FRAGRANCE VOL 1 ISSUE 3 Jul - Sep 2013
Managing Editor : Waseem A Malla Editor in Chief: Shalini Samuel Cover Pic:Neelam Saxena Chandra
Dear Readers,
Glad to meet you through third issue of Fragrance. Fragrance has grown so fast. More and more submissions are pouring in from poets all over the world. Choosing few poems from that bundle isn’t an easy job. Fragrance is taking a step forward by introducing you our new co-editor Dr.Sunil Mishra. And I hope you would all love him. We have decided to charge reading fee for your submissions. First twenty days of reading period will not demand you any fee. This is just to ensure timely submissions. The fund will be used later to pay contributors and organize contests. I hope you will love this change. Regards Shalini Samuel Editor in Chief Fragrance Picture by Ira Joel Haber
The Moment Drowns out my voice to your symphony Into fathoms of thoughts to accompany The chords of heart, plays every string When I sense you, like daffodils in spring Blooms bright smile, as my eyes beseech For your presence, in silent melody speech Besotted with you, in bosom of this moment Seeks a ripple of pleasure ambient Freeze oh time! When I reflect deep In his charming eyes, in his arms as I seep -Basilia Leva
Darjeeling- A Paradise setting herself between the hills she nurtures as a foe rustic she is nectaring the urbanity embellished with a verdure of pines she looks like a beautiful lass demure she looks hiding her beauty set away from the population soothing in the sun no less than a heaven she view with just raw sounds of chirping and the fresh sounds of cuckoo she seem no less than a beautiful queen the twists and turns of the roads the whistle of the toy train the ooze of the smoke nowhere can be found set between the hills the early sun spreading over the kanchenjunga, as if redacting a necklace to a beautiful queen touching the sky, met with the souls of bravery here dwells the gorkhas bravery in their blood respect in their heart
they situates them on hearty land called the queen of hills gulped in the rain from mid may till the september end the wet soil smell pleases every mind defined with its cold weather the freshness it caters rejuvenates every tegument really an earthy paradise she seems.
Biswash Galay
In Another Country hills are more lovely in another country no apparitions to cling to remembrance from another country
shuffle of the breeze scatters my past from another country fragrances are more sweet in another country
-Chicory Poetry
Enchanting Rose Tracing the interlining Of an imprinted soul Vines cascading along The beauty of crème skin.
Entranced by a stunning rose Saturation of hues Leave a deep aura Of lullaby kisses.
Surrounding the hearts petals The sway of the fragrance Does engrave a beauty Of life’s most precious gift.
Photo and Poem Š 2013 Cristy Upshaw
Moon and Sun's Interlude Moon and Sun; the Father of Time Intervals of deities’ mystical plays, Classical beams silver gold screen Sprint kindliness and blissful rays.
The polarity of a distant devotion Through time and space collide, In atmospheric ebbs and flows No celestial wave can hide.
Cristy Upshaw
Satin Iris' Loving words blow in, Leaving me in silent prayer, Silhouettes light left, Rays of soft caresses, In satin sheets of iris'.
Cristy Upshaw
After the Haze There. Leaves swirling like snakes upon the road, rising, pinioned to strike. Sky’s grey venom, fanged thunderclouds.
On the news, hailstorms pelting in Jurong. Buildings and cars agonized by ice shards. Beyond our windows, rain’s begun a-falling,
the distant whip-lash of lightningflashes. We’ve little inkling what goes on beyond the pale pane of windows. Hear them rattling, like ghosts rapping about to come in. We’ve little inkling what goes on beyond the thick skulls of mentality. Some colleagues jesting, “why no hail our district?” The frost of mouths could bring in the curses, invite in the ghosts. The snaking leaves swept nowhere by the deluge. Our fortune of not-yet-hailstorms.
-Dan Tan
A touching touch Eyes kissing lips, lips kissing eyes, Icy winds were sweating deeply, Tempting rain of sighs painted sky, Our curvature falling steeply, Wet mischief of burning breaths, Hands caressing hairs, Bodies entangled beholding fun, Unaware of their matchless shares, Spongy lips tasting immensely, Sprinkling watery naughty neck, Delicate delicious bodies dissolving into one, Who cares for a “Check”, Feeling the wetted curves, Boiling bodies evaporating, Timelessness and motionlessness, Trepidation of innateness separating, Numerous kisses, kissing thy soul, Every touch of body generates sighs, An elation of emotive fragrances, Creating memorable infinite highs – Diwakar Pokhriyal
Whose face it is the mirror shows a different picture every day
the flame shooting out from the fireplace it’s counting the new arrivals the flame of the candle says good bye to those who are going away
anticipation gathers inside a butterfly with spread wings lies on the burning rocky floor
paint rolls off of the wall the house rises up for the fresh faced wind to fly it to another place
Gabor G Gyukics, Hungary
It cares not what you'll become a cigarette smoulders with you together the wind comes in to fetch the smoke looks around what else there is to take but rather it sniffs shows a grimace tears a piece off a paper bag tips over a plastic cup hits you in the face pushes the curtain to the side and slams the window after leaving you behind
Gabor G Gyukics, Hungary
That is your own during tail-wind the headwind pushes you back only the motion remains
your body is searching for the gap your eyes are already behind the wind
the weight of Nothing in your head is a pawn pressed in the corner you won't meet him ever but what's waiting
Gabor G Gyukics, Hungary
My Religion Take a pinch of the dust of the stars, Place it under gravity’s pressure And within our microscope’s vision To find bottomless echo canyons Between rows of multicolored grains Of new sand, no two alike except Two half parts of a spiral center Split and separated at two end points Of a universe. Place the slide in A small capsule and send it to sea, Return, place your footsteps in the sand. Wait, witness the magnificence of Nature and its timing of all things Within a single fused grain of sand.
Lyndon Seitz
MY ANGEL IN DISGUISE
I heard that there was an angel in the town I searched the town upside down Dejected, one eve as I was sitting wearily My daughter came home and sat on my lap merrily…
She cuddled me, she gave me a kiss Her kiss gave me an ultimate bliss… I looked silently at her heavenly eyes And discovered it was my eternal paradise!!!
Her fairy-like poise had a soothing calm Her actions had a majestic charm!!! Like a happy star I saw her face twinkling Soft words from her lips were jingling!!!
Her loving touch made me realise She had always been my angel in disguise… While I was hopelessly searching in Paris and Rome The angel was silently perched in my sweet home!!!
I hugged her and I took her in my arm I let myself free in her angelic warmth So lucky was I to have her with me Finally at peace - I smiled with glee. Neelam Saxena Chandra
The Rose Bud Of all the blooms that decked the pews, so splendid in their vibrant hues, the fragrant rose buds caught most eyes, holding the promise of long lives.
Yet outside on the dusty road, there lay a rose bud dirt-cloaked, and hurrying feet to its beauty blind, buried it deeper till it died.
Thus embraced the lowly earth, another child in early death, a tiny moment unheeded, unsought, no one to miss it, hidden by frost.
Cold it was and nature cried, but colder still the hearts that shied, from picking up that helpless bud, choking lonely pleas to be loved.
And still goes on the cruel round of crushing, stifling innocence bound, till we no longer hear the sound of falling tears that sink the ground.
Neha Singh
Original Sin One careless childish foot in pursuit, pressed down on a little chick. It opened like a burst guava, revealing its shameless red innards to horrified guilty eyes.
When play became tragedy and Eve bit the apple, blood stained her memory, marking her forever.
What protruded from the open body befouled it, was not part of it. Unnatural and strange it had sprung up beneath her oblivious foot.
Such nakedness had to be hidden. The mud was poured quickly, desperately the burial given and forgiveness asked but never forgotten, not even now. Neha Singh
Between Us Your fragile pulse lies hidden, curled up within knots of flesh. Soft and strong are the sinews of your arms. I am all loved up. Breathless in your embrace, a little frightened of your power.
Here at the nape of the neck exposed, your heartbeat cannot escape me and flutters beneath my lips as if unsure and afraid of me. When I cry, my tears fall right there. Crisp starched shirt becomes wet and clings to your soft hard neck, and I to you.
Neha Singh
The Sorrow of Trees The trees lift twisted limbs in supplication to any listening god—
“Make us dance as we did when we were young!”
But their trunks have grown too thick for such cavorting and even the wind can only whisper comfort.
Rie Rose
Early Morning
There is a softness to the air of morning‌ before the harsh realities of the day begin to intrude.
The sun, new risen, is warm as a lover’s embrace, not hot and scornful.
The wind whispers secrets in a playful tease instead of howling its anger.
Early morning holds the promise of eternity. Rie Rose
Love is an illusion. I am born alone and shall go alone. In the meanwhile also I’m alone. Only when I am in love with someone I make an illusion that I’m with one.
Draw hopes A movie moves us. A story touches us. They aren’t real. Knowing it, we do. We enjoy in follies. Be God real or not; Let us take Him real And draw from Him hopes.
rmshanmugam chettiar
Star anatomy Shimmering lip gel Vermilion redness of a setting sun Tembling, charred lips camouflaged Favoured tissues, smothering the lips Rejoicing every signature Bruised heart, jinxed fate mourning Lonesome soul, a few cigarette crushed Sunken eyes, purple scars Bed sheet scrambled, old scotch trampled Sleeping pills, diamond rings, Wet old pillow choked to tears Placid purse, flock of cards Stardom left Some overdose pills Some leftover sins
Another broken soul on a heavenly trip Life was a battle underneath the luster And you said “I was a star� Ronita Bhandari
Broken Wings Withered flowers, broken stems; Torn leaves, lying like fallen gems. Innocent trees, now fallen dead A mindless battlefield, a forest that bled.
I heard them today, those terrifying sounds Wrecking and felling homes to the ground This is just the start, I hear the animals say They will come, they warn us, for your forest another day. I flit my wings and fly above the carnage Precious life destroyed by a human and machine barrage Do they not see? Do they not hear? The shrieks and cries of my friends, so dear? Where are those chirps, those sweet melodies? Those heartfelt songs and amusing parodies. Oh! The fun that we had, the games that we played. How I wish these memories will not fade. Fade, like the forest that I see down below, A lush haven it was once, where the river did flow. Now a barren, hate filled land With only murderers and thieves, and other such clans.
The tears will not stop, the pain will only grow; Fear in our hearts; what next, will they show. The law of the jungle is dead and gone, For the law of the man is now born. Sumira Khan
Aimless The veined Dry Brown leaf, Unhooked Suddenly From a bare Tree, Off the black highway, Wanders off Directionless, In humid air Full of exhaust--Like an unemployed Youth, In formals, Blank-eyed, Moving around, Aimless, Searching hope, In the crowded alleys, High-rises, Of the lunch-time
South Mumbai, Yet not sure, Uncertain, Tentative, He--Like the Drifting Yellow Leaf.
---Sunil Sharma
A Grand Mother Wearing the barked face, she searches for her eyes to read her destiny written somewhere on the wall invisible from her.
Creates ripples of laughter sans dentures she is not the one, to mind like a banyan tree, she stands tall to give shelter to each and every kind.
Branches broken, leaves blown away yet happy is she as seeds grow and transmigrate into flowers and fruit laden trees.
Though beyond her reach now, far away. like a banyan tree, she still stands weathering the storms of the time providing shades to guests to take rest and to enjoy in her nest from time to time.
Cruel is the time but she has seen the worst will power sustains her mind and soul not the body though, now lives with anxiety and agony time not far off to wear new clothes and to say good bye to her uncaring progeny.
Soon she will also feel the heat like that banyan tree from the builders, land mafias and insensitive rascals of her own bulldozing the very roots of hers not waiting for her natural nirvana only to reap the benefits.
Tribhawan Kaul Freelance writer-poet
Ways of Love Descending darkness breathing down the living Shadows of silence becoming monstrous None dares to challenge rogue elements Breeze of love seeks passage through everyone’s heart Wading through the waves of emotions and actions An aura of tranquillity and serenity lift up spirits Bringing much need solace and comfort Trying to cement the path glimmering with sunrays Leading to ultimate calmness and happiness Wonderful are the ways of love. Tribhawan Kaul Freelance writer-poet
After death Amidst Whispers of ‘rest in peace’ vibrating entire cosmos a departed soul watching curiously from the above a body below surrounded by wailing people mournfully spelling out all the words available in praise staunch opponents eulogising white deeds ignoring the black ones wiping crocodile tears and laughing in sleeves friends, foes and family come to remember a departed soul which wishes to be the whole but for its KARMAS. Tribhawan Kaul
Thrown Away Death showed up again Today As he does every day We just don’t notice unless he Breathes down our necks Taps on our shoulder Dances macabrely on our doorstep.
How easily we throw away Friendships, relationships, Commitments, dreams Expecting them to stay As we cast them aside Like clothes discarded, Out of favor, until we choose To return Only to find that Death has come And stolen Tomorrow.
Valerie Chisholm-Letkeman
Senses
There's no “sound” as sweet As a baby's first tweet, The first time a birdie's wing flaps, The first song cheered with claps.
There's no “sight” as good As a flower bloom in the wood, The beginning of a mountain spring, The rainbow that the showers bring.
There's no “touch” as dear As mom’s presence comforting n near, A friend’s warm hug when life feels dreary, A loving hand's caress when you are weary.
There's no ”taste” as delicious As Love’s first kiss candy n luscious, The first fruit on the tree you planted, The cheers drink after a long-awaited wish granted.
There's no “smell” as pleasant As Soaked earth after a torrent, Passion embedded in a red rose, Purity of a newly born held close. ©Vinita Surana
Friends Knock Knock! Who's there? Hello dear! Smile is here. Welcome dear! So nice of you Stay with me for a day or two.
I’ve no riches to shower on you No gifts precious to offer you. But with you I’ll share My treasures of love and care.
A warm hug to make you feel wanted When everyone take you for granted. My eyes shall capture your image To be saved in my heart for age.
Even if you leave some day Your memories will find a way. Friends we'll be, whether far or near Be sure, to me you'll always be dear. ©Vinita Surana
Lost Innocence Dark Alleys leading to darker zones Furnaces smoking incessantly A trail of meagre sunlight peeking in From a square opening atop the barred windows A shrill whistle disturbs the ominous silence A flurry of activity commence Short fragile bodies move at lightning speed To deliver scalding hot molten glass From the furnace to the moulds To be moulded into stunningly beautiful bangles, Very different from those parched faces And now coarse hands and frail limbs That work day and night For long exhausting hours sans a break. Emptying the pans to be rushed back and refilled Muffled cries of pain escape from the sealed lips As a drop or two slips on to the blistered hands and legs Working on the moulds to create with finesse Shushed into silence by the hawk eyes Following their slightest deflection.
Innocence being strangled and suffocated to near death In the dreary and scary dark dungeons Bereft of even a breath of fresh air and light Slaughter-houses of childhood and future citizens Of this ever-progressive world. Š Vinita Surana
Please don't stop the music: silence is the newest loud silence is obviously loud turned inside out a multitude of gaping holes have been forcefully stitched into the fabric of my minds sanity am yet to learn a lesson am still not equipped.
Chinedu ichu