and her last lover loved the flute sounds at dusk.

He never told her that the sea light had the shape of his destroying love for her.
However, she would willingly pretend that she had understood him.
She feared that he might also go blind if she told him the truth.

HIS WIDOW

His widow will continue to live her earthly years under the shadow of the emperor’s courtyard.

He, the most wonderful tree, left her soul empty with the crowds still conquered by him.

The crowds always look at his widow as a mantel of leaves.

When the blossoms wither, the mantel ceases to exist. At this moment even the crowds stop thinking.

In spring the mantel rejuvenates again. His widow gladdens because of the freshened memory of the citizens who never knew the dictator.

His widow loved the crowd and the leaf.

They both have short memory.

HE

He will not be able walk out of the house where he and the Eagle stay imprisoned.

He is there, and the guitar sounds coming from beyond the window, though tempting,
fail to encourage him.

He and the Eagle love and hate each other infinitely.

She will not pluck his eyes out, for he has given up watching since his childhood.
To both of them, light particles are as strange as colors.

She will not blind him, and he will cry one day, he will cry a lot because of her farewell.

At that moment he will be a child conscious of his loss, while the fir-trees will throw
thick shadows over the sadness of the undiscovered oases.

Alisa Velaj has been shortlisted for the annual international Erbacce-Press Poetry Award in UK in June 2014. Her works have appeared in more than eighty print and online international magazines, including: FourW twentyfive Anthology (Australia), The Journal (UK), The Dallas Review (USA), The Linnet’s Wings (UK) The Seventh Quarry (UK), Envoi Magazine (UK) etc etc. Velaj’s digital chapbook “The Wind Foundations” translated by Ukë Zenel Buçpapaj is published by Zany Zygote Review (USA). Her poems are also translated in Hebrew, Swedish, Romanian, French and Portuguese. Alisa Velaj’s poetry book “With No Sweat At All” (trans by Ukë Zenel Buçpapaj) will be published by Cervena Barva Press in 2019.

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

14 Haiku by Anum Sattar

August 24, 2019October 22, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

cooking
spoilt apples
to fill a pie

چوڑیاں
mother blames the glass
for cutting her fat wrists

Glass bangles (Urdu: چوڑیاں ) are ornaments worn by South Asian women in Pakistan, Nepal, Bangladesh and India.

freshly picked apple
sliced in half–
a railroad worm

courtesan unfolds a fan—
bird of paradise
on display

rotten tomatoes
afternoon sun
covered by clouds

giant silk moth –
hidden
in the night

between the long legs
of a sandhill crane –
a newly hatched colt

fallen off a kathal tree –
the spiky jackfruit
softens

after watering
the lifeless stone
sprouts a yellow flower

scared sea turtle –
unable to curl
into a shell

vaginal discharge –
olive oil from fish
soaks my paper towel

pinnate prairie :
yellow petals –
then an erect cone

candy floss at the zoo —
a greater flamingo
stands on one leg

unhooking the barb
from the swollen lip
of a struggling carp

Anum Sattar is a senior studying English at the College of Wooster in Ohio, USA. Her poems have been published the American Journal of Poetry (Margie,) Triggerfish Critical Review, Blithe Spirit, The Mythic Circle, HOBART, SurVision Magazine, Literary Juice, Coal City Review, Crack the Spine, Lowestoft Chronicle, Taj Mahal Review, FIVE 2 ONE: An Art and Literary Journal, The Linnet’s Wings, Ragazine, Better than Starbucks! The Florida Review, Grey Sparrow Press, Oddball Magazine, Artifact Nouveau, Off the Coast, Strange POEtry, Between These Shores Literary & Arts Annual, Conceit Magazine, A New Ulster, The Cannon’s Mouth, The Journal of Contemporary Anglo-Scandinavian Poetry, Wilderness House Literary Review, Poydras Review, The Cadaverine, Verbalart: A Global Journal Devoted to Poets & Poetry, The Wayne Literary Journal, The Ibis Head Review, Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poems, Poets Bridge, Deltona Howl and Tipton Poetry Journal. She won the first Grace Prize in Poetry and third Vonna Hicks Award at the college. Whenever possible, she reads out her work at Brooklyn Poets, Spoonbill and Sugartown Bookstore, Forest Hills Library in New York City and the Cuyahoga Valley Art Center at Cuyahoga Falls, OH. And she was recently interviewed at Radio Free Brooklyn.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anum.sattar.16

Poets & Writers: https://www.pw.org/content/anum_sattar

‘Rock Star Poet’ at Radio Free Brooklyn: https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/truthtopowershow/episodes/2018-02-06T11_38_07-08_00

AWP Directory of Members List: https://www.awpwriter.org/community_calendar/user_view/84258

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

5 Guru Poems by Christopher Barnes

August 24, 2019October 14, 2018 by Robin Ouzman Hislop

(i)

An Unpaused Hour

Nine tings chase sanity.
Our guru twiddles
A crow’s sequined wings.
Passions jump off wheezes,
Dashed at the holdall’s flames.
Breath-sucks gyrate the room.

(ii)

Bar 64

A Jagger-lipped ox
Smirks in its float-bowl.
The lampstand’s crimsoning.
“Quirks,” underbreaths our tiddly guru,
“Aren’t without their suns”.

(iii)

Breakfast Ritual

Our guru tub-thumps Ouija learning
Into an atom that coggles.
The rubber shark’s dulceting
“Mack The Knife”.

The Ground Of Being’s egohood
Watusi’s tailwards.
High-muckety, we TLC our sanctified protocols.

(iv)

Financial Break, No Cheques

This megacosm flumps –
An undisplayable apparition.
We’re diluted by marvelment.

The journey’s butt is an oblivion-fresh
String-puppet butterfly
That coaxes dust
In the attic of our mind fuzz.

Our guru belches –
A pixie’s stage whisper.

(v)

The Mediator’s Art

You’ve unfolded these Vanity Fair bodies
Spanning into destiny’s lap.
Poppycock has no improving.
Thighs of our guru’s apostles
Shall be gunked
By Dolly, the sponge-puff mermaid.

Xanadu’s here, well-earthed.

In 1998 I won a Northern Arts writers award. In July 200 I read at Waterstones bookshop to promote the anthology ‘Titles Are Bitches’. Christmas 2001 I debuted at Newcastle’s famous Morden Tower doing a reading of my poems. Each year I read for Proudwords lesbian and gay writing festival and I partook in workshops. 2005 saw the publication of my collection LOVEBITES published by Chanticleer Press, 6/1 Jamaica Mews, Edinburgh.

On Saturday 16Th August 2003 I read at the Edinburgh Festival as a Per Verse poet at LGBT Centre, Broughton St.

Christmas 2001 The Northern Cultural Skills Partnership sponsored me to be mentored by Andy Croft in conjunction with New Writing North. I made a radio programme for Web FM community radio about my writing group. October-November 2005, I entered a poem/visual image into the art exhibition The Art Cafe Project, his piece Post-Mark was shown in Betty’s Newcastle. This event was sponsored by Pride On The Tyne. I made a digital film with artists Kate Sweeney and Julie Ballands at a film making workshop called Out Of The Picture which was shown at the festival party for Proudwords, it contains my poem The Old Heave-Ho. I worked on a collaborative art and literature project called How Gay Are Your Genes, facilitated by Lisa Mathews (poet) which exhibited at The Hatton Gallery, Newcastle University, including a film piece by the artist Predrag Pajdic in which I read my poem On Brenkley St. The event was funded by The Policy, Ethics and Life Sciences Research Institute, Bio-science Centre at Newcastle’s Centre for Life. I was involved in the Five Arts Cities poetry postcard event which exhibited at The Seven Stories children’s literature building.

The South Bank Centre in London recorded my poem “The Holiday I Never Had”, I can be heard reading it on www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=18456

REVIEWS: I have written poetry reviews for Poetry Scotland and Jacket Magazine and in August 2007 I made a film called ‘A Blank Screen, 60 seconds, 1 shot’ for Queerbeats Festival at The Star & Shadow Cinema Newcastle, reviewing a poem… On September 4 2010, I read at the Callander Poetry Weekend hosted by Poetry Scotland. I have also written Art Criticism for Peel and Combustus Magazines. I was involved in The Creative Engagement In Research Programme Research Constellation exhibitions of writing and photography which showed in London (march 13 2012) and Edinburgh (July 4 2013)

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