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
Ananya S Guha
Not Happening. A Poem by Ananya S Guha
Lovely the way it happens
lovelier the way things don’t happen
in an acrobatic murmur
I saw dissent in a storm
a cup in wither in the morn
the battering of life is simply
an aroma, things happening
not
so, bolster fashion
there is in it the mythic,
the epistolary, then the
giants will look at the other way
a whodunit? a whodunit of the
whodunit?
Don’t know that surprises melt into
laughter, then anger
I am a bit composite now
after writing a poem.
They do not know it is laden
with color and tears
drinking a few beers
and the way this happens
actually, come to think of it
in slow sterile responses
( punctuated with heavy breathing)
should not.
Ananya S Guha
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)
Can You Consider. Poem by Ananya S Guha
1
Let not waves hamper
ripples do not matter
look, outside
cloud lines burst
2
Little children play
hop skip
my heart beats
hops, skips then
weeps
3
Bullets are easy
to get
shooting is not
guns smoulder
clouds, which is
what
I do not know
4
I know only
that in your
love
there is fire
weeping
rain pouring
smoke smouldering
5
Do not tell me
that ashes are
ridden of hope
in father’s funeral
pyre,
I saw his face twitch
6
Journeying back
into time
is fast forward
in life.
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 (Leeds University) .
Hostages. A Poem by Ananya S Guha
Had it not been
a hell of a night
I would not know
how chandeliers
had broken
and the gig we did
broke into dawn
till all the people
in the room started
reading those old
books, which memories
had kept stored in rusted
trunks. One started reciting
the others with immaculate
looks read steadfastly.
Silence. Silence was the watch dog.
The reading continued late till
the day. Gunshots woke them up.
They were told they were hostages
but they continued to read.
A war is on ( they were told)
The chandeliers splintered
books strewn,
death hyphenated, they
continued to read.
Soon dogs started barking
the coffins were ready.
The clock ticked
death is a neighbour.
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.
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Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
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https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
The Mole. A Poem by Ananya S Guha
I hate to say it
but the mole on my nose
is only an architecture of disdain
pure contempt for Grecian looks
and ultra
violets have broken into unmusical
songs, I have a hand for blasphemy
for those in exile ( in oblivion)
but the mole gives intrepid warmth
to a less than humane heart
a heart that mocks at love
and sees in body lust
philanderer of hope, testimony
coming back to the mole, the nose itches
in radical protest against human faces
of dignity.revolt then, you reprobates
crush the sinner’s dying plea of resurrection.
the mole looks blacker, wilder and the body
warms.
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.
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk
Roof Tops. A Poem by Ananya S Guha
Roof tops are mad
rattling, whispering
groaning. They love noise
that is piquant.
They love silences of time.
Their lunacy is immeasurable
and then they chortle.
No, they are not humorous
their bland movements
are to be taken seriously.
And when rains pound heavily (on them)
they raise voices in chorus.
Sometimes birds, rabbits, dogs and monkeys climb
on to them in parasitical delight
when night’s heaviness weighs on silences.
Roof tops then articulate movements
of steady sound. Rat- a- tat. Sounds
that impinge dreams, hallucinations.
Ghosts walk on them.
As a child roof tops hurtled into sleep.
Still harangue.
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.
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
Abstraction. Subject-Poem, by Ananya S Guh
abstraction is entity
where we separate
nuance
build on words
write philosophy
abstraction takes livid
breath, out of reality
subtracts, adds then puts
to pen and paper
living wall
in minutiae
and quote Immanuel Kant.
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.
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
In Mornings. A Poem by Ananya S Guha
In mornings there is explosion
a certain humming, a certain resistance
to the sun or thunder
cars, frantic have rollicking time
school kids think that morning is cessation
but, soon there will be shadows
and lingering dust
dogs’ tails will wag
mornings are premeditated action
a liitle discernment
and mornings will take to paths
unscented.
In morning
she takes position near
the bus stand, vegetables she sells
may or may not ( sell)
but mornings are arcades of hope
and in this city, mornings have the luminous
mornings have smell of flowers
mornings are creepy mirages of another day.
In Mornings.
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.
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