Poets we have highlighted are featured in 'Three Sections.'
SECTION ONE - "CONVEYING PHOTOGRAPHS IN WORDS"
"PICTURE OF GRANDMA'S LIVINGROOM"
A kerosene lantern is hanging from a peg.
Blinking pale yellow light, shines on the big-faced shimmery maroon wall clock, ticking the golden hands swiftly.
The doorway arch echoes the bottle green
framing on the lower half of the room,
blue and orange calligraphy paintings
glitter glow on the dark enameled walls.
The duck-egg blue color Almirah,
closet of must-haves, is half shut;
revealing grandma's sempiternal beauty secret,
vaseline and glycerine.
Bedridden grandpa laying under a quilt,
on a coffee stained wooden bed,
tune in AIR Srinagar on radio
to listen to the Kashmiri bulletin.
Fair skinned granny sits in a corner,
wearing green Phiran and a beige scarf.
She is struggling with knitting needles
and a ball of pink yarn sliding on the floor.
Table-fan with white crocheted twee cover
rests on the window shelf, it stares at the
fat-bellied black and white television,
broadcasting the only channel, Doordarshan.
© RAFIYA SAYEED
Kashmir, India
"THE GILT-EDGED FRAME"
Caught in the trapeze of time, the frame that holds your face,
Eyes deep set, dark and lovely, like black irises;
The aquiline nose, resting on a proud butterfly mustache,
Flaunts the war fashion, of manhood and impregnable courage.
When I'm alone, and look at your eyes, a silence reigns, all around
Holding me in a sempiternal stupor, of dreams and memories.
You left early, when I was not yet man enough
To say a proper goodbye; but there's no regret
Even if you were there it wouldn't have made a difference,
For I've not changed much, I'm still there where you left me.
It's in my genes, but your silence, within the gilt-edged frame
Unnerves me, reminding me of the happy days we spent together.
Ah! You loved to be alone, but I've put you among a host of others
There, on your right, is Mom with her toothless smile,
Poking at your ineptitude, and reckless generosity,
Can you see mother smiling on your side?
She moved through a dramatic metanoia after she lost you,
And got her smile back,enjoying her deliverance from the marital womb.
On the left, you and your brothers, dancing around a bonfire!
While you lifted me on your shoulder, with your unsteady feet,
The rising heat of the flames nearly scalded my face.
That was perhaps the last I mounted on your shoulders!
When I look at the photograph, I feel anchored, and comforted.
You're part of me, as I was yours, and it shows from the smile, curled inside the lips.
© KALUCHARAN SAHU
India
"A SNAPSHOT OF YOU"
I still have a snapshot of you
In black and white yet I see your hue
Your jet-black hair thick and wavy
Wings of a dove ready to fly away
Coffee brown eyes warmly gazing at me
Turns inky black in passion's sway
Slants in mirth while laughing in glee
Firm lips the color of ripe dates
Curved in a smile a bit lopsided
Sun-kissed cheeks smooth and pinkish
Makes me giggle a twee ticklish
In my metanoia through time and space
Your photo brings back sweet memories
A priceless treasure I cherish
Amidst the miracles of technology
Where filters are a necessity
To Photoshop it I wouldn't dare
Your image it might greatly alter
Resulting in you becoming a stranger
Thus, to leave it as is by far is better.
© MYRTLE REYES EVE TEJADA
Philippines
SECTION TWO - "A 'SHUTTERBUG' OF HISTORY"
The metanoia of delicate or twee life is
temporal, not sempiternal
Today or tomorrow, one will take the last breath
for eternal
But memory of photograph mesmerizes
a memorable story
That recollects in mind the past glistening
story of life history
Making mind and heart cheery and merry
That becomes printed in heart as life history
© PRASANNA BHATTA
India
SECTION THREE - "CHILDHOOD MEMORIES"
"SISTERS ACROSS TIME"
The engine throbbed like a heartbeat,
three of us cramped at the stern,
laughter crackling in the salt air,
the sun pouring down like honey,
our hands gripping the cool metal,
the wake behind us rippling,
a temporal tapestry of childhood.
Once, we were younger, bursting with dreams,
as the boat skated over the lapping waves,
two sisters flanking me, sun-kissed,
their voices rising like gulls in flight,
weaving stories that floated in the breeze,
where the light danced off the water,
and every moment felt like a treasure.
Now, looking back, the years have passed,
like reeds bending under the weight of time,
the laughter still echoes in my bones,
singing sempiternal through the mist,
a longing for those wild, untrammeled days,
where we chased the horizon, unbound and free.
© CONCETTA PIPIA
USA
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