Fragrance issue 4

Fragrance Vol 1

Issue 4 &

Volume 2

Issue 1

Š Ira Joel Haber

Managing Editor/Founder: Waseem A Malla, Beerwah J&K Editorial Staff: 1. Ms Shalini Samuel, Kanya Kumari, TN 2. Dr Sunil Misra, New Delhi

Editors’ Message .............................................................. 3 A Dreamy Cottage ............................................................ 5 A Home Built Moving Onward To A New Home To Be Build ......................................................................................... 7 Sun vs Moon ..................................................................... 9 A Memory In Time .......................................................... 10 A Simple Family Abode ................................................... 11 An Untold Story .............................................................. 12 Around the Round Oak Table .......................................... 13 Distant Memory :Ricordo Lontano ................................. 15 Metamorphosis .............................................................. 16 God's Whisper ................................................................ 17 Dream House.................................................................. 18 Highrise Dweller ............................................................. 20 Dream ............................................................................ 22 Invasive .......................................................................... 23 My Dream World ............................................................ 24 Hands ............................................................................. 25 Tsunami of Night ............................................................ 26 On the F Train ................................................................. 27 Smoke ............................................................................ 28 La Vita Sommersa - The Submerged Life ......................... 29 Undress .......................................................................... 31

Editors’ Message It is my immense pleasure to present you this issue of eMagazine ‘Fragrance’, poems combined from the submission calls of our 4th & 5th issues which we could not bring out as separate due to some technical hiccups on our part.

You would be glad to know that Fragrance has completed one year of successful publication and I, as the Managing Editor, would like to thank my team of editors, Ms Shalini Samuel and Dr Sunil Misra for all their efforts and for investing their time and resources in this venture.

Our thanks are due to our contributors, for their regular poetry and photographic submissions, which have kept us going all along the way. Without your love, support and trust, Fragrance would have just been an unrealised dream, gathering dust in some unknown corner of my mind. Thus, it’s just you who deserve the credit for all the progress we have witnessed in the past one year.

Lastly, I dedicate this issue to all our readers who have been following us on our blog. We are anxiously waiting for your valuable feedback on this issue. Moreover, stay tuned as we are bringing out a full volume of all the

poems published in our eMagazine ‘Fragrance’, Issues 1 to 5.

Thanks again to every reader and contributor. We hope you will extend your love and support to us as you have been doing all along the past days, since the inception of this eMagazine.

Regards Waseem A Malla Managing Editor Fragrance poetry e-zine

A Dreamy Cottage

By Praveen Gola

Over the Mountains, A Snowy smoky wintry weather, Looks like Heaven.

Under the caves, Birds are chirping chitter-chatter, sounds like Patter.

Down the hills, Green lush trees hugging others, like newly lovers.

Sun is shining, behind the dark grey clouds, passing light sunbeam.

Fruits and flowers, enlightened with shiny silvery ray, just romantically play.

A small cottage, inside the lush green garden, made of bamboos.

Snowy covered roof, warmth the room with Grate,

with scented fragrance.

Twinkling of bells, Praying God in deeply thoughts, A dreamy cottage.

Š Ira Joel Haber

A Home Built Moving Onward To A New Home To Be Build

By Roy Mark Corrales

Being born to a humble abode where familial love is garnered; the pursuit in development of his or her own being enriched.

Parental and supporting relatives cherished in making things realized.

The babe becomes a toddler into a young adolescence into adulthood reached.

The conflicting problems and everlasting triumphs unveil; The nourishment of body and spirit is further enhanced to reveal the path of trial and error till reasonable perfection is unearth; in furthering spirit makes its collective movement to reach.

The building of peaceful and admirable familial home resound; The echo of yesteryear child now a builder of new family resonate.

the fulfilment of the grandparents in bringing up their children now as adult relive; in order to bring home a bacon of tomorrow rooted in heart of peaceful abode rekindle.

Sun vs Moon

By Koyel Mitra

The fire ball shines brilliantly, An aura of scintillating radiance permeates.

It's robust shine glares at me.

I do refute its superciliousness, The domineering attitude invokes hatred.

I cherish the night star gleaming, With a splendid smile it gazes at me.

Playind hide and seek with the flocculent clouds, It waves at me amiably and heartily.

Its lovely, inviting face laughs at me merrily, Thus soothing and appeasing my frayed nerves.

I wake up every morning with dreamy eyes That burn brightly to ashes, Only to rekindle my fancies in the still repose.

A Memory In Time

By Cristy Upshaw

The moonlight shines within my window, Leaving traces of the night's silhouette, The slight breeze whispering through my mind, As I lie here alone in this scented room, Thoughts of you drift to and fro, As the day's events unfold within, My heart races with the smile on your face, As I touch my lips with my two fingers, Feeling the traces you left behind, Of the moment we got lost in time, A cherished moment to never forget, A love that, which now is only a memory, I could never take back the words I said, Nor would I even if I could, For you hold the key to the chamber of my heart, Knowing full well you can come and go as you please, Time possesses the love that we share, For it's the only thing that can tell, When we'll be together once again, To be lost in each other's realm of longing desires.

A Simple Family Abode

By Roy Mark Corrales

Having an abode where harmony, peace and prosperity embraced this home.

Today simplicity is indeed a clichĂŠ what is essentially necessary versus the luxury of things what modernity demands in any home today.

Accessibility in every part and parcel in making meal to be delightful and wonderful for every family home; members of the family share in every ups and downs in every aspect of everyone’s life.

Responsibility and Respect for all persons and other things as it is created for goodness and prosperity assimilate in every counter from pantry to the room which every person is respected for his or her contribution in the family home.

Dialogue, rapport and shared responsibility prevail in all aspect in this humble abode. A simple humble respectable, ample rapport in dialogue levels where problems are solved in a well discussed and decided for good of entire family abode.

An Untold Story

By Simran Kaur

Diffusing ethereal radiance of serene The vastness of azure heaven to preen An inspiring profusion in air of cryptic In air of Cryptic?

An untold story it sustains along That seems perpetual and prolong Hidden in smoke in mist an untold story Perhaps, the life's abstract fact Assumptions are they who lead to its tract Where many stories began each day Of our egotism, arrogance and useless fray A desire to be supreme when kindles Drifts you back in an obscure brindle An oblivious assumption against the mightiest power Known for the destruction and massacre The mightiest of all the might; the Time With its very reign every story prime turns inconsequential and an untold crime.

Around the Round Oak Table

By Joan Leotta

Around the round oak table Revolves our nightly show.

No matter how fast the daily grind Over dinner, we take it slow.

No masks at this venue.

Entertainment for all.

Set the table, Pour the water, Serve the food, Pray!

Let’s Eat! Curtain’s up! Dinnertime!

Equal billing to food and talk Freely passed round the table Pasta, salad, meat fill plates as we dish the day’s events, hopes, highs, lows. a cacophony of topics-Simpsons… Buffy…

Death penalty… test scores…

George Washington and golf!

When plates are empty, hearts are full.

Long after the sweetness of dessert is a memory, Words continue to be served up in hearty portions In Elliot’s rooms “the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo” Around the round oak table, love is spoken—loudly, and by all.

Distant Memory :Ricordo Lontano

By Terrence Sykes

Sometimes on late autumn evenings in the damp early enveloping darkness plane engines break the sky crashing waves of interstate roar trains cry on distant tracks bringing a cargo of memories taken back to that little Italian village we made love while it rained all afternoon fragrance of quince drifts even now through an open window from the grove

Metamorphosis

By Koyel Mitra

Exhuming myself from the remains of my past, I find nothing but depression crushing my heart and piercing my soul.

Like a ghoulish dream passed those gloomy days -an avalanche of sorrow, making tears roll down my cheeks, drowning my battered soul.

An unbearable emptiness in my heart, I groped for a ray of light in my lonely melancholy.

Then a sudden aura of cognizance surrounded me as I read through the book "Kathamrita", enlightening my mind.

I was startled at the transformation of my soul that turned a new leaf, making me sprightly and cheerful.

Now, armed with true knowledge, and spiritually purified, I fail to recognize my once dismal self.

God's Whisper

By Cristy Upshaw

Surrounded by the night a shimmer of light revivified a gasp of midair—respires the manifestation of purity Lamenting for God’s whisper that brushes the tears—effortlessly from the indulgent cheeks of an isolated, angelic ambiance Blanketing the heart's core In the epicentre of a misplaced soul the warming of divine incidence encasing life—with HIS immense love

Dream House

By Tribhawan Kaul

Dream house, dream house Housing my home, Where Narrow lanes lead to wider roads Chinaar and poplar in frontal rows beckon me just to roam.

Blowing of conch shells waking up with temple bells morning azaan also soothing the souls.

Casting spell, a chirruping sparrow leaves follow breeze across window majestic view of majestic dome.

Lovely children playing with granny story telling becomes so much funny carved balcony is left to adore.

Basking under rising sun warmth of heart spread to every one relations of ours never sour.

Cacophony of celebrations, fascinating

hallmark of jubilations, reverberating. gupp Bacch/Bhand* & Henze# galore River flowing down the bridge breathtaking view over the ridge music to ears with shikaras** abound The house of my dreams Evolving in thoughts If wishes be horses Could have ridden by now Fate ordained it to remain a dream But dream I must For impetus it gives and the thrust To pursue.

Dream house, dream house housing my home, where narrow lanes lead to wider roads chinaar and poplar in frontal rows beckon me just to roam.

Š Tribhawan Kaul

Highrise Dweller

By Tribhawan Kaul

Mornings and evenings witness commoners of different hues caste, creed, colour & age jog, walk, yoga or meditate groups of female folks assert also with warlike maneuvers learning the tricks of karate & judo and the joggers’ park shines in the form of oasis amidst the concrete desert.

Giving eyes a treat, towering residents wowing the architectural marvels around but devoid of health concerns keeping their windows open simply to crane and watch the images of dwarfed movers below pondering upon advice of health gurus yet thinking it a total waste being on high pedestal, boasting ‘they aren’t missing anything?’

Introspection brings them down to feel and experience the smell of freshness the chirping and tweets

the sound of breeze the rush of blood the rustle of leaves the peace of mind the romance with nature of different kind new awakening dawns.

Surrounded by faceless concrete high-rise the lush green park rejoices watching homo-sapiens respecting its existence for their own existence.

Š Tribhawan Kaul

Dream

By Ndaba Sibanda

I dream of a better village That will not fall victim To abject poverty again Because leaders could Not care less I dream of a better city That will overcome the ills Of unemployment and corruption A city whose resources will not Be looted and vandalized by outsiders Because of politics of prejudice and malice Please let there be lights again in that royal city l dream of a country whose name will never be The Ruins A country whose all citizens will be treated with respect and love

Invasive

By Cristy Upshaw

Faceless reality percolating Through the cracks of futility Waves of triviality—eternally carpets the sorrow of what existed

Traipsing paths collide aimlessly weaving a soul's—icy breath Sunbeam derives tardily exposing truth's web of lies

Weeds of past events—treads upon the shadows of blossoms Forming doubt of primed growth in a once flawless garden

My Dream World

By Koyel Mitra

I miss now the coos of the doves perching on olive branches, Happiness has eluded me but I am chasing it like a mirage, Oh where are the soft chirpings of the birds at dawn?

Have they been effaced out in this chaotic world, a world of commotion?

Oh do I see blood there is that my hallucination?

No, it is not, I see mutilated bodies soaked in blood everywhere.

Did I ever hear the word called humanity?

How can human beings murder their brothers without hesitation?

Is there no mercy, sympathy or compassion in this world?

Don’t their hands tremble or hearts palpitate while committing such crimes?

Where has love vanished? Does it exist only in gratification of carnal pleasures?

I truly seek the evergreen love and celestial bliss in my dream world.

Hands

By Steve Klepetar

He came to her with hands of rain, translucent offer glittering in noonday sun. Head bowed he came, hair scraping his forehead, eyes dim with the pleasure of her windy face.

Her hands flutter aimless as swans who feel a restless wind’s cool beckoning.

She shows him her heels, plows fingers through the air, swimmer reaching out for some far shore, where sea maids cry raw-throated songs and gulls plunge along the fiery edge of fallen light.

Tsunami of Night

By Steve Klepetar

Birds were silent and disappeared.

All morning darkness gathered, rolled in clouds like knuckled fists. Leafing trees shuddered into blackness, window lights blinked on and children cried for bottles and clamored for sleep.

Outside a blanket on the world, plague of physical dark, substance viscous and gloomy, mist or fog – distilled obscurity, cheerless and sad.

Concealment as the heavy breathe in our lungs, hidden and unknown.

Sirens wailed, smoke and ash in the backwoods.

Has it come to this, a tsunami of night?

Where Is your radiant hand, your brilliant necklace of lights? What has extinguished your blazing eye?

On the F Train

By Steve Klepetar

Acrobat’s vain leap across the aisle of this crowded train.

Pitch and roll, a rudder broken loose and a rough mutt howling in flurrying snow, Lexington and Fifty-ninth street three days before wild grapes flush with wine: an image of a man on his knees, dice knocking against brick, and black spots swirling from the cup, leaping bludgeoned with awe into the frozen world.

Smoke

By Shruti Goswami

The deep throated kiss, Tasted of half burnt cigarette, And some smoky feeling, Just like old days, When the smell of half burnt coal, Smelt delicious to the nose, Harbinger of good food, Now just some distant dream.

I buried myself more deep Into the kiss, Immersed in a sensuous flow, The world of smoke and cream.

La Vita Sommersa - The Submerged Life

By Terrence Sykes

un piccolo grande amore that’s all it was suppose to be a summer love a mere vacation fling old enough to know better young enough not to care that little pensione with paper thin walls coming so far to settle or resurrect a score of years ago kneeling in this little chiesa on no tourist map praying while his memory preys upon me searching scouring my soul until the soles

of my feet ache evening arises as once again my heart submerges into the venetian lagoon

Lost In Another Country by Terrence Sykes

Undress

By Shruti Goswami

Everyday, you undress me, In your thoughts, My traditional mind, Bordering on conservative; Detested, protested; Yet surprisingly; never resisted.

And now, Everyday, I undress me, In my thoughts, For your thoughts, And undress those thoughts, Traditional, to be or not to be, Bordering on insanity.

Fractured by Terrence Sykes