HALL OF POETS, ISSUE 08, DEC. 2015

H A L L O F P O E T S , I S S U E 0 8 , D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 5

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ISSUE 08, DEC. 2015

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CONTENTS

AUTHOR/POET TITLE PAGE

OWNER’S WRITE

Dr. Prerna Singla Days Of Yore

09

Pulkit Mohan Singla Millions Of

Children

12

GOLDEN CHAIN

Amit Shankar Saha Silence

Corner

18

19

Anca Mihaela Bruma Your Love...

When I Found The

Love Footprints…

20

22

Ayurveera Raja Soothing The Words

25






Garry Spooner Ode To Sid

27

Ishita Singh The Wait

False Affection

30

32

Jed Wolfe Darkness Clouds

Every Corner

34

Karen Hines

All Seeing Eye

36

Kiron Krishnan Unto The Fire

39

Mallika Bhaumik Foggy Night

Discarded

41

43

Megha Sumant Sharma A Journey Called

LIFE

44

Nutan Sarawagi

In My Mother’s

Eyes

Spent

Ode to my Father

45

48

50

Partha Mukherjee

A Border #

51






Praveen Ranjit Queue

Be Humane

53

55

Rahul Mall Time

At A Museum

Blending

56

59

61

Rainy Sarmistha Mystic Creation

Notebook Of Desire

63

65

Raja Anjana Kothapalli Flute

The Beast

Soldier's Wife

66

68

69

Ravi.S.Ranganathan

Nocturnal Niche

70

Sanjana Bandooni. " Memoirs Of

Shores "

Reclusive Love "

72

74

Shyamal Kumar

Majumder

Emotional Bite

75






For An Astrologer

76

Dr. Sonia Gupta Happiness In Life 77

Sufia Khatoon Edge Of Love....

80

Sumana Bhattacharyya O My Mind! O My

Thought!

83

Tapeshwar Prasad I Float Universes

Longer Jaws

Lost Paradise

85

87

88

Yumnah Razzaq Alone Beings

Sonnet: To

Memories

Friendless Friends

90

92

93

GUIDELINES FOR

SUBMISSION

96






Dr. PRERNA SINGLA

A Gurgaon based Dentist, Entrepreneur, Poet/ writer with almost 12 years of

entrepreneur experience, currently working as Creative Director at Lavita

Palace (Gurgaon based banquet Hall), Owner/Editor-in-Chief Hall Of Poets

International e-Magazine and global poetic community, Editor-in-Chief

Impact 005.

Recent Project: Roses & Rhymes (an anthology of poetry on love and life

releasing globally)






DAYS OF YORE

Dr. PRERNA SINGLA

Such wast those cheaper times

When dreams swam in paper boats

And the ten cent coins

Were the golden notes

Determinations were filled with raised spirit

We laugh'd at difficult times

Our lending a cent & a brick

So homeless couldst make shelter with those dimes

Even in the dark hot summer nights

We slept a pleasant sleep

Enough wast her downcast eyes

To get me crazy in love so deep

Priceless was inner beauty of people

Superficial beauty wasn’t that famous

Even the things those wast little

Had meanings magnanimous

Of etiquette was politeness a sign

More humble, moo simple was people’s coat






Such wast those cheaper times

When dreams swam in paper boats

© Dr. PRERNA SINGLA

25 JUNE, 2015






PULKIT MOHAN SINGLA

B.Sc M.Sc. Interior Designing and Event Management.

Pulkit Mohan Singla is 25 yrs old, Gurgaon based

entrepreneur/builder/blogger/writer working as Owner at LAVITA PALACE

(a Gurgaon based banquet Hall) and PULKIT BUILDERS (Gurgaon based

construction firm). He is also Owner/Co-Editor/Designer of HALL OF

POETS International e-magazine and Global poetic community.A famous

controversial blogger, he is also fond of creating art/painting and digital designs

and sells them for business.






MILLIONS OF CHILDREN

Pulkit Mohan Singla

Millions of children

Begging for food


Eating from the waste

While millions of kids wasting it

Throwing in the bins

The tasteless leftovers


Dying of thirst


Drinking from the gutters


Overfilled bath tubs utilizing

Unrequited surplus waters.


With no clothes to wear







Draped in rags

While millions of kids wasting the silk

Over stuffed wardrobes

Hoarding outdated clothes.

Why Oh Lord!

There is no justice

To your blessings

Innocent lives starving to death


Born of silver spoon

Exploiting the surplus

Pulkit Mohan Singla

© 2015






RELEASING THIS JANUARY

ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY ON LOVE & LIFE

This Valentines

gift your beloved a rosary of romantic rhymes...

FOR DETAILS: http://impact005.weebly.com






AMIT SHANKAR SAHA

Amit Shankar Saha is a poet, critic, researcher and writer. He has a PhD in

English from Calcutta University. His works have appeared in many journals

and magazines in India as well as abroad. He is the co-founder and coordinator

of Rhythm Divine Poets group.






SILENCE

Amit Shankar Saha

Born in the late seventies

The disposition of silence

Born too late to have nails pulled

But not too late

Born with an unconscious

Collected in situ

Sedimented

Compressed

A silence turned to stone

Generation of blood-letting

Hung from the toe

Generation of letting-go

Shot in the back

A generation terrorized

The politics of voice

Some voices could not be muffled

Because they were not born in throats

Until the next






CORNER

Amit Shankar Saha

When I build a strong will

I also build a hard heart,

But I do not build a corner

For regret.

So when regret visits me

I do not have a room to give her,

On the bed we sit

And start to cohabit.

Before long regret becomes me

And I become she,

I paint a corner red,

She paints a corner blue.

I will the heart, the heart wills me,

A pale line parts my house,

The corners slide, I cry,

Still she does not reply.

******






ANCA MIHAELA BRUMA

Educator, lecturer, performance poet, eclectic thinker, mentor with staunch

multi-cultural mindset and entrepreneurial attitude, Anca Mihaela Bruma

considers herself a global citizen, having lived in four continents. Her

eclecticism can be seen in her intertwined studies, she pursued: a Bachelor of

Arts (Romania) and a Master of Business Administration (Australia).

The author labels her own writings as being “mystically sensual”, a tool and

path for women to claim their own inner feminine powers. She uses poetics as a

form of literary education, self-discovery and social engagement.






YOUR LOVE...

Anca Mihaela Bruma

Your Love,

suffocated my semantics....

And my inner alphabet

was maximized

by the unspoken words

and Life's crescendo!

I sentenced your sentence

in a Place,

where your Verb collides

with my lyrical enunciation...

A surreal abbreviation!

And Time serenades in Silence

a sonata of Present Tense,

counted by a metronome,

on the edge,

of a timeless Hour!...

©Anca Mihaela, 9th May 2014






WHEN I FOUND THE LOVE FOOTPRINTS…

Anca Mihaela Bruma

When I found the Love footprints

I recessed… from Life…

Ceased my earthy sojourn…

I stumbled no more

Between so many lexicons of forgetting…

Lost the cryptic utterances

Of what could, might or should be,

The Truth… or False!...

I am not seeking the finding

As I do not find the seeking…

Still…

You see yourself outside you,

I see you inside myself…

When Love footprints were found

I stumbled no more between dots,

I just sniffed

One thousand years in one day,

And quarters of heavens were built

Inside my cathartic calibrations…






The eyes of a thinker

And the feeling of a knower,

A hearer of unknown traces,

The multiples within simplicity

And eternity’s dips

Of these countless realities.

When I found the Love footprints

The absence became present,

And…I know:

I am pre-sent to BE

In this everlastingness fate

Which sounds like a formula.

No heart geometrics,

No inner alphabets…

Simply,

A sense of nothingness

Inyour everyness…

Future selves

Or…

Secret second selves,

Connecting derivative patterns






And mathematical probabilities

In a Pythagorean sphere of harmony.

******






SOOTHING THE WORDS

Ayurveera Raja

What to tell if they laugh

when one's heart is tender

Dividing is the method

To end in a zero

Sometimes a number

Remains after division

That does not want

itself to fall to divisor.

Should remain as remainder

how much the quotient be.

As quotient tries to increase

Remainder should too increase.

If a division has no remainder

It stops at a zero.

Then the dividend is killed

It is resolved to a number

The factors stop somewhere

Multiples do not.

Subtraction may stop somewhere

Or even reduce to negative.

But addition does only increase

If addend is positive.

Integration is difficult

It is many times impractical

But, let us use the rules

To do the integration

The natural laws

That God himself has ordained

Unintegrable functions

they do not come for exams...

Unity in diversity is better

Diversity in unity is never so.

A bundle of sticks is stronger

Isn't that what is known?






Rites and rights to speak and hear

writes and writes to wear and tear.

Make the hand grow

Not the useless nail.

Make your mind broad

Not the useless mane.

Rivers shall flow

Only when there are waters

water drops cannot

Flow by themselves.

Let us maintain the flow

Of the polluted water

So that it is pure

By flow God ordained

If you separate water

And store them in buckets

Due to stagnancy

They will lose purity.

And the polluting dirt

Still remains there.

Choose between thus :

Division or integration?

© Ayurveera Raja. (In support)






GARRY SPOONER

54 years old, New Zealand based poet.

I have been writing poetry on a regular basis for only a few months but this

poem is one of my older writes






ODE TO SID

Garry Spooner

I held a very dear friend of mine , for the very last time.

I was with her as she passed, from here to there,

Te Aroha no te Kuri goes beyond, such is the closeness of the bond

I remember well , when we first fell , for each other ,

You a shaking, frightened little thing and I would someday be your everything.

Your favourite sport, to chase a ball and to bring it back just out of reach

barking wildly ,

As if to teach, c’mon and get it if you can but first well play a wee game of dog

versus man,

But only in jest for you knew your place, we knew your smile and we knew

your face,

And your favourite place to gambol and play out at the inlet , on your marks, get

set .

Out of the car come on let’s go!

But the sobering fact is your time has now come, with pills now no longer

easing your ills,

It’s gutting to watch, knowing you soon won’t be here but the pain that you feel

will soon disappear.

But sadly that means that you’re going away

And the worst thing about it , today is that day ,

So it won’t be long now till you depart, and we with heavy heart will mourn

your death

And return you to the earth.






Goodbye, Dear Sid you’ve been a faithful friend, and we have loved each other

to the end.

I held a very dear friend of mine, for the very last time .

I was with her as she passed from here to there.

© Garry Spooner September 2013






ISHITA SINGH

My name's Ishita and I am a school going teen. I have always enjoyed reading

comics and novels and loved writing poems, but coming in contact with Hall Of

Poets has opened new opportunities of putting my poems on a big level and

receiving views and corrections from some really brilliant poets here. Except

writing poems, I am good at studies (I have received trophies and gold medals

for that), I like playing guitar and making people happy!! And I am a big foddie,

which you can tell once you meet me!






THE WAIT

Ishita Singh

Eyes

Dried up with tears

Faith

Crumbled under fears

Standing on the terrace

Perplexed , wondering

Whether it's you who I see

Or just an illusion of destiny.

Fingers crossed testing my fate

Going through a never ending wait

I hear those footsteps

A familiar smell

Even from a thousand miles,

I could tell.

Two hearts beating fast

As faces exchange glances

I wait for you

You wait for me

I don't know how long it will last.

Then you turn away

Like an ordinary stranger, unmoved

I waited for an explanation

But you didn't even look.

Is that how it's supposed to end?

I really doubt.

Maybe there was something I couldn't see

Behind your indifferent pout.

© 2015






FALSE AFFECTION

Ishita Singh

Silver pearls, silk cloth

Flowing gowns, polka dots

A clown in disguise

Well suited guys

Witty smile

In cunning style.

"Who are you?

So beautiful too"

"Well, thank you,

But that's a witty remark

'Cause you know it's dark!"

Selfish people

Selfless time

Sweet cake

Or a bitter lime?

Veil on people's face

Going through a tarnished phase

Do you, do you understand them?

Do you find yourself a gem?

Because if it's true

You know you are right

Be calm, take a bite.

Beautiful liars.......dumb tries

Erratic life....... full of strife.

Never be in influence

Of a stupid sigh

Don't feel wrong

Because you know it was a lie.

Change your perceptions






Don't have preconceptions

Fake people, Fake smiles

Have fake life of fake dials.

Just

Fly away, soar

Turn and slam the door

Do what you feel is right

After all, it's your life.

Ishita Singh

©copyright 2015






JED WOLFE

I am a 49year old single male.

I worked as a security specialist for 20+years

Personal protection being my field

These days its back to what I enjoy

The building and construction industry

Driving big boy toys e.g. earth movers

Bull dozers etc

Basically I’m a kid who hasn't grown up.

I rescue dogs and still ride a skate board

I have a passion for hunting and these days writing...






DARKNESS CLOUDS

Jed Wolfe

Darkness clouds every corner of our passion

Linking every touch to tormented rapture

Ravens caw each word spoken

In vain

To love yet to linger in frustrated silence

Turning to bitter romance

The ghost of our memories

Weak lonesome havoc

Sentiments fill my mind with longing

Yet a desire to close

The tattered pages of our chapter

Firey indeed as we cross lanes untraveled

Rolling in deep wonton hunger

Kisses sting like barbs

Lush red lips,moist,baying at the moon

Fingers pulling ginger locks

Our combined craving hops

The dripping trail of midnight melancholy

The earth might stop rotating

Canndles may stop melting

My heart may stop beating

But i will never stop loving you. ....

Jed Wolfe

© 2016






KAREN HINES

Born and raised in Central Florida. Married over 20 years; have 1 son, 2

grandsons. Honest, kind, loyal, but outspoken. I believe in Dragons and

collect them with a passion. I love sports, nature and critters, so I

basically live in a zoo.






ALL SEEING EYE

Karen Hines

The clouds parted,

Solemnly.

In the wake

Opened the all seeing

Eye.

The tears poured forth,

Pooling into a great

Sea of sadness.

Filled with sorrow;

Filled with pain;

Filled with agony.

The agony of

Man.

No longer did the

Eye

Behold beauty

Or pride.

Man had forsaken

All he was given.

Raped the land;

Polluted the air;

Displaced the animals;

Turned on his brothers

And sisters

Alike.

Now the world must be

Cleansed;

Start anew.

Hope for the

Future.

All will be

Determined

When the sins are

Dissolved.

The tears of the






All seeing

Eye

Will flood the

Earth

And a new day will

Dawn.

Karen Hines

Copyright Dec. 2015






KIRON KRISHNAN

Kiron Krishnan is a student of electrical and electronics engineering from India,

who writes poetry as a passion.






UNTO THE FIRE

Kiron Krishnan

No, this wind shan't be the wind;

For it has blocked my path.

No, this lamp shan't be the lamp:

For that did make me blind.

Why shall it occur to me?

It didnt occur before;

The wind blew, and the lamp went off;

The Fire reached heavens.

The people in the village asked me :

what's the way; Dumb was I.

Alas! O good! My eyes opened!

I saw the whole there.

And all the people did see then-

We saw our way at last.

We moved until the end reached;

There I could find none.

Not my people, not even others

could I see o'er there.

Why? The answer came from sky:

At once was I shocked again.

"The wind of death blew;

The lamp of life extinguished"

So came the supreme answer;

From the lamp unto the Fire I entered...

© Kiron Krishnan 2015.






MALLIKA BHAUMIK

The writer had been a student of literature and completed her masters degree in

English literature from the University of Calcutta. She is fond of reading books,

both fiction and non-fiction. She writes poems too, and contributes to some

popular online poetry groups. Her other interest includes music, cooking and

travelling. She is particularly interested to visit places of historical interest. She

lives in Kolkata with her husband and two sons .






FOGGY NIGHT

Mallika Bhaumik

City wrapped in a foggy shawl

A faint lullaby...

In my balcony I stand

To watch a tired day sigh,

As the last tram hums by.

Vigilant neon lights

Keep awake through sleepy night

Stray dogs curling up in corners

Empty deserted roads,

Illuminated billboard--

Plush homes, where colours last

Painted life of gaeity,

Highlights in contrast

My grey ,vengeful past

Hollow in its nudity....

Mocking me with its emptiness

Encroaching into my present

Have I remained trapped in time?

Nothing owned

And none to belong?

Only a suspended gloom,

Only a nagging wound,

Only a promised doom.

©® Mallikabhaumik 2015






DISCARDED

Mallika Bhaumik

Why do I have a fetish for lonely things?

Discarded

Abandoned

Forgotten?

Somehow they come very close to me

Your half used perfume bottle,

My lingering presence...

In your fragrant earlobes, naval,

Now a decorated tombstone

The favourite birthday coffee mug

Pink pout around its rim

Clasped in Cosy wintry evenings

Stands stoically near the sink.

My fat moss green dairy, old confidante

Witness to turbulent emotions;

Now life prosaic, linear, static....

In attic, gathering dust.

Love built in cuckoo's nest

Flies in light year's speed

Forlorn ,soiled 'welcome' doormat

Cries hollow and deep,

'Finite life ,infinite love'

Looks perfect as an online quote

Lonely bars hear screams unheard

A dead man walks back ..

to live with the discarded souls.

©® Mallika bhaumik 2015






A JOURNEY CALLED LIFE

Megha Sumant Sharma

In this unusual world

You are a unique pearl

Your name is different

Do not be diffident

The path is exemplary

Your humour is extraordinary

Let the breeze flow

And take some important vows

Just as the trees give shelter

You can spread tons of laughter

Just as the winds give you wings

You can fly from within

Let go varied kinds of sarcasm

Just surge ahead with optimism

Life is not about the destination

It's a journey of self realisation

© Megha Sumant Sharma

28th dec 2015






NUTAN SARAWAGI

I am a designer. I love to colour words in the colours of verse. I have MA in

education. I feel strongly on women's issues, I wish I could set the world right

for them. I write mainly on women and children, extremely concerned

about children of war.






Trilogy of ode to my mother

In my mother’s eyes

Nutan Sarawagi

As I wait for my past to catch up with my past

Reminiscing in the present of a past gone by past

In which I live to still dwell

Of my life gone off so fast

Which I once loved

In it to be lulled

In my mother's memories

In her lullabies loved

Singing to the night

In a voice so soft

Ushering in the night

In her tresses so dark

As the moon appears in her eyes

Bringing in dreams of twilight

In her hopes to dispel

All my fears of the night

I now lie waiting for the dark

In hopes bemoaned

As I lie fearing the dark

In the stealthiest of the night

When they will take away her life

To sing the lullabies of life

Stealing the darkness of the night

I will lie awake

Wondering of that night

When she put me to sleep

In my cold life






Singing in her warmth

To take away the fears in my eyes

I cry helplessly to her now

To take away her fears of her dying life

To once again quell the fears in her eyes

In the falling tears of my life

Which just no more wipe

In her crying eyes

To quell the fears in my eyes

I can't look her in her eyes to meet her dying eyes

If only they would take away my fears

replace my life with her life






SPENT

Nutan Sarawagi

In her flowering love, I grew in her love like a flower, blooming in her love

In the seed of love she planted in me

to sow the seeds of her love in me

in her love to hold her, in my love of me

Watering me, as I grew stronger in her love each day

which knew no bounds, in a love to be loved!

No holds barred, in its love to be loved!

Then one day she turned away in her love

a storm of love suddenly blew over my love

On that hot summer’s day stifling my love

in her anger, she stormed out in her love

Leaving me alone, broken in my love

I was left alone holding her, in the heart of my love

in flowers dried, wilting in me, in my heart broken in me!

Her lips no longer mine, in her love lost, no longer seeking me!

Waiting for her to touch me in her warmth

to once again feel the touch of her warmth!

In the pieces of my heart, broken in me

I looked at her again to find my love in me

In a heart sung in our love, her words whispering in me!

In the agony of her love, I could not wait anymore

In the dark night, as I rode to her love, at her door

If only to believe me, in her love for me

I pulled out my dagger, to prove her love for me

Shielding me in her love, sheathed in her love

Hiding her love, as I looked into her eyes to love me

Not finding it, I plunged the dagger in me!

In it to kill her love in me, that no more looked for me

In my love I lay in her feet spent, swept in her love, my blood curdling






calling out to me!

To pick me up in the drops of blood left in me

In me to drink the last drop of her love, left in me

to drink her love in me

her love no longer seeking me!






AN ODE TO MY FATHER...

In the words of my mother

Nutan Sarawagi

As I nuzzle in you lost to you

the mysteries of old age unravel in you

you who shunned me all my life

now waiting to caress me

as if I was your last life

love was going on strike!

I wonder what all those years

had meant to you

now that you turn

again in them to me

were they love or this is love

perplexed, I turn again to look at you

I see in your face the passage of time

of days gone by when you held me

as if you were mine

now trampled crumpled ravaged by age old time

even the clock cannot turn them back in time

if only I could be young once again

to touch you

feel you

the same once again

as you were once mine

untouched by time!






PARTHA MUKHERJEE

Born 31st August 1957, brought up in Kolkata, West Bengal. He Passed

university level with English as fonding subject. Started Working in Indo -

American company as senior executive in international department. Presently

involved in teaching to students of 11,12 board students and Hons. Writing

Poetry is his passion.






A BORDER #

Partha Mukherjee

Theism and Atheism

Romantism and Satirical

Elgebathan and Victorian

A line of difference between

Agonists are credulous

Like to balance

The border highlights

Two extremes .

Romantism Divine imagined carnal

Leaves a border in Satirical

In Sheridan's bumpkin

Elgebathan scandal of Rich

Blendia's locks raped

A border to Emergence,

Victorian ruled.

Between stands

Donne dawned.

Line phase is

Poetry of transformation

Epitomised.

© sarathi 25 12 2015






PRAVEEN RANJIT

Professor Praveen Ranjit is a creative writer who gets inspiration from nature to

social issues and enjoys writing poems on love, life, compassion, happiness,

human relations nature’s beauty etc.

At a very young age he developed his writing skills, published poems in various

anthologies and periodicals and received many awards of excellence.

He was a professor in the Department of Commerce, St. Albert’s college,

Kochi, Kerala from 1981 to 2014






QUEUE

Praveen Ranjit

We are in a queue

At the door of death

Move forward every moment

A few men enter each moment

All are getting closer

Soon your turn will come

It will snatch away your body

Wealth, position and prestige

Surrender everything to the divine

Before death grabs you

Death can take your corpse only

Never touch the eternal in you.






BE HUMANE

Praveen Ranjit

Consider never me as human being

If I ignore my fellow beings

So many are there suffering too much

When many of us are live in luxury.

Raze my pen and tear my papers

If not break my silence when have violence

How can I sleep in my palace

When my fellow beings sleep on foot path.

How can I eat food so sumptuous

If I never share my food to the needy

Let us unite and raise our voices

Everyone has the right to live here.

© Praveen Ranjit

21/12/2015






RAHUL MALL

Rahul Mall is a passionate poet, writer and an artist who hails from the

Kathmandu Valley, capital of Nepal. Currently residing in Kolkata, India hr has

recently achieved his Bachelors Degree in Commerce. Having featured in

certain magazines he is a budding poet and an artist. He believes that a

paintbrush and a pen are the greatest weapons known to mankind.






TIME

Rahul Mall

I propose us to suture

To take our every step in harmony.

I propose to be your master,

But you muster away faster.

I propose us to make the rounds,

Twice- twelve; about the bounds.

In a day. Everyday. Together.

Astride.

But you mistake it to be a Guinea

And us its participants,

The result an innocuous debacle,

And the constant effort to get better,

Catalyst to my demise.

I propose to hold you in my hand,

wrap around my wrists.

And as I lurge to make a tight grip,

You turn slimmy and make the slip.

Now I grow slow and slower

And on my every round,

I meet you at your next round.

I was to be your master,

But you seem to have turned the table around.

Turning me into an abject follower.

And as I walked closer,

You tick-tocked your way out.






Tick -tock, tick-tock...

Tick-tock...

© Rahul Mall, 2015






AT A MUSEUM

Rahul Mall

The old are gone,

Buried under their tomb.

Kings besides their queens

And ladies from harems.

But their blood-stained clothes dried,

To withhold the sands of time.

What art they patronized!

In ivory their scriptures inscribed.

I walk out of the museum,

Look over the horizon.

Shades of blue and yellow- only within my vision.

They are gone, lost in time,

As I here lose my rhyme.

Alike we shall be lost too,

Some day, one day, not today.

For I have yet 'something' to do,

For my flesh shall burn to ash,

And bones carbonized to fossils,

And in them I hope someone inscribes,






Anecdotes of my life.

Someone...

Readers, allow me to bid adieu,

For I have 'something' to do.

Something....

© Rahul Mall, 2015






BLENDING

Rahul Mall

When a Persian speaks Hindi,

English and one another.

A trinity- fresh product,

Influenced by each other.

A new tone, in a different manner.

A new language or evolution of former?

Neither. It's a blend of four corners

Each trespassing their abuts.

In new tongue - same old blabber.

Languages and humans alike,

Blend undiffered, across contours unified.

With the current of the sea we sail,

To the meets of two races we hail.

With every new meet a new change,

Occurs a cultural, traditional blend.

A red teeka on the white face,

The African in a monk's trance,

The Indian on the streets of France.






Languages and humans alike,

Accustomed to the constant change.

© Rahul Mall, 2015






RAINY SARMISTHA

Rainy Sarmistha is a hotelier by profession. her passion towards poems brings

here to this lovely platform to serve her poems . She has a keen interest in

exploring and experiencing the true inner feeling of own self, that is

contributing her poems in various groups which is related to various other

talented authors. she believes in the inner feeling is the only way to experience

love and happiness .






MYSTIC CREATION

Rainy Sarmistha

Oh gorgeous universe

You are the essence of

Sublime creation

I walk along with you

till the dawn break into dusk

The dark veil of the night

Slowly whispering the truth

Of the sight..

The longing sky stares

At the mystic earth

The silence of the nature

Silently listens her own words

My contemplation was skysurfing alone

With a drift of wind

Like a falling leaf

Oh Universe

Hide me in your

Scented glory

far from the fake and furry

I pray for all the creations

Who are slowly forgetting

The beauty of nature..

© Rainy..20.12.2015






NOTEBOOK OF DESIRE

Rainy Sarmistha

Yes an empty notebook

And the blank pages

Of my heart

Held the ink

Of his affection

The floating memories

Of the time

Was knocking

At the door

Of my mind

The water of desire

Is flowing

As a treated decorating option

Yes the curious wishes

Was getting along well

With the cautious imagination

Every strokes of my pen

Tells the tale of love

And the strong nib

Makes it feel

Like love is

Turning the

Pages of my soul..

© Rainy 25.12.2015






RAJA ANJANA KOTHAPALLI

Sri Sai Latha is the pen name of Raja Anjana Kothapalli. She is a poet, fiction

writer and blogger from Hyderabad, India. An Engineer by qualification,

Anjana had worked as Senior Software Engineer in Capgemini and also served

as Assistant Manager in Andhra Bank.






FLUTE

Sri Sai Latha

(Raja Anjana Kothapalli)

Hollow with holes

I am piece of wood

Just a tiny stick

Play me right-

I am your breath

You’re my voice

Play me right-

I am your music

You’re my song

Play me right-

I am your soul

You’re my life

Play me right-

I am your flute

You’re my artist

Hollow with holes

I am piece of wood

Still a tiny stick

© Sri Sai Latha 2015






THE BEAST

Sri Sai Latha


Huge trees aplenty

Fresh water ponds

Bugs, birds and beasts

Nature at its best

A forest so green

Golden silk coat

Spotted in white

Curved shiny antlers

A sight to behold

Dear O’ deer

Go back to herd

Run for your life

Behind the bushes

Is an inhuman human

A hunter- ready to strike

Poor pretty thing

Killed for a sport

Skinned for a rug

Beheaded for decor

Who is the beast?







SOLDIER’S WIFE

Sri Sai Latha


Your words- I’ll comeback

The mantra I repeat

Day and night

Awake or asleep

Your letter I reread-

War is near its end

Soon I’ll comeback

Take care of kids

I kept my promise

Please honour your word

Comeback home dear

Your near seems too far

My beloved better half

Bravest man I ever met

It took half of my courage

To let you go that day

With rest of the courage

I await your return

Day and night

Awake or asleep







RAVI.S.RANGANATHAN

A retired Senior Bank Manager, dabbling in Poetry because of my sheer passion

for it. I believe everybody is a poet at heart. I do write on all topics that catch

my fancy.

I live at Chennai with my devoted wife. I am Blessed with a daughter who too

is a Bank Officer and lives two streets away with my son in law and their 3 year

old lovely little son. Our grandson is our proud and prime past time.

I live a contented life and in the words Pope

‘In health of body, peace of mind/Quiet by day/Sound sleep by night’.






NOCTURNAL NICHE

Ravi.S. Ranganathan

It is in night that I hear nights, every night...

And it hears me in my whispers; waking my own realm

While secrets keep knocking its doors.

It is in the night that I make the world a stage

And write my painful pieces on earth

Till my pensiveness gets unfurled.

Reflections of soul’s tears and fears

Begin to break away for dear worth.

In every atom of light my night shines.

I dissolve my faults In thorn ridden confines

Till flowers awake, delighting in designs...

Closely consuming nights and nights

I create my own nocturnal niche

Where my being resumes its smile.

© Ravi.S. Ranganathan

27.06.2015






SANJANA BANDOONI

I'm Sanjana Bandooni. I'm from Gajraula, small town in Amroha District, Uttar

Pradesh. I've done my schooling from St. Mary's Convent School, Gajraula.

Now I'm pursuing B.com from M.K.P P.G College, Dehradun. Starting from the

childhood I always dreamt of that I want to be a writer. To conquer my dreams I

started writing short poignant rants and then turning those rants into large

paragraphs efficiently. I'm a voracious reader who loves to read more and more

things.






MEMOIRS OF SHORES

Sanjana Bandooni

Quite seas

Sweeping in blue waters,

Waves flowing in the form

Of memories.

Gulls were flying

High in the sky,

The sudden numbness is enchanted

By the craving urge.

Like the two upsurging waves,

Colliding with her ramblings.

Shores reminds of her,

The beauty of smile.

Serene and calm as waves,

Busy empty minds.

Finding her way through minds,

Longing for the intimacy, that resides there.

© 2015






RECLUSIVE LOVE

Sanjana Bandooni

She always seemed to be cheerful,

Like a dawning spring.

That blossom always in sunny days,

Where once we fall in love.

There is a dew on the grass,

Nothing speaks of her warmth.

Dawning days in her kohl eyes,

Heat of molten sunsets.

Her blossom petals drops,

I traverse this path alone.

Her bare footprints covered,

Snow is the form of my tears.

That fall like snow,

Tracing those memories alone.

And I sit on our bench waiting,

Alone here.

© 2015






EMOTIONAL BITE

Shyamal Kumar Majumder

In this prosaic morning

Caught some words

Incoherent

Tried to make coherent

Played like a blacksmith.

In the forge of mind

To rein them

Scorched

Beat

Tempered

At last snapped my pampering

emotion.

And prostrated.

Suddenly

Another emotional

engulfment

To be perched

An attempt to enliven...

For another emotional bite

© Shyamal Kumar Majumder

2015






FOR AN ASTROLOGER

Shyamal Kumar Majumder

Seeking for an astrologer

What gemstones are being deficit

For the fingers of our world?

Amethyst? Agate?Or emerald?

What gemstones are being deficit?

Is that why our housings so

vulnerable?

Have we got any security in true

sense?

We live on the mercy of a few

people, mostly villains.

But we experience

Food and appetite are in

concomitance

As diseases and drugs

Sorrows and smiles and so on.

We believe it heart and soul.

Who or how have ensconced our key of happiness

Who is disturbing our happy

concerts?

Has anybody here to emendate our

wrongs?

Has any perfect astrologer to

determine our appropriate

gemstones?

Such scrimmages , such type of

vulnerability

Suit no more.

© 19 Dec,2015.






DR. SONIA GUPTA

DR. SONIA GUPTA (BDS, MDS) hails from DeraBassi, near Chandigarh,

India. Though, a doctor by profession, yet poetry is her passion. She started

writing in 2006 and her journey of poetry continued afterwards.Her many

poems got a place in various Hindi magazines and English anthology books.

Recently she became an established poetess after getting her two Hindi poetry

books published. Her three English poetry books are releasing soon. Besides

poetry, she is fond of paintings, singing, cooking, knitting, designing, stitching

and embroidery too!!!






HAPPINESS IN LIFE

Dr. Sonia Gupta

To be happy in your life

You need not have to find any reason!

Happiness is not only in gaining

Any name, fame or appreciation!

To cherish your happiness

You need not have to wait for a big occasion!

Doing your jobs of daily routine

Working heart fully for your passion!

Staying along with your loved ones

Sharing their every pain and emotions!

Respect your every relation

Throw away your fake admirations!

Being happy in others’ happiness

Is also a source of smile and compassion!






Thanking lord for all his blessings

Bowing your head in all his decisions!

Just be pure by your soul inside

Accept whatever is your situation!

Always live with your deeds

Growing as a better human!

Happiness is not only a word

It has a profound connotation!!!

© 2015






SUFIA KHATOON

Sufia manages *Our World Our Initiative*, a social and philanthropic initiative

on Facebook which

Focus on helping old people, children and orphans who are forced to beg or

earn on the Streets, connecting them to world.

She has been featured *India Positive, CNN IBN*, Femina, Telegraph, Times

of India, Taaza Tv various online portals, magazines and websites for her

efforts.

A curator and artists she has exhibited her works in eminent galleries like

Chemould art gallery, Birla art gallery, Academy of Fine Arts, Mirage Art

gallery, Shrimati Art gallery, and so on in Kolkata and appreciated for her art.






10 years experience in writing as a reporter in newspapers.

Runs Being bookworms an online blog which focuses on writers and books

related events.

Her short stories and poems has been selected and published in four anthologies

Seasons of love, Myraid Tales and Life sundae, her story was appreciated by

Fusion team clearing first and second round and she had won Fablery sci-fi first

round for novella writing..her poem appeared in Heart only whispers an

anthology of poems presently working on different projects.

She got chosen for Grapevine anthology contest of 25 strokes of Teen life

She is a young enthusiastic who loves to write pain and create. Writing for her

is survival without which she would lose her vision.

Her poetry has been selected for various national and international anthologies

namely Magnitude by IIA, Umbilical Cord by Rejected stuff, Milange by Poets

corner, Kaafiyana of Delhi Poetry festival, Create2inspire initiated anthology

The Dawn Beyond Waste , Avadh Literary Festival anthology 'Lifenaama"and

many more.

She is the co-founder of Rhythm Divine, a poets' group in Kolkata which

focuses on promoting poetry, organizing creative writing workshops and

featuring poets live on radio. It's about poetry reaching out to people and poets

evolving.






EDGE OF LOVE....

Sufia Khatoon

If love was more than feelings,

More than undesired and unusual things.

Could you still know love?

To stand on the edge of love

And jump into endless space.

Like the world meaningless

When mind is senseless,

It would find and lose itself.

A step more and the earth sinks into oblivion,

Speculating over the cases of love.

Love, so much love

Confused and refused,

It travels in nonexistent zones

To know if love was more than feelings.

© Sufia Khatoon...29/8/15






SUMANA BHATTACHARYYA

Sumana bhattacharyya is a multilingual Indian Poetess with passion towards

Hindi and English Poetry and is fond of Music as well. She is well versed in

English, Hindi and Bengali languages. Passed from Calcutta University, she has

completed spoken English course and Secretarial Practice.






O MY MIND! O MY THOUGHT!

Sumana Bhattacharyya

O my mind ! O my thought!

O my soul ! O my God!

My pen depict you

My words turned as you!

My poetry is only

Meant for you!

Rest of the world I forgot

Only for you!

I recall my name and

Only a few!

Where

I captive myself in a room

Where no flowers to bloom!

My life is at the brink

I am now a missing link !

My minute turned as hour

Hour turned as day!

The world appear as lazy

What do u think

I am crazy?






TAPESHWAR PRASAD

Tapeshwar Prasad was born on 26th October 1969 in Pathankot, Punjab. A

Graphic Designer by profession. Presently he works as an Asst. Librarian at St.

Xavier’s College, Digha, Patna, Bihar (India). Married to a beautiful woman

with two loving daughters and a son. His schooling was from K.V.S. Jorhat

(Assam), Sarsawa (U.P), Halwara (Punjab) respectively and graduation from

Punjab University (Chandigarh). Painting, sketching, reading and music are

some of his part time hobbies. Awarded BIHAR WIBHUTI SAMMAN for his

social work.






I FLOAT UNIVERSES

Tapeshwar Prasad

I float universes

To birth inside you

Yet you gap a void

To empty the rush

Dream often comes

Wide awake

Yet you flake my eyes

With drops of icicles

I hold my steps

Lest I worry you not

Yet mire are my act

To see your cry

© 2015






LONGER JAWS

Tapeshwar Prasad

Dab lightly

The letters from

The frosty windowpane,

To gauge

The measure of love

Breath to breath

Many facts

Remain unknown

To a face in the mist,

Still silent birthmark

Choose oneness

By every streak of finger mark

I withhold luxury

Life after life

To quarry upon

The golden mines;

Some more dead have risen up

To read your script by longer jaws

© 2015






LOST PARADISE

Tapeshwar Prasad

O the muted gloss of my gravest floss

Chime not, tinkling thy smile;

Wonton I ask ‘me’ to clone my face

And hid ‘myself’ behind

By the same blind alley

Through which my tears flows

O yonder, mantle of yore;

A silent bellow

Breezes warmth,

To every drop

Of sweet salty tears

From my cursory face

O ye

The ballerina

Of my dancing cusp;

I possess every point

To quell the force

Into thy bellicose poise






I have known

From every fallings of my eyes

The thaw of universe

In each drop, abandoned;

On the lost paradise

Bruised, and bruised again

© 2015






YUMNAH RAZZAQ

Yumnah Razzaq Is a 17 year old poetess. She started writing early in life and

got her first poetry book “Regrets” published in Pakistan, of which she received

a lot of appreciation. Earlier, she wrote for” Teens ink” online. She has several

poems published in online and school print magazines. She studied at

Beaconhouse school system as a science student. She hopes to inspire by her

words. Yumnah grew up reading Sylvia Plath, Lewis Carol and William H

Davis. Currently she shares her work at “Hall of Poets, Google+ community”.






ALONE BEINGS

Yumna Razzaq

Mobile flesh and blood,

Sentimental hearts perplexed,

Bony frames in flood…

Of rash traffic of this world;

With ironical life they blessed,

Jigsawed with intense sand mould.

Leading breaths in dismal graves,

Countless raports they embrace,

Storing mortality in caves;

Blowing off flames, cheers efface

But visionary sockets, so brave!

Paths to the teary tops they trace.

Alone beats, thumping wholly,

Hormones in blood swirling slowly,

Not red but deeply…

White they are in cages coldly!

More the vile -less the holy;

In depths, they are lonely...So lonely..!

© Yumna Razzaq

December, 15






SONNET: TO MEMORIES

Yumna Razzaq

Today we surmise like diamond and live at war

With the past that haunts our cerebral layers.

Those years that are locked, in key-less drawer,

We loiter as if chained with memorial stairs.

Recollections- Flutter, like a wingless fly;

Hover in numbness over Golden drapes.

And when the vision fell on the sky,

They tinge the iris with traceless shapes.

Ecstatic graffiti bliss the soul and madness

Lurid in glum; while those evening teas-

Bring seasonal shift and exclusive fondness.

Tears fell- By the glimpse over sun blue seas.

Memories are terrific like iron balls

They beat in life like flaming stars.

© Yumna Razzaq, December 2015






FRIENDLESS FRIENDS

Yumna Razzaq

The sunlight gets torturous, madly lethal

The self mourns over the yearly hoards;

Which lingers elegaicly over the dour sequel

And guards the mirth from dominating the vibes.

While the scorn lumbers in through the doors

Cold light and grey haze ruptures all the stipes.

Darkness – “Hi! I’m here among the cracks”.

Paving my grave it rests by the tomb.

“Will seal your soul till nothing lacks”.

It plucked the selves fictive bones and veins,

The somber tongue fall quite in gloom…

Consuming over the resurrecting chains.

The alone landscape stared and gazed

Self eyed a friend; it bewitched me

Loneliness – “Hi! I’m here, don’t be amazed”

It embraced my starving brain and thirsty heart.






“I’m your friend in untenanted wicked glee”

We friend-less-friends-befriended against thwart.

© Yumna Razzaq

December, 15






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HALL OF POETS, ISSUE 08, DEC. 2015

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