Monday, October 25, 2010


Stephen Gill Peace Academy

Vol. One

Vesta Publications
PO Box 1641
Cornwall, Ontario K6H 5V6

ISBN : 978-0-919301-31-3

Editorial section

Editor- in -chief
EFtichia Kapardeli (greece)




C copyright  Editors

All rights reserved .Except for brief passages to illustrate a review , no part of this publication may be reproduced , or transmitted , in any form or by any means , electronic or otherwise , without the written permission of the editors

Address of editors

Vesta Publications
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StephenGill, Dr.  
Box 32, Cornwall
, Ont. K6H 5R9 Canada (Tel. 613-932-7735); Websites:;
Ansted Poet Laureate ; EAU Adjunct Professor

Chief   Patron
 Stephen Gill World Peace Academy

Poetry is an experience that shakes a poet thoroughly. It is by a human for humans about a deep inner experience that is symbolized through a language. Through images and the arrangement of words and other tools, poets convey their experiences to readers in a beautiful way.   I will call these experiences or inner realities god within. It is not easy to bring it out. In order to paint a copy of the god within, an artist uses special tools as does a carpenter, a potter or a painter.

Literary an emerging society of literary figures of India and abroad.Its main objective is to bring the new,unknown,unexplored poetic genius.It organizes several literary activities like seminars,workshops,symposium,guest lectures on diverse themes. The poems of this anthology are a kind of efforts to live the God or good things within  them or feel their own experiences in their own way. 
I congratulate the editors and poets for arousing the attention of readers,through their poems and wish them every possible energy and avenue to help other poets and writers to show them the right path that leads to literary world..  I am sure that the readers will appreciate their efforts. 



Wordsworth defined poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings;" Emily Dickinson said, "If I read a book and it makes my body so cold no fire ever can warm me, I know that is poetry;" and Dylan Thomas defined poetry this way: "Poetry is what makes me laugh or cry or yawn, what makes my toe nails twinkle, what makes me want to do this or that or nothing."

Poetry is the chiseled marble of language; it's a paint-spattered canvas - but the poet uses words instead of paint, and the canvas is you. One of the most definable characteristics of the poetic form is economy of language. Poets are miserly and unrelentingly critical in the way they dole out words to a page. Carefully selecting words for conciseness and clarity is standard, even for writers of prose, but poets go well beyond this, considering a word's emotive qualities, its musical value, its spacing, and yes, even its special relationship to the page. The poet, through innovation in both word choice and form, seemingly rends significance from thin air.

One may use prose to narrate, describe, argue, or define. There are equally numerous reasons for writing poetry. But poetry, unlike prose, often has an underlying and over-arching purpose that goes beyond the literal. Poetry is evocative. It typically evokes in the reader an intense emotion: joy, sorrow, anger, catharsis, love... Alternatively, poetry has the ability to surprise the reader with an Ah Ha! Experience -- revelation, insight, further understanding of elemental truth and beauty. Like Keats said:

"Beauty is truth. Truth, beauty.
That is all ye know on Earth and all ye need to know."

For me, Poetry means to articulate the words in such a way as to evoke intense emotion or an Ah Ha! experience from the reader. Poetry is stronger than one thinks. I am very happy to put forward this anthology of young emerging poets of India and abroad. I hope you would really enjoy the literary feast being served to you and pass on your comments.

                                                                        Prof. (Dr.) Anju Saxena
        Sunderdeep Engineering College Ghaziabad (U.P) INDIA



Poetry is the personal stature of each person that is released intellectually in few verses. Poetry is given birth in a unique moment in a unique expression.  Poetry is the force that has the faculty to make you see deeply. When we read a poet through his works we see, realize and feel his sight, sense and voice.

 Certain poems resemble as drawing that however if it infiltrates no one in their space will distinguish the heavy charge of colours and meanings under their calm surface. Certain other resemble in a way they shine in the light with truths in the magic picture of world.  Poetry belongs to all persons of independent colour and race. It is a poetry that passes the borders of country and embraces the persons that seek a better world with Peace and Love.

In the past few years in the whole world I see the poets, authors and especially new children writing poetry. I pray to God that it should continue the way it goes on. I appreciate the efforts of all the poets included in this anthology and wish them all the best for their career as poets ahead.

                                                                                           E Ftichia Kapardeli (Greece)
                                                                                           Editor in Chief


pOET/POEMS                                                                                  PAGE NOS.

Eftichia Kapardeli                                                                            6-10                                                 

DR. RAM SHARMA                                                                      


DR.MOSAM SINHA                                                                    

Eftichia Kapardeli

Eftichia Kapardeli was born in Athens and lives in Patras.She writes poetry, stories, articles, essays and novels. She is an ardent lover of chorus like Soprano. She is a graduate in journalism from A.K.E.M (Athenian center vocational education). She has participated in many education seminars She knows H/Y 7 programs, English and Italian, classic kithara. She has been an active guide in the body of hellenic girl scout at a number of occasions in her country. She is volunteer fire-woman and has participated in many voluntary activities. She received discernment in her book *secret march*(novel) from D.E.E.L and *Sikeliana 2006* (salamina) UNESCO. Her poetry collections are *Confindings of Secrets* and *Light* She is a member of World Poets society.


The ground calm

 good for those

 that loving

from midday be burned sun

 fall flames

The villages and the cities

 stuck in her flesh

 knead him ..... with our blood .....

 and tally a sky

where we travel all ......

The voices to us it takes and scatters the air

 as stars newborn

 that waits

for vigilantly the new day.


It trembles in the hands

 the chisel

that indefatigable

the marble works in

bodies without movement
 in statues of fate the marks it engraves

In the ground the foreigner
is tightened the blow
in the Stone of patience hidden wishes
The Stone of unrooting
it is rubbed, it is cut,
it is deformed in the quarry of heart
the pain and the reason
it is crushed

As his colour
yellowed marble from  by year's without  voice
 silent deads feelings of heart
 the anguish a  sweet ach
a fast breath

Language unknown
with the will concealed command in the time
I sculptured the rocks
swords I seized
the fate I caused
the life I loved


My home is built with
blue stones
who fell to earth
and the sea real
a child's hand
prisoner remains
a horizon
touch the white.

Love heart
leads one
The streets were clouds
thirsting for rain
and request the beehive
y et the flower

It is time to
distribute new light ...
to root out anger
with kisses and tears
sweet to divide the
hours of chase
the shackles of time

It is time for
fee poured in the mind
century as a silent
thinking like a fertile kiss


Love when it blesses us
when it wrongs us
in the body and in the soul I sink the nails
in her full with blood heart in the flesh naked
I devise the kiss

I did not learn nothing other
apart from your name
I found him in rays
the sun
the fire it controls
heat my memory and the heart

when it blooms narkissos
a flame where all
it burns also him
the ash it makes dust of diamond a sin sweet
that the love him it gives the saint Communion
 and him it makes holy

In the all hearts of persons those
that remained chronic
be born
they grow  
Love in your own embrace


Dr.Ram Sharma

Dr. Ram Sharma is an accomplished poet and writer both in English and Hindi in the field of literature. He has added many feathers to his cap.As a student he has been exceptionally brilliant student from class first to M.Phil He did his doctorate on `Post-Modernist Trends in Indian Novels in English: A Study of Anita Desai ,Arun Joshi, Amitav Ghosh and Vikram Seth..He is a renowned poet, critic, reviewer and translator.His poetry is indeed of very high order which is read throughout the world.He has several research papers , articles, poems and reviews published in esteemed journals , magazines and newspapers of India and abroad including Poets International[ Bangalore] , Bizz Buzz[ Mysore], Rock Pebbles [ Orissa],Contemporary Vibes[ Chandigarh]Skylark[ Aligarh]Shine[Tamilnadu] Poetcrit[ Himachal Pradesh]Indian Book Chronicle [ Jaipur],The Vedic Path[ Haridwar] Metverse Muse[ Vishakhapattnam], Young Poet[Tamilnadu]Poetry Today[Kolkata] Storm Kolkata]Samvedna[Mangalore]Pegasus[Agra] Hyphen[ Shimla]IJPCL[Kerala], Indo-AsianLiterature[New Delhi]Replica[Cuttack],Bridge-In-Making[Kolkata]CyberLiterature[Patna] Points of View[Ghaziabad],Kohinoor[Bihar],Voice ofKolkata[ Kolkata],Re-Markings[Agra] Impressions [Meerut] Expressions[Raebareli]Creative Writing and Criticism [ Sikandrabad]Vishwabharti [Maharashtra]Besides this his works has appeared in such web journals like MuseIndia,, Literary India, Neo-poet,Academic India,IndianEnglish LiteratureForum, Impressions Online Journal,. .His poems are showing presence in foreign e-journals,,,Autumn Leaves,TheHouston Literary Review,Asian-American, PoetrySketch Booketc.He has to his credit two poetry volumes Muse[2002] and SereneMoments[2008]

                                                                 PERMANENT ADDRESS---
                                                                         C-26, SHRADHAPURI PHASE2
                                                                                  KANKERKHERA, MEERUT CANTT
                                                     250001, U.P., INDIA,

                                                                                     WEBSITE- http//


The colours of roses are fading,

poison  is mixing in the air,

the heads of trees,

are being cut,

birds are flying without home,

butterflies are lying dead,

like dead leaves,

water, air, earth
all are not the same,

mammonism is hovering,

the world is becoming,

a crematorium.


Plant a tree,

become tension free,

water it with care,

no pollution will be there,

birds will chirp,

cool breeze will pump,

it provides shadow,

for peace of dove,

gives us lesson of sacrifice,

make us learn to be suffice,


How beautiful are eyes,

but there is no light,

if anyone will ask the desert,

how many rivers are dried,

you can recognise words,

but why there is darkness,

in your fate,

why others are enjoying,

but don`t loose heart,

you still have eyes,

of heart, of mind, of conscience.

Control of anger ,
Creating of grace,
Out of materialic race,
Helping the poor with good pace,
Arising of conscience,
All human`s  conference,
With much patience,

A place of religious homogeneity,
aura of secular purity,
life full of humanity,
preachings of Sai full of continuity,
driver of sorrows in entity,
Allah, Iswar, Wahe Guru, God,
all in sanctity


Silver lining,

in dark clouds,

germinate in the hearts,

flow like flood,

shaking mood of earthquake,

bolt from the blue,

electric shock,

don`t kill others,

for your hopes.


Dr. Mosam Sinha was born on 20 June, 1978 in the city of Haldwani (Uttar Pradesh) India and brought up in historical city of Nawabs known as Rampur (Uttar Pradesh).He lives in Rampur and did his education from there only. He did B.A and M.A (English) from M.J.P.Rohilkhand University, Bareilly (U.P) India. He completed his doctor of philosophy on Dr. I.H Rizvi, an International poet and critic of modern time in 2006. It was first Ph.D on Dr. Rizvi worldwide.  He is a bilingual poet, critic, reviewer, translator, radio broadcaster, trainer, counselor and above all a teacher.As a literary figure, Dr.Sinha has written about 60 poems and about 180 haiku in English . He has also  writen 40 poems and two short plays in Hindi.He loves composing haiku..He has reviewed the poems of various contemporary Indian English poets. His poems and papers have appeared in Canopy,Indian Book Chronicle,Poet,Poetry World,Poets International,Poetcrit,Samvedana, Metverse Muse, Opinion Today, Gyan Jyoti ,Vidhya Megh,and many other journals and newspapers.His poems also exhibit in web journals such as,,,,Minnetonka Review,The Pedestal Magazine and etc.
In the year 2009, Dr.Sinha received Editors’Choice Award for his creative skills and contribution to Indian English Literature by The Home of Letters,Bubaneswar,Orissa.He was also conferred upon with the highest citation: ‘Life Time Achievement Award’ by International Poets Academy,Chennai for his contribution to world poetry.


Haiku on Woman

 Woman, the goddess
    is burnt in ashes of dowry
    for her sinlessness.

Woman,a precious gift
of Almighty,God is crushed
under the feet of man.

Don’t trample the rose
Resting on her fragrant cheeks.
God’s pure gift to man.

Vultures pounce upon  her
toying with her like a prey
in the field of ills.

Streams of tears are shed.
Virtue has melted in air.
A gift of modernism.

There is dark chamber.
sounds of sobbing come through it.
A woman is there.

Save thyself from snare
laid by so called gentlemen.
She needs your due respect.

Haiku on Flower

Hidden in green grass
like a lady behind curtain,
a flower leads its life.

Its beauty is endangered
as one plucks it for oneself.
Let it enjoy life.

Beloved can be pleased
with a word of praise for her.
Why to kill its beauty?

Born to spread fragrance;
to sweeten the hearts of others,
not to endure pain.

Don’t pluck lovely flowers
to be offered to worship God.
   Divine force is there.


Born on 2 May 1979 in Valsad (Gujarat), India, Rakesh Patel, after his Masters Degree (M. A.) in English Literature from The Maharaja Sayajirao University of Baroda, India, served as a visiting/part-time lecturer in English at Govt. Arts and Commerce College Khergam, Gujarat, India. From his schooling, he took interest in creative writing which later on became a driving force for his poetry. Born in a small village in Gujarat, he feels intimacy with nature and much influenced by Romanticists as well as Modernists.

He is a budding poet, writer and teacher. There was keen writerly instinct in him which compelled him trying his hands on writing. His creative writing corpus consists of several poetry, short stories and articles published at leading online websites and e-zines like,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, He has authored two poetry books titled “Reflections”, and “Green Moments”.

Open Up Your Heart

Awake and arise
To see the celebration of tranquil peace and
Behold the universe dancing
To the tune of Heavenly Light

Open up your heart
And be receptive to the grace of rain falling
From the sky

Fill up your mind with the soggy odor of the soil
And let your soul getting intoxicated
In the music of harmony played
By the mild breeze and the chirping of birds

Make your eyes calm bathing
In the milk-white mist of your past memories

Look the shy evening in a coral-garb
Waiting to greet you!


In a fair daylight
I could see the shadow of tomorrow to come
When I will cherish the fulfillment of my untold desires
In a fresh rays of hope

The bitter breeze of despair has no power to stumble me down
As I can see through the veil of dark
The arrival of frolic shower to wet my spirit!

I forget for a moment of my desperate condition
In the face of optimism
Because, the morning of my woven dreams will come
Like a newly-wedded bride!

Web Of Moments

Sitting in a dark corner
Of my shaggy room
I weave the web of moments
Like spider,
I have unceasing task to complete my work
Day and night I toil to get through
The bitter moments to survive
And look forward to have something
Worthwhile entrapping
In my web
So I can cherish the rest of my time
In the company of entrapped
And if not contented to it
Will look for another to come
And my life goes on…


In the midst of the crowd I feel lonely
As a withered flower in the beautiful garden
I lament over the past memories

I stumble upon the rocks of misfortune
Like a fallen unfortunate leaf
Being drifted away by the swift of the city
Into nothingness
I pray for the arrival of spring in my life

The cold breeze
Coming from the all directions,
The green grass standing under the blue sky,
The crops swaying to the tune of the breeze,
Murmuring of the birds,
The flowerbeds,
The whirl of dust running with the homeward cattle,
The narrow pathways trodden during my schooling,
And all in the village
Beckon me.

The Wind

The Wind blows with a high intensity
Knows not its path
Nor have a vision of the direction it has to go.
It drifts the leaves along with it without their knowledge.
They are kept in the dark
And are sure to go in void,
The pathless cannot lead and show the path.
“Are they all blind to the sign-boards?” I wonder.
Intoxicated the Wind!
Never learns to open the eye
Nor listens to the sweet songs of tiny streams
That may prevent their course to fall in the dark pit of the oblivion.
But alas!!!
They were fated to be lost.


Dr.Anshu Bhardwaj (Sharma) is a renowned poetess, short story writer, translator, critic, reviewer and editor in the field of literature and communication. She did her doctorate on ‘Modernity in the poetry of Shiv. K. Kumar.’ Her scholarly research papers, articles and poems (Hindi & English) have been published in various reputed international journals, magazines and books such as Poetcrit (Himachal Pradesh),Gayanamirat (Aligarh), Bhirahamnand Adesh (Aligarh),Contemporary Vibes (Chandigarh), Kohinoor (Bihar),Skylark India(Aligarh), Indian Journal of Social Perspectives BI-Annual Journal(New Delhi),Indian Book Chronicle(Jaipur),Victory(Jaipur) Indian Fiction English-Roots and Blossoms(Bihar) ,Recruiting S.T. Coleridge(Bihar) ,Critical Studies ON Indian English Literature(Gujarat). She has participated in various seminars. She has been member of Editorial Boards. She has been chosen for distinguished standing & has been conferred with an honorary appointment to the Research Board of Advisors by ABI (USA).She has been awarded with the honour of Women of the Year 2006 by THE AMERICAN BIOGRAPHICAL INSTITUTE (USA).

. A venture in management studies Business Communication being her forth. Lectures to enhance Personality of Engineering and Management students have also been taken up by her. She has written three books – one ‘Business Communication’ and two ‘Communication Skills’ and ‘New Consciousnesses’ are coming forth. She has been teaching English language and literature for the last four years.. At present she is an Associate Professor in Dept of Humanities and Social Sciences in Arya College of Engineering and Information Technology, Kukas, Jaipur, Rajasthan, India. 

A Critical Moment

A moment of a child‘s birth on earth
That welcomed by mirth.
A pleasure of obeying the Lord
But a pain of leaving the Home of God.

A moment of a new bride
Going to her husband’s home in palanquin with pride.
A pleasure of going new relation
But a pain of having separation.

A moment of one’s death
Having the last long breath.
A pleasure of regaining the Home of God.
But a pain of leaving the borrowed Lord.

Moments of birth and death
Both welcomed by earth.
One suffers for them.
A pleasure and pain are the sons of them.

Unborn Feeling

Save me, Mom,
Kill me not your job.
Why you fear,
You woman mere.
Leave your worry,
Going to birth a girl, sorry.

You a lady
Once was a baby.
Now maturity you have gained,
Have no feeling of pained.
Have right to kill me,
I am in your womb as you see me.

I heard mother a beautiful relation,
Goes on forever without separation.
But Alas! It has broken,
Because of abortion.
I wish you will be blessed with boys,
And called the mother of only boys
Because We are Door less

Lips are speechless
Eyes are restless
Ears are hear less
Mind is listless
Heart is soulless
Body is breathless
Veins are senseless
Because we are door less.

A light was in my eyes
A light was in my eyes
Visiting you.
A glow was on my face
Thinking you.
A voice was in my ears
Listening you.
A smile was on my lips
Wishing you.
A soul was in my body
Keeping you.
A cold was on my bed
Carrying me not you.

Because You Not With Me

Because you not with me

Clouds of happiness
Around me
Because you with me.

Dumb of emptiness
Away from me
Because you with me.

Heaps of sorrow nesses
Surrounds me
Because you not with me.



Dr Archana Rathore is Sr Lecturer in the Department of English, DAK PG College, Moradabad, UP, India. She did her D Phil on “Cross-Cultural Parallelism in the Plays of Harold Pinter and Rameshwar Prem: A Comparative Study” from the University of Allahabad. Her areas of interest include Pakistani Literature in English as well as Contemporary Indian and African American Literature. Her paper on Girish Karnad’s play “Fire and the Rain” has been published in an Anthology called “Girish Karnad: Thunder on Stage” and another paper on Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Namesake” has been published in a Social Science Journal.

                                              Merry Christmas

Again there is going to be Christmas,
But this time it is not just the winter breaks-
Since you arrived in my life, a Christian
Its like Diwali with loads of cakes.

Earlier Santa didn’t hold much for me
There were no wishes, no dreams.
But now there is so much to wish for;
My inner aspirations and my screams.

The snowballs and all that romantic imagery,
The trinkets on the miniature X'mas tree,
Inspire me to hang the quanta of hopes
That was missing when I was fancy-free.

Just the onset of intriguing pink chill
Makes me think of nothing but you.
This Christmas is so sacred and special
As it is flavoured with your hue.

You know I have become that little girl
Waiting for Santa to give her the gift.
No, but He has already gifted me YOU
So just praying there shouldn’t be any rift.

This Christmas, I want so much to be with you
Shower my emotions, my aspirations, my soul.
This Christmas, I want to thank God
That He made you my ultimate goal.

I am happy that you came in my life
An angel of God, to infuse jingle in my voice,
The gallant knight to ignite my feminine side,
I am just so happy at His choice!

Merry Christmas to you and me!
Merry Christmas to everybody!!
The world was never better for me;
I am contended, even if it’s a reverie!!


Don’t you think I don’t deserve this?
Your truthfullness has snatched my bliss.
Now I’ll tell you what to do:
sliver your ego, pride undo.
Take my hand and lead the way;
tell me all you want to say.
Whisper softly in my ear,
all those things I want to hear.
Smack my lips and touch my skin;
bring out passions deep within.
Pull me close and hold me near;
take away my pain and fear.
In the darkness of the night,
be my beacon, shine your light.
In the brightness of the sun,
show me that you are the one.
Give me wings so I can fly;
for I can soar when you're nearby.
Enter my heart, break down the wall,
it's time for me to watch it fall.
I've been a prisoner, can't you see?
Break my chains and set me free.
Strip me of my armor tight;
you'll find I won't put up a fight.
Release my soul held deep within
Uplift my spirit, that is sinking.


The one thing that I like
Is much awaited rain.
Blessed with the power
To wash away all the pain.
Doing away every last tear
Blooming lilacs, daisies
Giving hope to the sprouts
And taking away the fear.

Another body that I love
Is the silver sphere of moon.
It is the harbinger of a night
That reminds me of your swoon.
Its  pearly whiteness
Enveloping the earth
Is the real source of
Enlightenment and mirth.

All that glitters is not gold,
But I love the golden globe
Glittering the golden arrows bright
It helps me find my true insight
Starting off a brand new day
Enabling me to see
What comes my way.

The thing most close to me
Is His benediction unconditionally
My prayers  answered
My efforts meted out
My aspirations fulfilled.
The pulsating life
Everything is a sheer bliss!!!

Post modernism

These are the things of the past…
When we had wearable fashion
Instead of the fashionable wear
Dressing like a disaster was more chic
Instead of power dressing.
Savage yet sophisticated crooks
Were more in vogue
Than body art and grunge looks.
Clean back sweeps had more heads turning
Than tousled bedheads
Maundering and meandering.
It was enough to be just human
Instead of being a metrosexual man.
Getting up with the skylark
Never bred corpuscular creatures.
Subterfuges of the character
Were hardly the civic features.
Raconteurs were more wanted on tables
Than the decanters spilling the labels.
Ecstasy and human tragedy
Were the regular scurry of activity
Rather than simulacrum of power
Exhausting public property.
But with the return of retrostyling
And the dictum that
History repeats itself:
Lets hope gen next realizes
Life is not made of the breaths we take.
But by the moments
That take our breaths away!

A theme for my dreams

In rupture or in repose
In thorns or in rose
In waves or in blaze
In sunshine or in haze

Runs a common thread…

That makes my emotions threadbare
They are torn, scattered everywhere
Charging the air, water, sky and earth
Stirring joy, languor, need and mirth.

Thus, the air that seeps into me
The water that creeps into me
The earth that keeps me grounded
The sky that seems little hounded

Again betray of that common thread…

An omnipresence of your essence
In Life’s music and its cadence,
The energy that gives me drive
The passion asking me to strive.

Yes, you are in every stream
Certainly, a theme for my Dream!

Sunil Sharma

Sunil Sharma, Ph.D., is currently associate professor and head, department of English, Model College—an A-grade college affiliated to the University of Mumbai, India. He is a bilingual critic, poet, literary interviewer, editor, translator, essayist and fiction writer. Some of his short stories and poems have already appeared, among others, in prestigious journals like: Hudson View (South Africa), Munyori (USA e-zine), The Plebian Rag (USA) and the Bicycle Review (USA), New Woman (Mumbai), Creative Saplings, Muse India (both of them e-zines), the Seva Bharati Journal of English Studies (West Bengal), Indian Literature (of Sahitya Akademy, New Delhi), Indian Literary Panorama (Mumbai), Contemporary Vibes (Chandigarh), Indian Journal of Post-colonial Literatures (Kerala), Kritya (online) and Prosopisia (Ajmer). Some of his shorts have been anthologized in national and international collections. Besides that, he is a freelance journalist in English. His areas of strength are Marxism, Literary Theory and Cultural Studies. His book on the Philosophy of the Novel—a Marxist Critique is already published and got a good response. His debut novel—The Minotaur—dealing with dominant ideologies and sociopolitical realities of the 20th century was also recently published from Jaipur

Five poems on love and peace


Love is---

Holding hands

Against the barbed wires

Separating two nations,

And proving the superiority

Of two beating human hearts

Against all the heavy odds,

As effective as the simple gesture of the

Frail guy,

Stopping rolling tank

In the Tiananmen Square.

It is---

Crossing the

No man’s Land,

Chasing the demure white doves

Soaring above the

Spiked wires on long high walls,

Dividing contiguous lands


To stop folks meeting


The coy doves

Flying in the free

Blue empyrean heights,

Mocking the mental

And physical barriers,


Write peace boldly

Across God’s

Azure tranquil skies.


A shy lass sends a message

Across the bitter borders

Erected by vested interests,

Clinging to power,

Through the rhetoric of hatred,

And gets the e-mail on the internet.

The couple meets at the respective borders,

Defying stern police on sides both,

But tender love triumphs,

And the young couple is allowed to meet

By both sides of the divide,

In the presence of cheering global media.

Two ordinary hearts have beaten

The political machinery,

Through a simple but universal



When folks like you and I

Decide to shed apathy

Of middle-class and elect to be

Pro-active and change agents

By holding banners that talk love, not war,

Offer red roses,

Release balloons and pigeons,

Extend warm hands across the bitter borders,

The walls of hatred mutual dissolve,

Suspicions and trust-deficit evaporates fast,

And common humanity is recognized

That makes us all---

The children of one kind God.


If nothing works,

Says Bhulle- Shah, the famous bard,

Compose lines of poetry,

Talk *shayari,*

Create lines simple but  powerful,


That burns hatreds

Darkness of soul,

Brings spring there


Moving the frozen hearts.


Proclaims the bard,

Dismantles all the false borders mental,

And irrigates parched hearts,


In the Word holy

Of the well-meaning mystic or the

All-seeing mad poet,


The holiest of them all---

Whom I prefer to dub

My *Rabba*

And who happens to be your silent God.

An author of several books , about two dozen in each English and Hindi.PCKPrem [ PC Katoch] was born in 1945 at Malkher Garh , Palampur, Kangra, Himachal Pradesh.He post-graduated in English literature from Punjab University , Chandigarh in 1970 , taught English in Various colleges of Punjab and Himachal  before shifting to civil services and then served as Member ,HP Public Service Commission `As an Author a mirror to life  and in the process , to unravel the mystery of existence.. His famous poetry collections in English are `` Among the Shadows [1989], Enigmas of an Identity [1990], The Bemuda Triangles[1996], Oracles of the Last Decade [1998] and Rainbow at Sixty[ 2008] His famous novels are ``A Heart for the Man [2002], Not , Their Lives [2003] Shadows at Dawn [1990] is his famous  short story collection .At present he is residing at Palampur ,Himachal Pradesh.after retirement.

1. SLUM                     
Setting seems fairly awkward
in finesse
if man exists with the rock
and gray water
else confronts forebodings;
and extinction
in jungle of dense cactus 
virtual continuity in time
it exhorts when one avoids facing
facts of death
of even a desert in a cloudy sky.

This age is quite thorny             
to flit with words and senses
fictitious and covertly wretched
in earthly time of anxiety. 
A tale in a metro slum widened
woven about in skeletons
sunken eyes and tattered bodies
leafless carcass
icons black and memoirs
native tribes shooting lethal arrows
in barbaric revelries
cannibals shout
as bloody teeth protrude
to disturb forced violence
where bids leak
ooze blood on a silent
          2. GURU                     
Odd to stalk forlorn
in darkness of a black hole
and perforated shadows of deodars
while pines with flying saucers
manipulate masks fearsome
and cool breeze drizzle
poetry musical it is said
in fogs of messy streets
where sluts crow
in winters’ chilly hush, rhythmic
verse pouring in
in abundance on bosoms
before the weeping tot
when one meanders without meaning
absurdity in murky walks
for Guru genuine it was. 
               3.  ROCK GARDEN              
I find in down townie mud
sunshine hazy, hot and perspiring
church dreams of nuns naked
among the scrawny graves
ancient wild vegetation plenty
none visits a place haunted
by godheads
and ghosts in winged palanquin
roar and lay down around
howling sun emits no light.  
Disdain on lips
and burying infamy
on gravel walks
waiting in turn saturated
for specters crowd
the wounded pools
as children play ghosts. 
God Agni no more
conveys good or evil
that leaks out between
men and gods. 
A brother of Indra is callous
Agni refuses to carry the deities
to the sacrifice
or souls of dead
to paradise
gods break laws, mortals laugh.  
A myth baffles
ascetic burial ghastly
and raptures in death
life hangs about
in uncertainty
still headstones suffer
for a tribute as no word is inscribed
stability and crony obstacles
tainted for life’s enzootic end
booming sacrilege
and perfidy foresee
original birth and sin
in wombs of barren women
on a grimy rocky garden. 
          4.  SPLIT ROADS          

Mushy roads
grubby paths open up
shingles clatter
as unholy feet touch
ensuing voices assault
prayers while bells ring.
Air spins songs
splits in chirrups disturb
whisks joy as weirdness
engulfs sanctity
tong-like fingers
and deformed bodies
life in a deserted chill
I revisit. 
Black road, burning coal
in potholes devour
spread over to the mountain
wide and high for long past
the sun is trapped in a web
of life in inferno
in a grave besieged. 
Gaze at wrinkled pink gown
with contempt
on window-panes
of anti-tremor houses
eyes tear-jerking
swollen and paining
frozen on corners waiting
to roll down in arctic dry
it sits on sand and dust
with water man is made of
in a period
of ration cards and tenders. 
         5   BROKEN CHOIR    
Indistinctly alluring
sojourn to the alien past
he tells I must listen
and sit back
stand still and ogle
in confusion at dark
and near divinity 
call it future never identified
in an age of anonymity
men are averse
to take birth
in times of explosions. 
In an age caring little
for deaths in manholes
blasts and gun powder
driven to the unknown
alter for killing
long back in Vedic age
sacrifice a ritual so is now
blessed with life
and to die for existence
tainting lands and oceans. 
No one remembers Shunah-Shepa
still each understands
strange negation
in watery mirage
you kill and still
you don’t accept
world lives in reversal 
by apparent sacrificial deaths
so survives for long. 
Certain death knocks
babas, witches and scientists
in labs dark and ghostly
occupied in yogic sex
and ethics born in eely legs
social engineers frame  
a new theology
hopes existing not
colliding planets
and meteoric  obscure
dusky and unseen
tsunami stands lofty
a song of ‘shine man’
broken choir for sixty years
now just a tune ‘jay ho’
bewailed he knows not
if I hear and understand
it digs out
an old black hole in an echo. 
I have a long path
sacred purity lacking 
with no end
no fixed target
in a period of forecast
that fails each time.   
cryptograms are lost
and I am plainly stumped
break head
and cut arms
disfigured fall on the junction
stuck unsung.

1 comment:

  1. Good work Dr. Ram Sharma and your team......
    keep it up
    Dr.chetan Trivedi