'Mirror on the wall
Something wrong and unreal
It's dark in the hall.'
In Our Little Village
John Chizoba Vincent
Born on 18th May 1990, John Chizoba Vincent is a poet, actor, novelist and D.O.P. from Nigeria. He studied mass communication and theatre art from Helen Paul Theatre and Film Academy. He has two beautiful books to his credit, Good Mama and Hard Times. He has featured in movies and stage plays around Iagos and has done a commendable job directing a few. Blessed with the gift of creativity, he hopes to leave a rich legacy behind. “In Our Little Village” gives a vivid description of life in a village. The poem talks about the dangers involved in not informing little ones about the consequences of their deeds.
In our little village Nkporo,
We live in harmony and help each other.
We share among ourselves the golden rules
And neighbours remember their neighbours.
We play hide and seek at our leisure time
Creating kite and building houses with clay.
When the elders are around the corner,
We play calm and whisper little to each other
As they eat kolanuts and drink palm wine.
Boys must not look at girls eye to eye,
And boys must not talk to the girls
Because we were told it is bad
But never were we told why it is bad.
At night, we stay separately
Under the mango trees to listen
To the moonlight tales of 'Omalinze'
After, boys dance along with boys
Girls sing 'kpakpangolo' along their paths.
They never told us why girls must
Be separated from the boys.
Until we go wild and nasty,
In our games we meet;
We feel the girls emotions and feelings.
We entangle, caress and watch them groan
And moan passionately in our arms.
We disobey the elders and fall in love.
We try to see what the elders were
Hiding from our today's eyes.
So we deep our fingers into where it ought not to go
Because the elders never told us why the boys
Must not be with the girls.
Boys meet girls behind the elders,
The pleasurable experience becomes sweeter.
We mingle and entangle with them for sometimes
Behind the village 'Iroko' trees and boys
Put girls in the family way because the elders
Never told us why the boys must not look at the
Pretty girls in the eyes.
Today is Very Boring
John Westlake
John Westlake (Profanisaurus) is a poet from Crawley, West Sussex in South East England. Born on 11th April 1984, Mr Westlake is a prolific writer with close to 350 poems to his credit. He is blessed with a remarkable sense of humour, but as Westlake himself admits quite candidly, in real life, it has landed him in trouble on many occasions. Written in December 2014, “Today Is Very Boring” is a random poem about a supposedly boring day. The events that occur are implausible but it would be amusing if it could ever come true.
Today seems to be very boring
nothing much is going on
despite the fact that my sea urchin shells
have adopted a shark for their son
My fridge has become pregnant with the washing machine
while picking poppies with its ears
it wants to give birth to an egg cup
despite my suitcase's jeers
The doctor came round this morning
to check on the eyes of my shelf
the chiller jumped up and ate him too
and sneezed out a bank for wealth
My socks have spent all the money
on jellyfish and rainbow wine
the police were called to arrest it
and charged a micro penny fine
The wine had been drunks by my t shirts
battling my shoes for a laugh
my trousers asked my hair for a loan
as they want to beat up a giraffe
My towels have formed an alliance
with my hoodies and my boxes
together they killed my mirror
who were hunting banister foxes
My pillows have run off to join the library
and the Austrian navy
they stole three stairs of whiskey
and left my toe nails the gravy
Yes today is very boring
the butter has just killed my bread
my vodka bottle has refilled itself
and I'm going back to bed.
After Depression
Kassem Oude
Kassem Oude (1955 - ) is a poet and teacher from Baalbek, Lebanon. He teaches French at an elementary public school. He regards himself as forever a student. He loves novels and novelties and believes that poetry is an expression of personality. Five years of psychological illness has shaped his writing and fortified him to face challenges boldly. At peace with himself, Oude today lives happily sans a pill. In “After Depression”, the poet tells us about the stages of his mental rehabilitation and recuperation. The poem beautifully juxtaposes the before and the after.
Like a man was in jail
In his cell still alone
Went out and did prevail
Back to life and its dawn
Fears from chest did disappear
Open to me the heaven gate
Mind acute and so clear
All my time recalculate
People around become nice
Full smile my face regains
Luck to me opens twice
In large joy I remain
Every minute of life counts
Little things have meaning
Like more rain after drought
Returned love as sacred being.
A Sweet Sixteen
Khalida Bano Ali
Khalida Bano Ali (1950 - ) is an acclaimed Pakistani poetess. A housewife from Karachi, Miss Bano Ali is renowned for simple poems that resound with implications far beyond the scope of a woman’s life. The versatility of Bano Ali not just as a writer but also as a woman is copiously established in the diversity and profundity of her poetic utterances. “A Sweet Sixteen” bears ample testimony to her dexterity and craft. When a sixty-four year old poetess suggests that she is in her sweet sixteen, there is a lot to learn and appreciate in that. The poem suggests that age should be earned, not taken for granted, literally. Age is not just a number; it is a perspective and an attitude.
I am only forty eight,
I don't count the years before I met you,
My life started when I met you,
Or I am even younger than that,
Because I subtract the time passed,
That I lose due to your absence,
A careful calculation,
I passed only sixteen years with you,
So what's wrong,
If you find me only sixteen,
A sweet sixteen!
Forever
Leloudia Migdali
Leloudia Migdali was born in 1959 at Itea, Greece, a nice little city close to Delphi, 'the center of world'. After her schooling, she pursued a course in English Literature at Aristotle University, Thessaloniki, Greece. She has been teaching English for the past 29 years, in primary, secondary and high school as well as in the Maritime College of Galaxidi. Along the way, she also acquired a postgraduate degree in Teaching English as a Foreign Language from Patras University. Poetry and writing has always been a passion and a preoccupation for her. “Forever” explores the possibilities of forever, both literally and metaphorically. The presence of the loved one is an experience that lives and dies in dualities, at times even in paradoxical binaries.
I see you and me together, forever
Walking barefoot on soft seashores, forever
Holding hands under the moonlight, forever
Listening to the silence of the night, forever
Speaking no words, still talking so loudly, forever
Our hearts dancing, tuned in the same rhythm, forever
Feeling each other's presence so close, forever
Merging into each other's eyes, forever
Wondering if this is truly us there, forever
Two hearts, two small islands in the middle of the infinite, forever
I see you and me together, forever!
Second Chance
Lopamudra Mishra
Lopamudra Mishra is a post-graduate in English hailing from Bhubaneswar, India. Born on 8th of January 1981, Miss Mishra has found time to read and write poems. At present, she is the Director of Credit Alliance Services Pvt. Ltd. “Second Chance” is all about giving oneself a second chance to have a fresh beginning. The poet churns out one paradoxical image after another to drive home the dire necessity to have a second chance. Life may not offer such a chance, still.
The waves of thoughts coir my stress to a tangled web,
Silently I move with my feelings folded;
The cool air between you and me slowly unburdens as tear traces,
As we miss the passionate days of cheerful braces.
Untimely rain pours its shower with a passionate wish,
You drive me crazy as the time's sting moves in its ring,
I could guess you, like me fumbling in expressing words of longing,
Now our silence speaks with heated air of passion,
Still mute with our emotions, we move ahead without expressions,
The chillness in our feelings may erupt like lava one day,
But things may turn another way, so speak your heart to me,
Let me hear ,the words very dear, that will give comfort to my ears,
I want you by my side so that I will share my stress and smile for my fear,
Start our love with rising sun rays, let it burn like a fiery ball of wire,
Never our misunderstanding to hinder our feeling,
Let’s give a second chance to our story, let’s have a new beginning.
Alone but not Lonely
Lyn Paul
Lyn Gay Paul (1965 - ) is an Australian poetess who began writing poetry during her stint as a Funeral Director. Despite being associated with the funeral industry, and despite her early interest in death poetry, majority of her later poems are about a difficult childhood. She has firm faith in the ability of poetry to heal wounds; to her poetry is a therapy that helps her unburden. “Alone but not Lonely” is a beautiful expression of the poet’s faith in the anodyne powers of poetry. There are so many people in this world with no one to call their own. The poet, on the other hand, is fortunate to have true friends to laugh and share stories with. Through a succession of paradoxical images, the poet articulates the broken thoughts that shook her up when her whole family unit underwent a change.
Alone but not lonely
Broke yet not poor
Down, yet not out
Smiling, but not laughing
Blessed yet not enriched
Hurting though not pained
Hearing but not heard
Risen yet not rising
Old but not elderly
Living..... Though, Not alive
Sweet and never sweetened
Angered though not angry
Fearing..... but not afraid
Awake and often woken
Beautiful, Inside and out
Anxious to lose these anxieties
To find again real life
Honest...Yes
Too honest
Now
Hungry for success
Alone but not lonely.
The Maze
Manu Mangattu
Manu Mangattu is an Assistant Professor in English at St George’s College Aruvithura, India. Born on 21st of December 1985, he inherited a penchant for poetry and flair for writing from his parents. He calls himself a brooding romanticist in poetry, a disinterested debutant in fiction and a morbid classicist in criticism. “The Maze” is a loose Shakespearean sonnet that pokes gentle fun at the queer English collocation ‘found missing’. The poem sees language itself as a maze – on the one hand language charms and mesmerises with its endless possibilities; on the other, language perplexes and annihilates with its predilection for paradoxes and oxymora.
I was found missing since last Sunday night.
I ransacked the shelves and checked with my neighbours.
They confirmed; so the news must be right.
Thank God! I was fearing something far worse.
Nay! It isn't as bad as it sounds mate,
For, earlier, I missed being found by them.
But now, they find me in a missing state,
And search for me as if I were a rare gem.
I never knew these scribes loved me so much.
See, my kins, for me they pledge a huge sum.
For the News, my pic they touch and retouch.
Ah! I never thought I looked so handsome.
Found missing! Lo! You now envy my state.
That same mirror awaits! Now take the bait.
Alone Together
Margaret O'Driscoll
Margaret O'Driscoll (1960 - ) hails from Cork, Ireland. She is a very busy mother of seven and grandmother of eleven. Her poetry has been published in many anthologies and magazines and one is reproduced for a UK English Literature GCSE publication. “Alone Together” is self-explanatory; it tells a sad tale of being alone despite being together. The title might technically serve as an instance of oxymoron but life is such that there is nothing paradoxical about the experience of being alone in company.
Alone together
Together apart
Sharing a space
Disconnected at heart
Alone together
For many years
Connections in common
Intersection of spheres
Alone together
Separate life
Just on paper
Husband and wife.
One and Many
Nassy Fesharaki
Nassy Fesharaki (1947 - ) was born into the rugged mountains of Iran, but destiny took him to the snow-capped Canada. Travelling widely has helped him acquire a cosmopolitan outlook, vis-à-vis an encounter with diverse cuisines, cultures, and citizens. Fesharaki takes pride in calling himself a member of humanity sans borders. Quite naturally, his poems journey through time and space. Fesharaki regards his poems as grounded on reality. “One and Many” gives us a sneak-peek into a poet’s take on the God-particle. In the spirit of Arthur Schopenhauer he concludes, “monkey is trees, you are I”.
Close your eyes
How to read?
There’s no need.
You can think
Only think
There’s a barrel
It is big
It is large
It’s huge
It is a pool
Now shake it
Shake it fast
Now faster
And faster
Very fast
Making waves
Millions per second
Open eyes
Look inside
Can you see?
Microscope
Get all aids that can help
Imagine
They kiss, hug
Also fight
So often
They are one
Virtual
This being
In oneness
Superstrings
After time change natural
A being in real
That is called
God particle
Base of life for us all
We are one
In the base equal, monkey is trees, you are I.
First Goodbye
Nivedita Dubey
Nivedita Dubey (1996
- ), is a budding writer from Rangapara, Assam. She did her early schooling in Mathura. The poem “When I set out for Lyonnesse” by Thomas Hardy moved her deeply on one momentous epiphanic day. Since that day, she has never had to look back. For her, writing verse was first a hobby; later it turned into a passion and a vocation. Besides poetry, she is interested in reading books and travelling. Presently she is pursuing her bachelor’s degree in English literature. “First Goodbye” is an autobiographical piece. The poem makes a foray into the poet’s own heart-rending experience of having been forced to leave her birth place after getting married. The poem is an honest and frenzied account of the hysteric thoughts that passed the poet’s mind during her departure.
Noisy streets whispered farewell
Whose tears had dried me up
Its light my darkness ceased to be
Far from me, in me it took me to
Sun’s shade it’s I pretended as first
So as to with joy I could lament
Its shrine my atheistic bow I gave
Its air I didn’t breathe but exhaled
Strong wind to my departure blew
Scant when my mind withdrew
My movement it despised or me?
Too futile a question to indulge in
Elated with grief at dreams leftover
Futile friends and enemies amiable
My overflowing fist their residence
All that, here my survival aided
Just a matter of seconds remained
Note of thanks I chocked to utter
Too good to curse that ailed
I to my pathway aligned
Its last glance I remembered as first
So as to with joy I could lament.
The Tale of Love
Nosheen Irfan
Nosheen Irfan was born in Lahore, Pakistan on 13th of March 1978. A secondary school teacher and a voracious reader, Irfan turned to writing rather late. Her dream is to become a professional writer. For the time being she attains gratification in expressing herself creatively so that her voice will be heard somewhere. She acknowledges that literature has had a great formative influence upon her, broadening her perspectives and giving her exposure to great geniuses of yore. “The Tale of Love”, as the title suggests, tells a tale of love. Despite the insincerity of her lover, the speaker needs him, for without him her quill goes dry and her verses lose rhyme. Note how the poem uses archaisms and rhetorical questions to great effect.
Pain Pleasure and Paradox in Poetry: A Verse Compendium Page 3
