ISSN:-0974-3057
ISSUE-IV October 2008
All Selected Poems and Poets
21 Poems Featured in this ISSUE
"You live by writing
Your poems on a farm and call that farming."
[Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Build Soil."]
Board of Directors, Editors and Administrators for Issue-IV
Sonnet Mondal (Director and Mnaging Editor)
Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya (Asst. Director and Chief Editor)
Dinabandhu Nayak (Asst. Director and Chief Editor)Andrzej Filipowicz (Arts Adviser and Painter)
Dr. K.V. Venkataramana(Chief State Representative)
Dr. Subhendu Kar(Chief State Representative)
Kajal Mondal (Chief Coordinator)
Sadish Bala (chief editor/ administrator of the website)
First Writer Support Team.Dave Matthews (First Writer official)
Editorial
Over the years Great Poets have defined poetry in their own manner. All these definitions which have been presented through the quotations of the respective poets had a common direction that is to bring out the best meaning of poetry and poetic thoughts or feelings. The tradition still continues. The Elizabethan Age, Jacobean Age, Victorian Age, the Age of Milton, etc. is over. The present post-modern era of poetry seems to reflect the theme of the poems in a fresh manner equipped with new types of imagery and tone. The search of the real meaning or feeling of poetry is still on and with the advent of new eras newer implications are sure to be unfolded. The present ISSUE bears a testimony to this very fact.
Dr. Dimitris P Kraniotis has been awarded the The Enchanting Poet Award.
Suraj Samtani has been awarded The Editors Choice-I Award.
Satish Verma has been awarded The Editors Choice-II Award.
Mohan Chandra Mehrotra has been awarded The Editors Choice-III Award.
We dedicate this ISSUE of The Enchanting Verses International to Roald Dahl.
We dedicate this ISSUE of The Enchanting Verses International to Roald Dahl
Biography of Roald Dahl
His parents were from Norway, but he was born in Wales, 1916. The family used to spend the summer holidays on a little Norwegian island, swimming , fishing and going by boat. When Roald was four years old, his father died, so his mother had to organise the trip alone for herself and her six children. At school, he was always homesick. At St. Peter's Prep School, all the letters home were controlled by the headmaster, and afterwards at Repton Public School, he had to wear a horrible school uniform [with braces, waist coat, hat and lots of buttons, all black]. The younger boys were often punished by the headmaster and the older boys called prefects. Roald lays much emphasis on describing the school-beatups in his book. You could get beaten for small mistakes like leaving a football sock on the floor, for burning the prefect's toast at teatime or for forgetting to change into house-shoes at six o'clock. The most terrible beatings, however, were given by the headmaster himself, who was also a clergyman. He was so cruel, that he made a pause after each beat to smoke his pipe and talk about sins and wrongdoing, while the boy had to remain kneeling. After ten beats, the victim was told to wash away the blood first, before putting on the trousers. By the way, this headmaster became later the Archbishop of Canterbury. Roald Dahl kept telling himself, that if this was one of God's chosen men, there was something going very wrong about the whole business. After school, Roald Dahl didn't go to university, but applied for a job at the Shell company, because he was sure they would send him abroad. He was sent to East Africa, where he got the adventure he wanted: great heat, crocodiles, snakes and safaries. He lived in the jungle, learned to speak Swahili and suffered from malaria. When the second World war broke out, he went to Nairobi to join the Royal Air Force. He was a fighter pilot and shot down German planes and got shot down himself. After 6 months in hospital he flew again. In 1942, he went to Washington as Assistant Air Attaché. There, he started writing short stories . In 1943, he published his first children's book "The Gremlins " with Walt Disney and in 1945 his first book of short stories appeared in the US. His marriage with the actress Patricia Neal was unhappy. None of their kids survived, his wife suffered a stroke. When she regained consciousness, she could hardly read, count and talk. But Roald managed to nurse her back to health, so that she could act again. Nevertheless, he got divorced in 1983 and married Felicity Crosland. He recieved several awards, such as the Edgar Allan Poe Award. His collections of short stories have been translated into many languages and have been best-sellers all over the world. Among them are "Someone Like You ", "Sweet Mystery Of Life ", "Kiss Kiss " and "Roald Dahl's Book of Ghost Stories ". He wrote TV series like "Tales of the Unexpected " and the novel "My Uncle Oswald ". His books are mostly fantasy, and full of imagination. They are always a little cruel, but never without humour - a thrilling mixture of the grotesque and comic. A frequent motif is, that people are not, what they appear to be. Mary Maloney in "Lamb to the Slaughter ", for example, is not a friendly widow, but a clever murderess. In his stories, the background is perfectly worked out: details are very close to reality. Roald Dahl didn't only write books for grown-ups, but also for children, such as "James and the Giant Peach ", "Fantastic Mr. Fox " and "The Gremlins ". About his children's stories he said once: "I make my points by exaggerating wildly. That's the only way to get through to children." Roald Dahl is perhaps the most popular and best-selling children's book author. However, these stories are so sarcastic and humorous, that also adults appreciate reading them. Roald Dahl died in November 1990. The Times called him "one of the most widely read and influential writers of our generation" ..
UPLIFTING POETRY
by Dr. Leo Rebello
Poetry is the language of the soul. It uplifts the reader to higher level of meditative states. If poetry is accompanied by lilting music, then listeners experience subliminal bliss and communion with the universal mind which is perfect.
Only a great person with a man’s brain, a woman’s heart, a child’s purity and Awakened Consciousness can write good poetry.
We had a teacher who taught us Sanskrit through slokas and laid the foundation for study of poetry, philosophy of life and wisdom of the universe.
Poetry, as compared to prose, is marvelously evocative, full of depth, rich in texture and complexity, startling in its revelations and warm and throbbing with life. The poems of great poets exude warmth of love, embody sparks of societal unrest and goad the readers to a plan of action. Hence, Poet is called an unaknowledged legislator of mankind.
The best examples of uplifting poetry are “Prayer for Peace” by St. Francis of Assisi, or “Don't Quit” by Anon, which have inspired millions from emotional abyss. Poetry lovers will also remember “The Impossible Dream” from La Mancha (Musical).
Like reverse osmosis, a method of extracting essentially pure, fresh water from salt water, Poetry brings out purity within you, by removing the pollution from your body, mind and the spirit. Poetry like meditation helps one to reminisce, retrace, re-vest, refresh and renew oneself.
In conclusion, poetry is an instrument of love and understanding, peace and harmony, hope and faith and all that is good and perfect.
WHO AM I ?
by Dr. Leo Rebello
I worked with Noah to build the Ark,
collect the necessities to tide over the
great deluge and helped re-build
the seething world.
I also traveled with Moses
in the wilderness and heard
Jesus deliver sermons on the mount.
Not long ago I fled Tibet along
with the Dalai Lama and built
Dharamsala - a seat in exile.
I built the Tajmahal in Agra and
the Kutub Minar in Delhi,
the Sun temple at Konark and
world famous Khajuraho, Ajanta
and Ellora caves.
I fought along with Emperor Ashoka
and then embraced Buddhism for
I too felt remorse for shedding blood.
I traveled with Alexander conquering
the world and when he returned home
dejected, I decided to stay behind in the
Himalayas and found Nirvana.
Mohenjodaro and Harappan cities were
built by me, so do the Great Wall of
China which can be seen from the Moon.
The leaning tower of Pisa,
the Sistine Chapel in Vatican,
the great pyramids of Egypt which hold
many secrets and the WTC towers
in New York, which fell on 9/11,
the Kremlin and the Eiffel Tower.
Unending is the list of my
contribution.
Like God, I am everywhere and
yet nowhere.
Guess, who am I?
The Enchanting Poet Certification
This Award Goes to Dimitris P Kraniotis of Greece
One-word Garments
Waves of circumflexes,
storms of adverbs,
windmills of verbs,
shells of signs of ellipsis,
on the island of poems
of soul,
of mind,
of thought,
one-word garments
you wear
to endure!
by Dimitris P Kraniotis
Editor's Choice-I Award Certification
This Award goes to Suraj Samtani of Hong Kong
A Mathematical Relationship
I now realise the value of time.
In less than a quarter, our distances have been multiplied.
Our communication has been divided.
In the moments to come, I hope to add more special memories;
And subtract the obstacles of our relationship.
May the intensity of our love be inversely proportional to every wave that falls in the Niagara.
May our Love for each other expand into the universe, and
May it be then integrated with the Higher Source
Until time reaches infinity, and beyond.
by Suraj Samtani
Editor's Choice -II Award Certification
tHIS aWARD gOES TO sATISH vERMA OF iNDIA
the buDdha was going to weep
For the fusion of minds
let the long vigil of night begin
for a cultural shock.
Prayer wheels were whirring
furtively.
The Buddha was going to weep.
Imperial march of hundred
thousand boots in fever
wakens the darkness under the milk.
Famished ghost of a town
can foresee the rumbling of
a dark moon behind the trees.
Bullet for bullet
in inner empire.
Gold lips cry at every reason.
Burnt-out shrine will tell a tale.
They were diluting silence of walls,
blood stained by the crash of towers.
by SATISH VERMA
Editor's Choice -III Award Certification
This Award goes to Mohan Chandra Mehrotra of India
IF
If you had listened to your inner voice
Turning a deaf ear to the outer turmoil,
Grace is well nigh near for you to rejoice
Like excising a simmering, painful boil.
If not, downhill is the course
No way to get to the ultimate source—
The summum bonum of life:
To put an end to all the strife!
by Mohan Chandra Mehrotra
NÃO MATARÁS
(Portuguese Poem)
Não matarás o inocente
Não matarás o feto
Não matarás o espermatozóide
Não matarás o desenganado
Não matarás a onça
Não matarás os rios
Não matarás os pais
Não matarás os filhos
Não matarás, Cícero
Não matarás, Santo Agostinho
Não matarás, São Thomas
Não matarás, De Grotius
Não matarás Direitos Humanos
Não matarás, liderança
Não matarás, religião
Não matarás Deus
Não matarás, bellum justum
jus in mundo PAX est
By Soaroir de Campos
Love as if a Statue
So much beauty so much grace
as in an ebony statue
beauty overflowing the body and face!
‘Shall I lick suck drench rinse and swab you?’
‘Yes yes, do it please
I surrender completely, at ease!’
Thinking and saying are de facto doing
happiness concurrently overflowing
both the beings;
a situation like this
etched as in a statue
is more enjoyable than to accomplish
which causes frustration to ensue.
by Aju Mukhopadhyay
AS THE DOVE
TO BE FULL ,ONE MUST
BE EMPTY OF NEED
TO BE CONTENTED
ONLY BY LOVE
CAN WE -
FLOWER INSIDE -
PEACE ,
AS THE DOVE
RELEASED
AS IS LOVE
SOFTLY -SOFTLY
THERE... IS LOVE
By duncan mark wyllie
Impeccable Panache
Spontaneous rev of radiance
will light up the blessed Nitid glow;
with a sense of non-indulgence
innate recovery will flow.
Imponderables will be answered,
Impossibilities will be realized,
Psycho-spiritual crisis will disappear;
unparalleled Spiritual Pabulum will be idealized.
The seat of relentless insight
slouches all uncurbed pleasure and fear,
steps up holy strength and unbreakable spirit
to stand the brutal shock of failure.
Infusing positive moments in the emotional grid
brings about cosmic consciousness,
petty quarrels and tiffs it will forbid
imbibing the spirit of oneness.
Spiritual acumen of the mind
gives birth to unfaltering sincere pledge;
lets the inner emollient light shine
and clears the darkness of rage.
True spiritual understanding,
infallible spiritual conviction,
and insuperable spiritual finesse
are the ultimate Impeccable Panache.
by Chitra Lele
A Mother of Seven Children
A mother of seven was she,
Stood a source like a huge tree,
She created a heavenly shelter
Alas ! Her dreams simply faltered
For they all flew away, grown matured.
Like the cycle of short seasons
She is compelled by her children
To shuttle from one home to another
Forcing to face the old age traumas;
Merciless, even in-laws became outlaws.
Having lost her husband at a crucial stage
Advancing age became a grueling cage,
The behavior of dear ones did upset he
r The same love and spirit she still shower.
For her, yet, they are children innocent.
Burdensome, if an aged mother is treated
Guess how her heart craves for death instead,
Yet she burns her heart to throw some light
To her dear ones, who have lost foresight
For their selfish age is became selfishly blind,
Bearing the impact of adverse atmosphere
Yet, like a huge tree she stood a source
All the birds flew away, breaking her dreams,
Lo ! She recollects the sayings of forefathers
Yes, "alone we come and alone we go away".
by Moola Veereswara Rao
A Feather In a Cyclone
it is hurled up to slate-coloured skies,
Twirled in buoyancies unreachable to man,
Passed on from droplet to droplet and back
Almost like a pendulum
Taking heavy clouts from a rasp cloudburst.
Sodden.
Battered.
Torpid.
Emasculate.
Plummeted to heavily-barked trees
And lie supine under leaves saturated by persistent rains
Taking hurried breaths,
Keeping its spinning head in place.
And as solace begins to settle in
The twister comes again and scoops it up and up and up.
By Stella Qishi
Visiting School
A gray cloud above my head hung
as the triggered memories had just begun
I couldn't digest the fact the school I spent half my life
now was right before me containing little life
the school which seemed never without notice
now stood still in a much quieter poise
tears started forming ,and the throat block began
but being able to sense all this from outside no one can!
by Amani Bhogadi
ROADS AND ROUTES
There are ways everywhere, if only we will create it.
The roads we take today were once impassable yesterday...
Humanity can take different roads and routes to more exciting places,
To discover more new world or discover the old anew
It all depends on us...
There was no way in the sky till we created an aircraft,
No way on the sea until we built boat and ship.
There places we are not reaching
For none has dared to create a path to it
Although, it seems impassable,
But I am convinced there is no place we can not reach
If only we will create a road and means to get us there.
And at times, we need not search further,
For there are ways open but we do not use
Because we fail to see it
Many routes used by the ancients
Many more that has never been trodden
Some other routes used in far and near lands unknown to us
There are ways everywhere, if only we will discover it
There are roads inside of us, but unknown
Leading to places locked within our souls
With promises of love, strength and magical gifts
There are routes within us
Leading to the longed-for heights
Where we can discover and rediscover ourselves as we could be
There are ways everywhere, if only we look sometimes inwardly
by Ifedayo oshin
I Guess
I guess people hate the truth
People don't care to look for the truth
I guess I'd be this way too if I was married
People don't read the bible nor the Koran nor any other religious book
People that do don't really read it
People that are radical follow their wicked hearts
I guess people hate the truth
People will find out the truth one day and they are not going to like it when they find out about their stupidity
People glorify stupidity
People are dumb to everything that isn't significant to them
People look at the news because someone else is finding the truth for them
People don't like to do anything that is outside their lives
People don't donate money they let others do it for them
People that donate for them keep some for themselves
I guess people hate the truth because people don't want to know the real evil truths that float about us
by Cokbod Lodwogo
MY DEATH - MY LIFE
hadn' t things hit me
with such fury
I might not have seen them
I might have never cared about
them
my sadness - my joy
sometimes I am allowed to see
how evil mingles with good
how from their combination
everything comes to life
my death - my life
I would have never found the way to you
if I hadn' t wandered about
if so many nights hadn' t blinded me
if I hadn' t found comfort in loneliness
sometimes in the middle of the tempest
deep silence overwhelms me
and while I am hit, battered and slashed
I can see in silence
how my death feeds my life
by Dorin Popa
The Lecture
Without a single word being heard
The lecture sat through me.
To the salvation of obtrusive silence
Came few slurps of tea.
Words, images and sounds
Usually enchanting and enthusiastic,
Did not raise them from bed of lips
and seemed emaciated and sick.
We stared at each other
With embarrassed empty gazes.
Mind still fluttered haplessly
In the ever closed cages.
by Pramod Khilery
I can't give solutions
I can't give solutions to all of life's problems, doubts,
or fears. But I can listen to you, and together we will
search for answers.
I can't change your past with all it's heartache and pain,
nor the future with its untold stories.
But I can be there now when you need me to care.
I can't keep your feet from stumbling.
I can only offer my hand that you may grasp it and not let you fall.
Your joys, triumphs, successes, and happiness are not mine;
Yet I can share in your laughter..
by TALAT JEHAN..
How Happy As A Child Was I?
How happy as a child was I?
Very much indeed I tell you why.
It was like waking up one day in paradise
Where everything was wonderful and nice.
I will not forget my childhood days
How I would observe this nature’s ways.
The magic that was the environment
Became my greatest entertainment.
I will not forget when I was small
How I would look at trees so big and tall.
Climbing and picking fruits, walking beneath them
Filled me with awe as if I was in heaven.
I will not forget my youthful years
How I would watch the plants and flowers.
Touching the leaves, counting the buds
Felt like playing the toys of the gods.
I will not forget the days I was a lad
How cute animals could make me glad.
Puppies, chicks and kittens, aren’t they delightful?
And fish and birds and insects, aren’t they colorful?
And so I will not forget my life as a boy
How I could feel the simplest thrill, the purest joy.
I really was so happy, really was so happy
‘Cause what I saw, 'cause what I saw was beauty.
by Leonardo Simsuangco
Love Is A Desire
Is everyone who falls in love stay in love?
Is everyone who was born not die?
Is everyone schooling finished it?
Is everyone racing finished the race?
Is everyone contesting won the medal?
Every heart wants to be successful but quits effort
Every heart wants to be reckoned with but are vicious
Every heart wants to be a millionaire but makes no impact
Everyone wants no suffering but enjoyment far from them
Everyone wants to be the head but refutes the tail
Everyone wants to rule the world but have bo wisdom
Everyone wants to be his own boss but have no capital
Everyone wants to fall in love but hate hunchback
It is only him can tell of his nature
I can voice what i meant
Love is a desire to disgust dislikes
Love is an instrument that binds
Love is an oathful desire......
by Oluwole Olawale M.
Seeds
God's gift that has some miraculous
potential to be able to hold
all the possiblities
to make the
plants to
blossom
with so many flowers
and fruits that have
their implanted
name that will
make themselves
known to the world
by sending the numerous
letters to so many soil beds
which will receive them with pleasure
for they have the time to breed and
grow the seeds to a tree or plant that
might become the seeds again in some
months or weeks
the weeks that mean the plants for the trees
need some months to breed and bear the results
of the seeds that will become the weeds that will become
the plants that will become the trees which will bear some
fruits. Yes, this the God's gift the tremendous power of creation
which will enable a small flower seed to bear some many different
types of plant shapes.
I see the seeds with wings
in the plants and wonder where
they will go maybe the wind will decide
where the seeds might have to go for it is
the transportation that the weeds will take to go
to the places where they can wait and be planted and
be able to bear some sprouts and weeds which will
become the bushes and the trees which will bear the flowers
and the fruits which will bear the seeds small and big in whatever
shape they want. I
see the trees turn into different colors these days
for the season is turning into fall when the
leaves turn into red and yellow the color
that my mother said of the pencil I
picked up on my first birthday
Babies have to
pick an object
from the
table
where the party food is served for the party
that is held to celebrate their birthdays
and to see what future the babies
would have. This is done by making them
pick one object from many like the rice, money
threads, a pen or pencil, the rice-cake, etc. etc. etc
By the things they pick, the parents can tell what kind of a job
they will have. I was told I picked a pencil, 'Was is a red one
or a yellow one...? '
Mother doesn't remember the color of the pencil I picked
but she does remember that the object I picked up
on my birthday was a pencil.
A pencil is the symbol for being a writer. A writer! ! ! !
I couldn't figure out what that meant until the time when I returned to
Korea in 1997 when I started to write some poems on a notebook
and that made some sense to me finally.
Was it a yellow or red one? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Why does it matter to you, Nam?
Maybe because the color of the pencil
makes some difference: the kind of the poems or stories
I might write or choose to write.
The red is the color of the blood or the passion.
The yellow is the color of the peace and the rest.
After writing with the red pen
I will write with the yellow pen.
The turmoil and tribulations have to be followed by
the peace and rest, yes.
We all need to go through some kind of a hard time
and then some kind of a peaceful time.
That's predicted in the bible where
we can find the consolation of the God The Father
after we go through the harsh and tough trials.
If there isn't the consoling words and phraises from the God
we won't be able to carry out the tough assignments that
God gives us to do. It's so great that we have some
peaceful time to follow the hard time.
And this is how the seeds with wings will find out
after the long journey in the air, they will find the
comfortable soil beds on which they will rest
for the winter and be able to bloom as some flowers
or weeds maybe some sprouts the following spring.
I await for the spring already while it's still
fall when all things are going dry and dull.
Yes, it's always good to wait for something
with some hope
when the time is depressing and gloomy.
We will have to spend the winter safely
to see the spring to come on time.
Hope your journey may be safe and pleasant,
The seeds with wings.
By Sangam Nam
Voices Of Awana
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Bringing and moving as fast as horses in the battle fields,
Conquering the satanic traps laid by the foes defeated,
Handing the winning victory over thy creator platter,
In which exceeding grace is sparkling with no surrender.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Gleaming, celebrating with applause prophesied.
Before His throne already commissioned to the Timothy mission,
Roaring with the Almighty sword and shield holding thy authority,
In which all men cleansed by His blood has no shame in the gospel.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Guarding by the divine power of thy courageous shepherds,
Along striding the suburbs of Misri facing to Canaan ,
Touching the heavens horizon by the showers of unbreakable hearts,
Where the glittering souls are longing for eternal stand.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Holding the mighty torch of thy King from Israel land,
Against all tribulations and starvation on the evil sand,
ng the chosen sons and daughters from the captivity,
Where the message of fire still burning the sinners valley.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Shining and enduring by faith in this long journey,
Among the nations caring and spreading thy forever wonderful,
Proclaiming Him with David harp and lifting Him above all,
In whom our prayers are seeking for the ever blessings.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Ushering unfailing shadow of whom crucified,
With the blessed breath and healing hands of thy redeemer,
Lighting the flame of hope towards the disappointed,
In whom we harvest encouragement from the discouragement.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Flourishing with the new covenant in thy living spirits,
In the misty dawn arising by the sweet psalms for Yehovah,
Blowing, praising and worshiping in thy temple manifested,
Where the honors are flowing with the majestic thunders.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Passing through the iniquity Cities of Babylon cursed,
On the way breaking every and each of the darkness snares,
Rising upon the succession promise to thy promised land,
Where the stars are falling within the palms in the splendid garden.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains,
Changing those lives by the voices of Awana in thy midst,
With the scriptures reaching and teaching the new souls,
Garnishing the crystal springs by the waters of thy redemption father,
In whom our strength abides and love adoring in the wisdom cloud.
Awana we’re heading to the holy mountains.
Treading with our refuge and our fortress in this temptations,
In the cages of sinners heading in it with thy salvation,
Walking highest and bringing them to thy most High,
In whom approved workmen are not ashamed, AWANA!
By Walter Keyombe,
THANK YOU
