fragrance v1i4 & v2i1
TRANSCRIPT
Fragrance Vol 1 Issue 4 & Volume 2 Issue 1
Managing Editor/Founder: Waseem A Malla, Beerwah J&K
Editorial Staff: 1. Ms Shalini Samuel, Kanya Kumari, TN
2. Dr Sunil Misra, New Delhi
© Ira Joel Haber
Editors’ Message .............................................................. 3
A Dreamy Cottage ............................................................ 5
A Home Built Moving Onward To A New Home To Be Build ......................................................................................... 7
Sun vs Moon ..................................................................... 9
A Memory In Time .......................................................... 10
A Simple Family Abode ................................................... 11
An Untold Story .............................................................. 12
Around the Round Oak Table .......................................... 13
Distant Memory :Ricordo Lontano ................................. 15
Metamorphosis .............................................................. 16
God's Whisper ................................................................ 17
Dream House .................................................................. 18
Highrise Dweller ............................................................. 20
Dream ............................................................................ 22
Invasive .......................................................................... 23
My Dream World ............................................................ 24
Hands ............................................................................. 25
Tsunami of Night ............................................................ 26
On the F Train ................................................................. 27
Smoke ............................................................................ 28
La Vita Sommersa - The Submerged Life ......................... 29
Undress .......................................................................... 31
Editors’ Message
It is my immense pleasure to present you this issue of
eMagazine ‘Fragrance’, poems combined from the
submission calls of our 4th
& 5th issues which we could
not bring out as separate due to some technical hiccups
on our part.
You would be glad to know that Fragrance has
completed one year of successful publication and I, as
the Managing Editor, would like to thank my team of
editors, Ms Shalini Samuel and Dr Sunil Misra for all
their efforts and for investing their time and resources in
this venture.
Our thanks are due to our contributors, for their regular
poetry and photographic submissions, which have kept
us going all along the way. Without your love, support
and trust, Fragrance would have just been an unrealised
dream, gathering dust in some unknown corner of my
mind. Thus, it’s just you who deserve the credit for all
the progress we have witnessed in the past one year.
Lastly, I dedicate this issue to all our readers who have
been following us on our blog. We are anxiously waiting
for your valuable feedback on this issue. Moreover, stay
tuned as we are bringing out a full volume of all the
poems published in our eMagazine ‘Fragrance’, Issues 1
to 5.
Thanks again to every reader and contributor. We hope
you will extend your love and support to us as you have
been doing all along the past days, since the inception of
this eMagazine.
Regards
Waseem A Malla
Managing Editor
Fragrance poetry e-zine
A Dreamy Cottage
By Praveen Gola
Over the Mountains,
A Snowy smoky wintry weather,
Looks like Heaven.
Under the caves,
Birds are chirping chitter-chatter,
sounds like Patter.
Down the hills,
Green lush trees hugging others,
like newly lovers.
Sun is shining,
behind the dark grey clouds,
passing light sunbeam.
Fruits and flowers,
enlightened with shiny silvery ray,
just romantically play.
A small cottage,
inside the lush green garden,
made of bamboos.
Snowy covered roof,
warmth the room with Grate,
with scented fragrance.
Twinkling of bells,
Praying God in deeply thoughts,
A dreamy cottage.
© Ira Joel Haber
A Home Built Moving Onward To A New Home To Be Build
By Roy Mark Corrales
Being born to a humble abode where familial love is
garnered;
the pursuit in development of his or her own being
enriched.
Parental and supporting relatives cherished in making
things realized.
The babe becomes a toddler into a young adolescence
into adulthood reached.
The conflicting problems and everlasting triumphs
unveil;
The nourishment of body and spirit is further enhanced
to reveal
the path of trial and error till reasonable perfection is
unearth;
in furthering spirit makes its collective movement to
reach.
The building of peaceful and admirable familial home
resound;
The echo of yesteryear child now a builder of new
family resonate.
the fulfilment of the grandparents in bringing up their
children now as adult relive;
in order to bring home a bacon of tomorrow rooted in
heart of peaceful abode rekindle.
Sun vs Moon
By Koyel Mitra
The fire ball shines brilliantly,
An aura of scintillating radiance permeates.
It's robust shine glares at me.
I do refute its superciliousness,
The domineering attitude invokes hatred.
I cherish the night star gleaming,
With a splendid smile it gazes at me.
Playind hide and seek with the flocculent clouds,
It waves at me amiably and heartily.
Its lovely, inviting face laughs at me merrily,
Thus soothing and appeasing my frayed nerves.
I wake up every morning with dreamy eyes
That burn brightly to ashes,
Only to rekindle my fancies in the still repose.
A Memory In Time
By Cristy Upshaw
The moonlight shines within my window,
Leaving traces of the night's silhouette,
The slight breeze whispering through my mind,
As I lie here alone in this scented room,
Thoughts of you drift to and fro,
As the day's events unfold within,
My heart races with the smile on your face,
As I touch my lips with my two fingers,
Feeling the traces you left behind,
Of the moment we got lost in time,
A cherished moment to never forget,
A love that, which now is only a memory,
I could never take back the words I said,
Nor would I even if I could,
For you hold the key to the chamber of my heart,
Knowing full well you can come and go as you please,
Time possesses the love that we share,
For it's the only thing that can tell,
When we'll be together once again,
To be lost in each other's realm of longing desires.
A Simple Family Abode
By Roy Mark Corrales
Having an abode where harmony, peace and prosperity
embraced this home.
Today simplicity is indeed a cliché what is essentially
necessary versus the luxury of things
what modernity demands in any home today.
Accessibility in every part and parcel in making meal to
be delightful and wonderful for every family home;
members of the family share in every ups and downs in
every aspect of everyone’s life.
Responsibility and Respect for all persons and other
things as it is created for goodness and prosperity
assimilate in every counter from pantry to the room
which every person is respected for his or her
contribution in the family home.
Dialogue, rapport and shared responsibility prevail in all
aspect in this humble abode. A simple humble
respectable, ample rapport in dialogue levels where
problems are solved in a well discussed and decided for
good of entire family abode.
An Untold Story
By Simran Kaur
Diffusing ethereal radiance of serene
The vastness of azure heaven to preen
An inspiring profusion in air of cryptic
In air of Cryptic?
An untold story it sustains along
That seems perpetual and prolong
Hidden in smoke in mist an untold story
Perhaps, the life's abstract fact
Assumptions are they who lead to its tract
Where many stories began each day
Of our egotism, arrogance and useless fray
A desire to be supreme when kindles
Drifts you back in an obscure brindle
An oblivious assumption against the mightiest power
Known for the destruction and massacre
The mightiest of all the might; the Time
With its very reign every story prime
turns inconsequential and an untold crime.
Around the Round Oak Table
By Joan Leotta
Around the round oak table
Revolves our nightly show.
No matter how fast the daily grind
Over dinner, we take it slow.
No masks at this venue.
Entertainment for all.
Set the table, Pour the water,
Serve the food, Pray!
Let’s Eat! Curtain’s up! Dinnertime!
Equal billing to food and talk
Freely passed round the table
Pasta, salad, meat fill plates as we
dish the day’s events,
hopes, highs, lows.
a cacophony of topics--
Simpsons… Buffy…
Death penalty… test scores…
George Washington and golf!
When plates are empty, hearts are full.
Long after the sweetness of dessert is a memory,
Words continue to be served up in hearty portions
In Elliot’s rooms “the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo”
Around the round oak table, love is spoken—loudly, and
by all.
Distant Memory :Ricordo Lontano
By Terrence Sykes
Sometimes on late autumn evenings
in the damp early enveloping darkness
plane engines break the sky
crashing waves of interstate roar
trains cry on distant tracks
bringing a cargo of memories
taken back
to that little
Italian village
we made love
while it rained
all afternoon
fragrance of quince drifts even now
through an open window from the grove
Metamorphosis
By Koyel Mitra
Exhuming myself from the remains of
my past, I find nothing but depression
crushing my heart and piercing my soul.
Like a ghoulish dream passed those gloomy days --
an avalanche of sorrow, making tears
roll down my cheeks, drowning my battered soul.
An unbearable emptiness in
my heart, I groped for a ray of light in
my lonely melancholy.
Then a sudden aura of cognizance
surrounded me as I read through the book
"Kathamrita", enlightening my mind.
I was startled at the transformation
of my soul that turned a
new leaf, making me sprightly and cheerful.
Now, armed with true knowledge, and
spiritually purified,
I fail to recognize
my once dismal self.
God's Whisper
By Cristy Upshaw
Surrounded by the night
a shimmer of light revivified
a gasp of midair—respires
the manifestation of purity
Lamenting for God’s whisper
that brushes the tears—effortlessly
from the indulgent cheeks
of an isolated, angelic ambiance
Blanketing the heart's core
In the epicentre of a misplaced soul
the warming of divine incidence
encasing life—with HIS immense love
Dream House
By Tribhawan Kaul
Dream house, dream house
Housing my home,
Where
Narrow lanes lead to wider roads
Chinaar and poplar in frontal rows
beckon me just to roam.
Blowing of conch shells
waking up with temple bells
morning azaan also soothing the souls.
Casting spell, a chirruping sparrow
leaves follow breeze across window
majestic view of majestic dome.
Lovely children playing with granny
story telling becomes so much funny
carved balcony is left to adore.
Basking under rising sun
warmth of heart spread to every one
relations of ours never sour.
Cacophony of celebrations, fascinating
hallmark of jubilations, reverberating.
gupp Bacch/Bhand* & Henze# galore
River flowing down the bridge
breathtaking view over the ridge
music to ears with shikaras** abound
The house of my dreams
Evolving in thoughts
If wishes be horses
Could have ridden by now
Fate ordained it to remain a dream
But dream I must
For impetus it gives and the thrust
To pursue.
Dream house, dream house
housing my home,
where
narrow lanes lead to wider roads
chinaar and poplar in frontal rows
beckon me just to roam.
© Tribhawan Kaul
Highrise Dweller
By Tribhawan Kaul
Mornings and evenings witness
commoners of different hues
caste, creed, colour & age
jog, walk, yoga or meditate
groups of female folks assert also
with warlike maneuvers
learning the tricks of karate & judo
and the joggers’ park
shines in the form of oasis
amidst the concrete desert.
Giving eyes a treat, towering residents
wowing the architectural marvels around
but devoid of health concerns
keeping their windows open
simply to crane and watch
the images of dwarfed movers below
pondering upon advice of health gurus
yet thinking it a total waste
being on high pedestal, boasting
‘they aren’t missing anything?’
Introspection brings them down
to feel and experience
the smell of freshness
the chirping and tweets
the sound of breeze
the rush of blood
the rustle of leaves
the peace of mind
the romance with nature of different kind
new awakening dawns.
Surrounded by faceless concrete high-rise
the lush green park
rejoices
watching homo-sapiens
respecting its existence
for their own existence.
© Tribhawan Kaul
Dream
By Ndaba Sibanda
I dream of a better village
That will not fall victim
To abject poverty again
Because leaders could
Not care less
I dream of a better city
That will overcome the ills
Of unemployment and corruption
A city whose resources will not
Be looted and vandalized by outsiders
Because of politics of prejudice and malice
Please let there be lights again in that royal city
l dream of a country whose name will never be The
Ruins
A country whose all citizens will be treated with respect
and love
Invasive
By Cristy Upshaw
Faceless reality percolating
Through the cracks of futility
Waves of triviality—eternally
carpets the sorrow of what existed
Traipsing paths collide aimlessly
weaving a soul's—icy breath
Sunbeam derives tardily
exposing truth's web of lies
Weeds of past events—treads
upon the shadows of blossoms
Forming doubt of primed growth
in a once flawless garden
My Dream World
By Koyel Mitra
I miss now the coos of the doves perching on olive
branches,
Happiness has eluded me but I am chasing it like a
mirage,
Oh where are the soft chirpings of the birds at dawn?
Have they been effaced out in this chaotic world, a world
of commotion?
Oh do I see blood there is that my hallucination?
No, it is not, I see mutilated bodies soaked in blood
everywhere.
Did I ever hear the word called humanity?
How can human beings murder their brothers without
hesitation?
Is there no mercy, sympathy or compassion in this
world?
Don’t their hands tremble or hearts palpitate while
committing such crimes?
Where has love vanished? Does it exist only in
gratification of carnal pleasures?
I truly seek the evergreen love and celestial bliss in my
dream world.
Hands
By Steve Klepetar
He came to her with hands of rain,
translucent offer glittering
in noonday sun. Head bowed he came,
hair scraping his forehead, eyes dim
with the pleasure of her windy face.
Her hands flutter aimless as swans
who feel a restless wind’s cool beckoning.
She shows him her heels, plows fingers
through the air, swimmer reaching
out for some far shore, where sea
maids cry raw-throated songs and gulls
plunge along the fiery edge of fallen light.
Tsunami of Night
By Steve Klepetar
Birds were silent and disappeared.
All morning darkness
gathered, rolled in clouds like knuckled
fists. Leafing trees shuddered
into blackness,
window lights blinked on and children cried
for bottles and clamored for sleep.
Outside a blanket on the world, plague
of physical dark, substance viscous
and gloomy, mist or fog –
distilled obscurity, cheerless and sad.
Concealment as the heavy
breathe in our lungs, hidden and unknown.
Sirens wailed, smoke and ash in the backwoods.
Has it come to this, a tsunami of night?
Where Is your radiant hand, your brilliant
necklace of lights? What has extinguished your blazing
eye?
On the F Train
By Steve Klepetar
Acrobat’s vain leap
across the aisle of this crowded train.
Pitch and roll, a rudder
broken
loose and a rough
mutt howling in flurrying
snow, Lexington
and Fifty-ninth
street three days before
wild grapes flush with wine:
an image of a man
on his knees, dice
knocking
against brick, and black spots
swirling from the cup, leaping
bludgeoned with awe into the frozen world.
Smoke
By Shruti Goswami
The deep throated kiss,
Tasted of half burnt cigarette,
And some smoky feeling,
Just like old days,
When the smell of half burnt coal,
Smelt delicious to the nose,
Harbinger of good food,
Now just some distant dream.
I buried myself more deep
Into the kiss,
Immersed in a sensuous flow,
The world of smoke and cream.
La Vita Sommersa - The Submerged Life
By Terrence Sykes
un piccolo grande amore
that’s all it was suppose to be
a summer love
a mere vacation fling
old enough to know better
young enough not to care
that little pensione
with paper thin walls
coming so far
to settle or resurrect
a score
of years ago
kneeling in this little
chiesa on no tourist map
praying while his memory
preys upon me
searching
scouring my soul
until the soles
of my feet ache
evening arises
as once again
my heart submerges
into the venetian lagoon
Lost In Another Country by Terrence Sykes
Undress
By Shruti Goswami
Everyday, you undress me,
In your thoughts,
My traditional mind,
Bordering on conservative;
Detested, protested;
Yet surprisingly; never resisted.
And now,
Everyday, I undress me,
In my thoughts,
For your thoughts,
And undress those thoughts,
Traditional, to be or not to be,
Bordering on insanity.
Fractured by Terrence Sykes