ISSN-0974-3057
ISSUE -III JULY 2008
ALL SELECTED POEMS AND POETS
~~~PAINTING BY ANDRZEJ FILIPOWICZ~~~
This is what poems are:
with mercy
for the greedy,
they are the tongue's wrangle,
the world's pottage, the rat's star.
[Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "With Mercy for the Greedy."]
Print version of ISSUE-III:-
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Publisher: The Enchanting Verses Group
ISSN-0974-3057
Copyright: © 2008The Enchanting Verses
Language: English
| issue-iii.doc |
~~Director's Note~~
Over the past three months we have been able to carry on our activities in an international standard only due to the cooperation of poets ,writers and readers from all over the world. We have received poems from eminent contemporary poets many of whom have also become a part of our organization. For each issue we have received poems of different themes and philosophies and our editors have fixed separate criterions to choose poems in such a manner so that maximum out of the participating poets could be represented. We have also received innumerable appreciation letters from great personalities from all over the globe which have esteemed the great panache with which our editors have done their jobs of selecting poems. We also feel happy that The Enchanting Verses International has been able to provide a platform of encouragement for young poets.
I am also happy to inform all our readers and member authors that very soon we are going to arrange International poetry competitions in schools and universities to bring up more young poets and revive the lost glory and essence of poetry among masses.
I personally extend my congratulations to all the award winners and selected poets for this issue and I thank all our editors , artists and representatives for their hard work and cooperation.
~~Sonnet Mondal Managing Editor and Director
The Enchanting Verses Int.
EDITORIAL FOR ISSUE -III JULY 2008:-
True that opposites run hand in hand- the flesh cannot do without mind and the mind must have flesh to live in still it seems that modern mind is haunted by a presence of a world beyond the grasp of both mind as well as flesh. The poems selected in this issue seems to prove our point. We repeat the same words as indicated in the previous issues that man is the most sincere listener of his/her own feelings or perspective. It is never the fact that he does not dare to think beyond this but he prefers to act within this. All the editors have their own point of views and what they do is just converge their thoughts into a single dimension to select a particular theme for each issue. This issue is no exception.
We have dedicated this Issue of The Enchanting Verses International to great nature poet William Wordsworth. We wish to provide you with another tuft of selected poetic collection through our ISSUE-III July 2008.
The poets selected for this issue are – Lawrence S. Pertillar,Rajagopal haran , Atraeyee Purkait, Sandra Fowler, Duncan Wyllie, Greenwolfe, Sandra Jackson, Ronald Stroman, Stella Qishi, Ankur sharma, Chitra Lele, M S Sharda , Jeff Lee, Celine Berghmans, Mary Wismer, Patricia Gale , Reem Elwy Yaseen Hammad , Cokbod Lodwogo, Seema Aarella,Pritha Banerjee , Michael Shepherd.
Mr. Lawrence S Pertillar of U.S.A. was honored with the The Enchanting Poet International award certification for this issue for his contribution towards poetry.
Jeff Lee of China was awarded the Editor’s Choice-I award.
Chitra Lele of India was awarded the Editor’s Choice –II award.
Stella Qishi of South Africa was awarded the Editor’s Choice-III award
~~~PAINTING BY ANDRZEJ FILIPOWICZ~~~
Poems by the Representatives of The Enchanting Verses International
A Tear For A Bird
To a man, the death of a bird,
There's no meaning in that word,
For birds do live or die,
Matters little to the human eye.
To me the death of a bird,
Ushers a touch of gloom in that word,
A depressed sense of sorrow,
Deep in my heart o'er a sparrow.
Of all the places around,
How the little sparrow found,
A roof-hole for its groom,
In my busy office room?
They both settled inside,
The tiny nest of their pride,
Flirting and searching,
Caressing and perching.
Their shrill and sharp noise,
As they flew across,
Tilted my mental peace,
Keeping me ill at ease.
My superior complex forbade,
Their trespass o'er my head,
Out they flew, at my chase,
But back they came, in retrace.
Their unbreakable obstinacy,
Won o'er my supremacy,
As I got reconciled to them,
With the passage of time.
A straw or a feather drop,
From their tiny nest atop,
I threw out from my table,
Thereafter without a grumble.
What a shocking fatal day,
The ever remaining sparrow gay,
Fell dead, belly ripped open,
By the speeding ceiling fan.
There remains still the tiny hole,
And my past memories of the bird's role.
Lo, the bleeding lifeless sparrow's body,
Lies in state before me even this day.
by
Rajaram Ramachandran
Golden Sunset
Golden sunset is the Nature's best, |
Power of Prayer
I was treading the |
Keats
Keats wanted the constancy of the bright star
only to see the heaving breast of his ladylove
only to hear the heartbeat of his sweet heart
Call it bathos?
Or your woman's breast is no longer a breast
It is the ocean fathomless and boundless
telling of endless bang and contraction of the multiverse
ceaseless flow tide and ebb tide by turns
night and day and life and
the earth
trying to catch the locks of hair of each other
And you can hear the cosmic logos now and then manifesting in bangs
If you could love your wife like that
you might be transformed into a bright star
looking upon the flux of existence from the sublime heights of detachment
And of course the earth and the woman will look sublime
But does it make any sense to the woman or the earth?
Those who helped you to excelsior.
by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
~~~~~PAINTING BY ANDRZEJ FILIPOWICZ~~~~~~
We dedicate ISSUE-III July 2008 of The Enchanting Verses International to William Wordsworth
A Night Thought
Lo! where the Moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
Oft is she hid from mortal eye
Or dimly seen,
But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien!
Far different we--a froward race,
Thousands though rich in Fortune's grace
With cherished sullenness of pace
Their way pursue,
Ingrates who wear a smileless face
The whole year through.
If kindred humours e'er would make
My spirit droop for drooping's sake,
From Fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!
A counter impulse let me take
And be forgiven.
Wordsworth, born in his beloved Lake District, was the son of an attorney. He went to school first at Penrith and then at Hawkshead Grammar school before studying, from 1787, at St John's College, Cambridge - all of which periods were later to be described vividly in The Prelude. In 1790 he went with friends on a walking tour to France, the Alps and Italy, before arriving in France where Wordsworth was to spend the next year.
Whilst in France he fell in love twice over: once with a young French woman, Annette Vallon, who subsequently bore him a daughter, and then, once more, with the French Revolution. Returning to England he wrote, and left unpublished, his Letter to the Bishop of Llandaff - a tract in support of the French Revolutionary cause. In 1795, after receiving a legacy, Wordsworth lived with his sister Dorothy first in Dorset and then at Alfoxden, Dorset, close to Coleridge.
In these years he wrote many of his greatest poems and also travelled with Coleridge and Dorothy, in the winter of 1798-79, to Germany. Two years later the second and enlarged edition of the Lyrical Ballads appeared in 1801, just one year before Wordsworth married Mary Hutchinson. This was followed, in 1807, by the publication of Poems in Two Volumes, which included the poems 'Resolution and Independence' and 'Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood'.
During this period he also made new friendships with Walter Scott, Sir G. Beaumont and De Quincy, wrote such poems as 'Elegaic Stanzas suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle' (1807), and fathered five children. He received a civil list pension in 1842 and was made poet-laureate just one year later.
Today Wordsworth's poetry remains widely read. Its almost universal appeal is perhaps best explained by Wordsworth's own words on the role, for him, of poetry; what he called "the most philosophical of all writing" whose object is "truth...carried alive into the heart by passion". ..
~~~PAINTING BY ANDRZEJ FILIPOWICZ~~~
Award Winners
The Enchanting Poet Award Certification
The Enchanting Poet award for this issue goes to Lawrence S Pertillar.
Humbled I Am
So grateful am I and pleased to be...
Blessed with these gifts,
To share with those
Who may find my blessings,
Provide them a mental lift!
Humbled I am.
With an understanding...
God has done this!
And 'if' my ego was involved...
None of this would exist!
So grateful am I and pleased to be...
Blessed with these gifts!
Talents some say they admire.
And that acknowledgement...
To persist with this I give!
by Lawrence S. Pertillar
~~~PAINTING BY ANDRZEJ FILIPOWICZ~~~
Editor's Choice -I Certification
This award goes to Jeff Lee.
To Time
Neither form nor frame, yet a name thou bore;
Imprison thee not could season or day.
Of thy force stood even evil in awe;
Thou mov’st the hands: no one can tell thee nay.
Thy scythe reduced scepter into ashes,
Marred thy product, thyself to resurrect.
Phoenix sings the praises of thy flashes;
Divine worth was bestowed on each aspect.
Is the whole universe one eye of thine?
Didst thou turn round the earth and make the man?
Oft tarnished, then polished doth Nature shine.
En route to wane, the fresh flashed in the pan.
Thou fly’st on the wing; ’tis too fast to find--
With thee none can e’er match, save human’s mind.
BY Jeff Lee
Editor's Choice-II Award Certification
This award goes to Chitra Lele.
My Mind begins to wander…….
As nature beckons me with enchanting gestures,
my mind begins to wander into greener pastures,
As I tour through reflective processes of my mind,
get teleported to a different realm, one of its kind.
Seeing through the frosty glass of my mind,
I experience myriad of feelings gushing by
which get translated into the daily grind,
but at the end of it all, it heaves a sigh of joy.
As my soul drifts into many horizons a-new,
my mind begins to wander in quest of energy re-new.
As dreams & possibilities satiate my head,
I get inspired to get way ahead & set lead.
Once again I return to life filled with action,
paint a landscape of imagination filled with great times.
Singing joyfully I dance all the way with gumption,
this is the symphony of each soul that rhymes.
As all windows of my soul are suddenly thrown open,
my mind begins to wander entwined with melody soften-
these melodious sounds in my memories will stay,
with me always & forever to the end of each day.
Alas my psyche space reveals the divine master plan-
I set foot in the world of the inner self,
stay connected to the Divine Being for entire life span,
to continually preserve & evolve my True self.
By Chitra Lele
Editor's Choice-III Award Certification
This award goes to Stella Qishi.
The Circle of Life
From the very first cockcrow
to the very last tick of time's utility
they tread this life always on opposite lanes
now every step forward nears fatality
and velocity declines but only at the shaking of hands
one short breath exhaled is inhaled by this SIGNIFICANT other!
so whenever the other turns right
this proclaimed partner turns left
and meet again at the crossroads like they never parted
God crafted them of different manners
soon flawless life is enervated,
impeded, incumbered and not endorsed
every inspiration is matched with almost adequate conspiracy,
they appear miles apart but they're locked
in close proximity like a wheel to a rim
and when the cries of despair uproar
you discern that you'll always be back to square one...or not
by Stella Qishi
OTHER SELECTED POEMS AND POETS
~~~PAINTING BY ANDRZEJ FILIPOWICZ~~~
To Mothers With Love
Not salaried for the full-time job
But mother, my love is the payment
When I was born
You were also born
Removing the woman in you
And installing the Mother thereby
Nothing is absolute
Except your love so pure
Nothing follows me
Except your prayers
That cling to me all my life
You started dieting
When I was afflicted
I will wear the sweater
When you feel the cold
You are the carrier of the key
Of my soul in your bosom
Your heart is an abyss
At its bottom is forgiveness
An ounce of you
Is worth my thousand lifetime
You always think twice
One for you and the other for me
I wonder at evolution
How come you have two hands only?
You are my perennial song
In the heart of my comfort
I may not comprehend the words
But the tune of love is engraved
I love you mother
As plants love water and Sun
Words are small
To show my heart
Allow me to cling
To your feet, the altar of love
mothers' day
Rajagopal Haran
India
Blue Windows
I think you frail blue windows of my thoughts,
Each pane a poem intricately wrought.
Via my faith, they reach your distant sill.
The music of two souls is never still.
In tune we sing together of twilight,
The quatrains are universally bright.
Warmth is immeasurable from shore to shore.
Imagination, Friend, can do no more.
by Sandra Fowler
We the pious deads! ! !
Some day we would be dead no more..
not get 'bound up' in any problems that stand
in our ways…
Let nothing hold back from exploring our wildest fantasies, wishes, and aspirations.
Not being afraid to dream big…
to follow our dreams wherever they may lead us.
Some day we would be dead no more…
Living a life more than ourselves,
Thinking of life more than wealth can buy.
We the pious dead… happy to live like this…
Without morals, values and principles.
Yet alive! ! !
Some day we would be dead no more…
Living a life of hope..
Know what we can and want to do in life,
Set goals for ourselves … work hard to achieve them.
Some day we would dare to be alive...
Be honest with ourselves,
We the pious dead would stop fooling on the name of love,
Follow our heart and adhere to our own truths.
by Atraeyee Purkait
I'll Die Loving You
When I wake in early morn,
Each time the day is new.
I thank the Lord that you were born,
As I'll die loving you.
As I sit alone and pray
And cling to love so true,
I'll hope to see you once today
As I'll die loving you.
When I see the stars at night,
I wonder if you do.
And hope they have us both in sight
As I'll die loving you.
When I take my final rest.
This day, if life is through.
I'll thank the Lord I lived so blessed
That I died loving you.
by GREENWOLFE 1962
Behind the mask .
Who is the person,
behind this mask,
its probably a question,
i shouldn't ask,
if i were to get a true answer,
the REAL true answer,
with nothing sugar coated,
no hidden agenda,
the answer would be something,
i..... wouldn't want to hear,
Well enough of these games,
i only want the truth,
i want the only answer,
thats really true,
because if I'm never told,
then I'll never know...who..i...am...
by Sandra jackson
Ms. Treated
She desires
No man to ever
Pick her peaches;
Or enjoy the fruits of
Her womanhood.
Since a thief,
Stole inside,
Her young fresh orchard
When she was 15 yrs old;
20 yrs ago,
Without permission
Under the cover of darkness.
In no matter of time,
The deliciousness of
Her womanly-ness,
Grew stale and barren.
A woman’s 'private parts, '
To her potentially sweet orchard;
Should never be entered that way! ! !
by Ronald Stroman
My Heartland
My heartland you are above the heavens
And the universe whole;
Your different hues, like my thoughts,
Dwell always in my soul.
Your nature smiles, your greenery laughs,
Your hills and shores send in trance;
On your bosom stretch the deserts great
Here on the flowers honeybees dance.
by Ankur sharma
THOSE LITTLE HANDS
In our land hidden are many
Hands that work hard for a penny
Hands at the loom all day and night
Weaving a mile long carpet bright
Hands forced to work by heartless kicks
Hands hurt by hot tongs and bricks
Hands that are by bonds held tight
Hands wishing their future was all right
Hands polishing hard on every boot
Hands that to the rule of Fate salute.
Hands they are of children who long
To play, and dance to a melodious song
Little hands that crave to write in books
The hands of those with innocent looks.
Hands that silently point it's a flaw
To take away their rights to read, write and draw.
By M S Sharda
A Humble Man's Love
The past two years on a regular tempo
we’ve breathed the same air.
Only now; too soon:
you’ll go and reach out…
…teaching the congregation:
the unconditional love of GOD.
The humbleness of your heart
will experience the new beauty in a
unique world.
Watching some evenings long ago
You strummed the guitar occasionally
though your Voice heard so strong
singing praise to HIM.
Smiling when groups gather
to festive feasts and celebrations
for the LORD.
Succeeded you have –
enveloping more and more
lost sheep and welcoming them
into the home of GOD:
filling our figures with peace and solace.
The past two years on a regular tempo
we’ve breathed the same air.
Only now; too soon:
you’ll go and reach out…
…teaching the congregation:
the unconditional love of GOD.
The humbleness of your heart
will experience the new beauty in a
unique world.
by Celine Berghmans
AS MY LOVE ETERNAL
My love alone empty darkness.
Our last kiss remind of the blue sky
pointed on the horizon empty and gray.
Your kisses, your warmth
Your closeness, your tenderness
breath in my wildly night dream
Desire of your embrace
A last drop of wine on this Glass, I desire
dainty casting still from your lips
Drifting in my mind silence of my sleepless
Daydreams longing for your wild embrace
Where I am with this empty cup?
How I Sleep in these cold cushions?
I miss you from the bottom of my heart.
I wish badly to be right beside you.
And with every new dawn of a brand-new day
thoughts are always on my mind these day
.As I leave my heart, out of our last kiss
by Mary Wismer
110%
Read careful gents
I am about to divulge a hidden secret
The secret list of what a lady finds appealing
A man who takes pride in the way he looks
But can not spend more time in front of the mirror than a model
Grooming is worth 30 %
His walk… must have confidence in it
No head hung low
Look us right in the eye
10 % on this one
Friendly but not to friendly, just a touch at first
A sensitive caring side
Please no over whelming machismo, it really is unbecoming
Strength, please no over emotional clingy types
15 % added for this
Chivalry the long dead art….
Open the door for her and no, automatic doors do not count
Show interest in her apparel
The pick up lines really are embarrassing
One’s like, did it hurt when you fell from heaven
Please you can not retract an awful line
Tack on 15 %
Remember her conversation, birthdays, and favorite things
Dig deep guys, find out who she is
15 % and possible more
It’s called making love, not a quickie, not a roll in the hay
Give passion and you shall receive passion
A gentle affectionate touch, holding and listen all the above is worth
25 %
110 % might seem like a lot but the old line still remains
Give and ye shall receive
P.S. Results may vary
(Please take no offence…Just a little light humor)
by Patricia Gale
The black days
when you look at my eyes ,
you will see the cruel days ,
when the wind used to arise ,
to make all hopes just lies .
you will see what days had done ,
days which delighted none ,
days when the happiness run ,
days which haven`t any fun ,
days when love had to die ,
days when no birds fly ,
days when any man say i ,
and had no patience to try ,
he only can cheat and lie .
by Reem Elwy Yaseen Hammad
Tree of Dreams
My mind is a tree of growing dreams
It seems like it produces more each day
But with every day that passes
There is also a forgotten one
When you add all the forgotten ones
you get a tree that is dry
A tree with many rings
but with one leaf
One green leaf that appears
every day but also dries up
when the next day comes
When a tree only has one leaf
no one really looks at it
It is a tree with no ambition
A tree with only one dream
No one wants a tree with one dream
especially if it is never fulfilled
by Cokbod Lodwogo
AFTER A CHAT WITH YOU
It seems so near, yet so far…
Is the sweet togetherness,
It seems so frank, yet so secretive…
Is the truth we confess.
Shall I live it or leave it
Or let things take time.
Shall I call it or kill it
This budding desire of mine.
One more transformation
Among many changes,
Like this, one more day passes,
And I am taking only chances.
So far we are from a touch…
And even deprived of glances
Yet never far from mind…
is your thought,
and hope denies to leave my heart.
by Seema Aarella
An offering of bliss to you
Your bliss is not my bliss
and yet perhaps
if I tell you my bliss
there may be a place
where we can meet
beyond words
My father
used to meet that small him
who was me
every afternoon from school
in the green park across from School
he had no job then,
it got him out of the house
One day
which lives in bliss
he had this tiny
black and white bundle
straining on a new brown leather leash
overjoyed to see me
though we'd never met
by Michael Shepherd
Alone
I sat alone, on the river bed,
When the milky white moon came out
And showed its silvery shade
Among the clouds which floated about.
I sat alone, on a bench by the lake;
When the birds whirled round my head.
Singing their melodious tune to give my boredum a break.
Their voice is heaven made.
I sat alone in field, staring at the horizon
When the thunder out of rage burst out.
The earth shook suddenly penetrating my imagination.
I losing my reverie wanted to shout.
Suddenly I realised I had lost my world of imagination;
And ran to a door before the showers arrived.
But the door closed before I reached my destination.
Man is cruel its what I derived.
Suddenly a hand with an umbrella stretched towards me.
I did not care whose hand it was.
I thought a few kind people there must be.
Not all with the hearts moss.
by Pritha Banerjee
((( FREE )))
They were-
Bound in shackles
100's! ...More!
Tied to chains, then-
Tied to floors
Said, “You’re A Nothing-
And Nothing More”
But one man claimed
He’d found a way
To flee the mindless-
Tyranny
He watched each move
Un-known to them
The where and when’s
They’d left and came
He’d have to time
His moves just right
Then up his plan
That very night
He’d not be added to-
A watery grave
A pledge, his life! ,
He vowed, be saved
Those-
Tyrants, Power- crazed!
… Blinded fools
With twisted minds, an’-
Twisted rules
Who show no mercy
To any man
Who beat, and starve-
Because they can
Will wake one morn
With one man less
Who’ll reach his freedom-
Across this crest
So…
When the evening came at last
A final sawing from filing clasp
He knew the moment was at hand
Released the shackles painful band
The Ship’s own lonesome swinging bell
Would sound the moment’s time
He knew that this, his moment’s call
Would resonate not watch him fall
The waves were lashing, their hardest
The rigging twitched and groaned
He'd take each step so soft, in time
Not to wake the heathens throne
Hoping that he’d not been seen
The shore, felt close, tonight
‘though standing there was well aware
The land was far from sight
Easing past the guards now
But feeling their eyes on his back
Yet this was his one and final chance
And he wasn’t looking back
Every step, became a mile
Each moment un-noticed
A careful smile
Then lowered his weight, a clenching fist
Into the chilling frosted mist
With just a piece on decking board
And a tiny doll he’d saved
One to keep him safe afloat
The other, his daughter’d made
Mind –numbing
Became his pain
As he lowered into the sea
Then drifted out and away from the prison
The sea, she sung, Your free!
And the breathing sea, seemed urging him
His glazing eyes made starry skies
The wind seemed pulling him
And clutching still, his piece of board
Was lulled by the seas own-
Restful chords
………………………………………………………………
Morning …..
Just the wind
Waking slowly on the shore-
A different day
…………………………………………
Opening his eyes he mumbles…. “I”
, . “I’am”
Crying and kneeling as the waves are lapping…
“ I AM ALIVE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Holding his hands over his eyes…he cries…
“ I am free………………………………………
by Duncan wyllie
THANK YOU
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