KhepiAri

Book Review: Sea Prayer by Khaled Hosseini and Dan Williams Quote: First came protest, Then the siege. How does one read a poem? At one go or does one sit through it for a day? Is it the words that matter only or the history behind it? What of an illustrated book? These are the questions I always revisit before I read a book that is illustrated or is a book of poems. So my bossy was gifted this book today by our senior-editor, I grabbed it first to read. I have seen the book in every other book shop and bookfair I drop by, reviews calling it haunting enough to evoke bouts of pathos. The poetry in the book is small but stretched out on 48 pages of illustrations. Beautiful illustrations of loss and fear. If I had read the poetry without the illustrations and on a sepia page, the impact wouldn't have been the same. It's poetry inspired by a three-year-old Alan Kurdi, whose lifeless little body had washed up on shores of Turkey in 2015. A poem layered by Hossein...

Book Review: Black Wind and Other Poems by Deepti Naval. Poetry is an art form I tend to look at with scepticism. I enjoy a Neruda (now with a lot of self-loathing), I enjoy Frank O'Hara, Ginsberg is beau, I weep because of Alice Walker, Anjum Hasan has a special place too. And Ruskin Bond is my comfort food. But poetry is something I will judge strictly. While looking for poetry books for references in office, I stumbled upon this little book. Deepti Naval is an amazing actress I grew up watching on screen. From the sensual village dame to middle-class housewife to murderous old sarpanch, she is striking. Hence it was a surprise to find out that she writes poetry. A collection of poetry she had written in the 90s and early 2000s: the book has long narrative poems, short line poems, middle length musings, and epithets. The primary focus is on: the experience of loss, mental illness, grief, hypersensitivity, childbirth, miscarriage, suicide. Themes well explored yet...

Today is the Republic Day of our country, birth of our great constitution, I wanted to write an anger filled post on this special day. I began with prose, but before I knew it turned to poem. I know I am a pathetic poet, yet it spurned out. I had so many things to say. Today I finally realized I am a born Feminist, I cant be a silent spectator any more, when my country is turning hollow. I want change, I want safety, I want respect. Today my poem is dedicated to Nirbhaya the 23 year old Delhi rape victim, to the 11 year old rape victim fighting for life, the 5 year old rape victim in Karnataka, the 73 year old rape victim in USA, to every Syrian women and girl  who is abused, raped, molested, killed, to Laxmi Orang  stripped naked in our state capital, to every woman who face domestic violence,beaten, burned and killed for Dowry and to the unborn who are filtered out to be killed just because you are a girl and to every female to unite to make a change.. ...

 Life has been sweeter and less gloomy this year, we are the last month of the year. Well I have started filtering good from the bad memories. So now I find a more positive and optimist me. Again everything happens for a reason, I search for omens and yes I have learned to say yes. My junior, the young poet from Assamese dpt. had asked me to join the multilingual poetic meet he had organised. Poetry had never been so tempting fruit that I would bite at first glance. To me  "Poetry  is emotion embedded eternally". When I was in grade 5th I had notebooks filled with poetry about everything and anything. But after much ridicule I stopped writing poems. So when he asked about Multilingual Poetic meet, I was hesitant. I had good reason to say no. My parents 28th marriage anniversary fell on that day. But I had good reason to say yes- a new experience, exams were over, I was free. On 2nd December, I went to the old part of our city. It is a sha...

part : 1 POEM MY HAND AT POETRY : ( its not good I do not expect  it to be either, but I felt I should Share my words with everyone no matter how bad I write ,,,, Do Forgive me for saying the word Poem) I heard her moving When  I turned back, She was gone She was not my Past She is not my Present She will not be my Future. But she was Born, With me And she will not Die With me. She is my companion My only comrade Yet not my Guide She is : My HOPE She was born with me But she will stay forever After I have GONE.... One day she will Mature to Reality She will stay Forever To fulfill the unseen...... But now she plays As she hides again.... I wonder Will we win together ever...  P.S-  (its neither  decent , my  apologies... to my dear readers time and again. but I am in a mood  to speak out my words......) thanking you to bear with me, paulOaries