Fragrance Vol1 Merged

Fragrance

Volume 1

Combined Issue

Presented By:

1. Mr. Waseem A Malla

2. Ms. Shalini Samuel

3. Dr. Sunil Misra

Fragrance Vol 1 Issue 1 Online Literary Magazine

Mar 2013

FRAGRANCE- ISSUE 1 Mar 2013 FRAGRANCE

Volume : 1 Issue : 1 Jan-Mar 2013

Founder: Waseem A Malla

Editor: Shalini Samuel


Mar 2013

Visit:

http://efragrance.weebly.com/


Mar 2013

Editors Note

Dear Readers,

Fragrance, has bloomed into reality, to give everyone an equal opportunity

to showcase their poetic talents to the world. Fragrance gives youngsters,

opportunity to exhibit their skill. We have taken care that readers will get the

maximum pleasure in reading these wonderful poems.

The poem Shake The Dust by Dexter Sam touched my heart the most. This

Issue mainly focuses on young poets. Their modern way of writing and

modern thoughts is put before you. It has some wonderful poems from

senior poets like Tribhawan Kaul.

The magazine is organized wonderfully, with details about the authors along

with their poems. We place this colorful, poetry magazine in your hands.

Read at your leisure. Drop your feedbacks and suggestions at

[email protected]

Visit our website: http://efragrance.weebly.com/

With the hope, Fragrance the quarterly poetry magazine would steal your

hearts.

Regards

Shalini Samuel

Editor,

Fragrance EMagazine


Mar 2013

Shalini Samuel was born in

Kanyakumari, southern tip of India.

After completing her schooling

(2002) from St.Teresas MHSS, Kanyakumari, she graduated in

Information Technology (2006) and

took her Masters in Computer Science from Noorul Islam College

of Engineering (2008) ,

Kanyakumari.

She has been writing poems from

her school days. Her poetic pursuits

took a pause during her college

years. After completing her studies,

she started blogging as a hobby and

slowly turned her concentration on

poetry. She says she is creeping on the walls of Muse India with a hope

there will be a bloom one day.

Shalini Samuel


Mar 2013

First Trust

Years ago, on this day

I made my noisy entry,

Into this beautiful earth,

As part of human race

With a cheerful pure soul

Greetings from everyone;

Happiness in their speech;

I could hear their words

But not clever to understand

Fearing to open my eyes,

Fearing to trust anyone,

I cried, others laughed

Worn out, I snoozed

Moved by mothers nurture

Eagerly opened my eyes

To glimpse my guardian angel,

First human I trusted


Mar 2013

A poet from Kashmir, India.

He had made attempts with

different genres of poetry, in English,

Urdu and Kashmiri. His poetry is

generally romantic in nature with

thrust on mystical and philosophical

elements. His poetry has been highly

influenced by the contemporary

Urdu poetry and this thing can be

well established while reading most

of his poems. He is influenced by

Maulana Jalal-ud-Din Rumi, Ahmad

Faraaz, Parveen Shakir and Faiz

Ahmad Faiz. Waseem says Though

I can never touch their stature, I try

to write as they used to.

Waseem A Malla


Mar 2013

Rise: As One

Rise, O Ye!

Ye: The children of Adam,

Rise to fall never again,

Rise from every fall you have,

Rise as the sun does in the morn,

Rise as the moon illuminates the night,

Rise, and rise hard:

Rise as the waves in the sea,

After every trough: with their heads up,

In the ocean of eternal love.

Rise, O Ye!

Ye, the dwellers of the earth,

Rise with all the might you have,

Rise to the heights of sky,

For the heavens have the rewards:

The moon- so bright there,

The stars- so numerous in count,

Rise as the moon does from the clouds,

All of them so grey and dark,

Everytime they hide its face.

Rise, O Ye!

Ye, the one who falls, again,

Ye, rise as the wind on the land,

Rise as the thorns blossom in sand,

Rise after every fall you have,

For falling down isn't a sin,

Rising not again is, so rise!

Rise with bodies and souls mingled,

Rise, and rise to live,

Rise, but rise as One...! ! !


Mar 2013

Dexter Sam finished an engineering degree but got bored with

it, and decided to teach in schools instead. He enjoys reading,

writing, eating, sleeping, wandering around the city and

listening to poetry. This piece was written on 1st January as a

response to the recent Delhi Gangrape incident.

Dexter Sam


Mar 2013

Shake The Dust, India

I picked up the newspaper

A Young Woman dies, A Nation Mourns Rest in Peace, they said

Cos we will Not. I dropped it in disgust

I cant take any more It overwhelms me

And scrambles my brains

Today I wont have clever editorials and opinion pieces

Or the explanations of experts in fancy designs of words

Today I wont stand crocodile tears and empty promises I will let the bitter taste remain

Today I will not drown her voice in

mindless partying

Or even be the man of whom everybody says theek hai Today I will not mourn her loss or seek for closure

I will only let the bitter taste remain

There is a place in our hearts

Where news broadcasts and research studies cant go Assurances of national leaders dont reach there

And the best government in the world will still leave untouched.

There is no promise of safety

There is no sure salvation

There is no hope of glory

Yet. But there will be.

See, like the dust gathering on books

stacked in library shelves

Dulling and deflating the fresh life of ideas within

Cynicism cakes itself on the human heart terrorized by tragedy

But today, lets shake the dust It might be the

Coldest day of the season

But there is a reason

Why winter always ends

The Sun always comes out


Mar 2013

Elvira is a Fun-loving person,

Avid Bollywood fan, Blog-Writer and

dedicated towards cause for

thalassemia. Born in Mumbai,

having an MBA finance degree, she

is currently working in a corporate

bank. She is a keen enthusiast and

loves to play the guitar, dance,

reading books, making innovative

handicrafts etc. As she quotes,

"Writing poems has been my

passion since young and now have a

blog "Its My Life" to emote my

feelings and thoughts with friends-

Poems on love, life, relations,

abstracts, nature etc". A budding

poet, Elvira has her works(25

poems) published both at the

national and international level in

different anthologies.

Elvira Lobo


Mar 2013

In Your Arms

In your arms I lay for a while,

so soothing to see your gentle smile.

I wish I could be forever this way,

holding you close all day.

I am really in awe of enigma you possess,

your mysterious love seems so endless.

Charming , Exciting and Melting

hearts deeply in love uniting.

In your arms, I'm comforted by your care,

your fingers slowly running through my hair.

Your heart beat is in sync with mine,

every breath together brings me closer to thine.

I am enjoying your choicest attention you maintain,

little blushes makes my blood freeze in my veins.

How Toxic, Maddening and Enchanting is your love that's so pure,

In your arms,I lay passionately in love feeling so secure.


Mar 2013

Asif Andalib was born on 27

November in 1967 at Moez Monzil,

Komlapur, Faridpur of Bangladesh.

He writes poems and lyrics both in

English and Bengali. He was

literature editor of a cultural

organization Oniketh. Later he served as its general secretary. He

was ranked one of the top 500

poets of PoemHunter.com many

times. Moreover one of his poem

has been published in The Top 100

Poems of 2012 the years most awaited worlds poetry anthology. Poetry Press Publishing Group of

Songwriting Opportunities, USA has

published the book.

Asif Andalib


Mar 2013

Theres someone made for me

Theres someone made for me I feel it from my bone

I know you are out there

So call me over phone

And make an appointment

I am still home alone

Understand my feelings

Dont let me sob and groan You are my reality

And imagination

Show your face like the sun

In my lifes horizon

Waiting for you too long

Has made me like a stone

This song is like a bird

Baby it has now flown

With musics tender wings To the known and unknown


Mar 2013

Born on 10th May, 1994, Arirta Mukherjee is the eldest

son of Mr. Mrs. Sudipta Mukherjee. Writing from the little

cosmopolitan town of Liluah, ituated near Howrah, the

aspiring poet is presently pursuing his graduation in

English from Scottish Church College, Kolkata.

Aritra Mukherjee


Mar 2013

Ghosts

Haunted by a thousand voices,

Do you grope in the darkness?

Do you escape?

Or return?

Or escape to return?

Laughter contemptuous

Smile amorphous

Sobbing continuous

Nails scratching concrete,

Dragged with a sour

Teeth-roughening grind

A million vicious legs

Of an insect hideous,

Scuttle along the

Walls and floor

Of your blind

Cranial room

Rustle sickening.

Cribbed by breathless fear,

Do you intend to be lost?

Or found?

Or lost to be found? Digging your nails

Deep into your chest,

Do you tear yourself asunder?

Bloody clumps of muscles,

Pieces of lungs,

Throbbing mutilated heart...

Did you exorcise the ghosts?

Smothering an ageless scream

With the groan of a wounded animal?


Mar 2013

Tribhawan Kaul was born on 01-01-1946

in J&K State. His first book Nanhe Muno Ke Rupak was published at the age of 13 years. Having keen interest in writing poetry and short-

stories, he took to serious writing in both English

and Hindi after his retirement. His published

works in hindi include besides, Nanhe Munno Ke Rupak( a book for children), two anthologies of hindi poems, Sab Rang (2010) and Mann Ki Tarang (2012). His English poems are appreciated both by foreign and Indian poets

on various poetic sites and have been selected for

publication in various books/anthologies viz How

to prevent rape & molestation (book), Inklinks,

Bhelpuri, womens Muse etc. Publication of an anthology of his poems titled Children of Lost God is under consideration.

Tribhawan Kaul


Mar 2013

Dont Kill Me

Kill me not, Pa

poison me not, Ma

strangle me not, brother

I am one of your own

let some mercy be shown

your blood runs into my veins

let you not bind me in chains

give my wishes some space

let me live also with honour

and grace.

Desires have wings

so have mine

what if I love someone?

how is that a crime ?

made my choice

want you to hear my voice

my heart beats for him

why have I to pay the price?

Heart overrules the mind

society has never been kind

different caste, religion and state

have to write my own fate

Why torture me?

Why shatter my dreams?

Why you shame and fail your own?

You are not urbane, to me it

seems.

You blood thirsty savages

you traditional sticklers

Oh you perpetrators of heinous crime

Your preaching and actions do not rhyme.

Shame on you Goddess worshiper

Girls may refuse to take birth

Eve was created by HIM for love

HE now also thinks was it at all worth.

Kill me not Pa or poison me not Ma

strangle me not brother.


Mar 2013

Herojit Philem alias Hero was born to Philem Nanda

Singh and Philem Sarojini Chanu, on 10th Nov.1995. In

Manipur, a state in North Eastern India. He started writing

poetry from the age of 14 been inspired by loneliness. At

present he writes in The Sangai Express, a daily paper in

Manipur

Herojit Philem


Mar 2013

Two Roads to Home

There are two roads

For me to go home

One is narrow and lengthy

With many pits and khuds

Chances of falling is high.

On this path,

I'll suffer much pains.

Every pain will give me courage

To walk, to go ahead.

Even though I fall

I can stand and walk

With respect.

For, it takes me

To front door of my house

Where my family waits

With smiles.

The other route

Is wide and short

Flowers of pleasure blossom

On either sides

Enjoying the nectar,

I may walk

But, if I slip

I can never stand and talk.

Because, it enters the wide door

Where my father waits

With anger to lecture.

Oops! Two roads to go home

I have to decide

On which I must go-

Whether to see my family happy

Or listen my father's lecture.


Mar 2013

Rosemary (ruth) Daguio is just 20. Still in

college. She had started to write since she was in

elementary. She is very emotional...that's what they

see (and it's true ) .She is proud to be a DAGUIO, and

even more proud about her grandfather, Amador T.

Daguio, who was the famous writer, The Wedding

dance.

Rosemary

Daugio


Mar 2013

My Amnesia Girl

the past... the memories.. all gone

with the blink of her eyes.. I can see nothing but darkness...

darkness.. it's all there..

why.. how could it be..

everything that has been built..

framed with laughter and tears..

they.. all disappeared..

too hard...too hard to bear..

so many days.. years that's been together..

warmth on my arms..

it's gone..

now...just an innocent love whose trying to put things together..

hoping for any strings..

images of the past...

that has been blurred.. faded.. and buried itself.. deeper than the deepest ocean..

and I...nothing but an old friend.. that's what it should be..

don't try to meddle..

just passed through the hurdle..

and see what's next..

I have no choice but to let it be..

time should come.. it will..

on any other way.. these would be all right...


Mar 2013

The poet is currently working as a Scientist in a

government organization at Bangalore. He has been

penning down poems both in English and Hindi

since his college days. A few of his english poems have

been published in recently launched national poetry

anthology Inklinks alongside some literary revered

names. He soon aspires to bring out his hindi poetry

collection (along with his friends) and to write an

adventure fiction novel in the coming time. He is

reachable at hi FB fanpage -->

https://www.facebook.com/VPS.hitaishi

Vikas Pratap

Singh


Mar 2013

Lady of My Dreams

Blissful face, and eyes dreamy

blessed nature, tresses dispersed

a single view of yours for me

is a vista of whole universe

Gracious grin and divine smile

charming tone of seductive voice

your walk stretches heaven's guile

not-being-in-your-awe ain't a choice

In your shadow, my spirit gleams

takes over me an aura smothered

if you ain't here, lady of my dreams!

living a lie, I don't bother

Your existence solely in thoughts even

maketh my day glimmer;

to meet you on earth or in heaven

awaiting that moment for ever

-Vikas Pratap Singh


Mar 2013

Dar Mudasir Rahman from Kashmir, India

Dar Mudasir

Rahman


Mar 2013

Loss

Loss- it seems is the worst kind of sorrow

Loss of dreams, the dreams of tomorrow

Loss of the moments you two should have shared

Loss of opportunities to show her you cared

Loss of the memories you both could have created

Loss of the romance once intense as you dated

Loss of a kiss, caress, or embrace

Loss of that special feeling no one else can replace

Loss of a look, the twinkle in her eye

Loss of the touch as you pass each other by

Loss of a future, from a past of regret

Loss of a last chance, how many do you get

Loss of a promise you never meant to break

Loss of two hearts that forever will ache


Mar 2013

Anuj Tikku is a bollywood actor and also a poet

Anuj Tikku


Mar 2013

Hope When all is lost there is still hope

Hope that things lost can be taken

Deeds done can be forsaken

The hope that all is not gone in vain

There is still a lot to gain

Lost gain to be won back

As I wander into a new track

Hope the deed Solitude,

maturity and many songs for me toss of today

Will pay me returns some other day

Hope for a quite dawn

Like the flight of the white swan

Hope that I would reach into my inner core

ask for creativity, forgiveness, love, trust and much more

Hope to hear my true voice soon

And launch me up towards the moon

To take me up to wonderland

Where I can play my merry band

Hope that that change will bring


Mar 2013

Eric Shelman, was a hater of all forms of poetry until he

met one of his first literary masters named Philip

Mcdonald while serving in the U.S. A. Navy and who

thoroughly convinced him to change his ways. So he

began writing forms such as acrostics, double acrostics,

and many others.

Eric Shelman


Mar 2013

The Sun

Mourning-raises and evening-out Set

Exploding and uniting vapors are my everlasting fodder

Orientating the sphere of existence around me

Golden locks beard my youthful face

Stolen I am, but gained, lost, and redistributed throughout the

cycle

A vital ingredient for games of production, reproduction, and

sustenance am I

A creator for, a destroyer of and a sustainer-of-all, am I

My kisses are randomly discharged into the vastness

Infinite amounts of livelihood is what offers I


Mar 2013

She's an author, poet and a minister of the gospel of

Christ. She's born again and Holy Spirit filled. The first

born child of her parent, she's a nigerian from delta state.

An urhobo by tribe.

Sakpere Light


Mar 2013

The Passion of Christ

Bread to break

Cup to take

Jesus wants us

To keep His memory alive

Thus, As we break the bread

And take the Cup

We affectionately

Relive the Passion of the Christ!


Mar 2013

Born in Wisconsin, David Tuttle spent most of his

adolescence moving around east Texas. In high school

his parents moved away

David Tuttle


Mar 2013

Detritus

you held my head in your hands

like a burnt book

picking out whatever phrases

and disconnected lines

you could, from the blackness

you held me close

like the ash of a burnt home

our breaths began to rhyme

and eventually

you breathed me in

I watched, quiet, like smoke when you were sleeping

I held on to you

clogged your lungs with all my strength

and you became so full of me

laid my name out on your coarsened tongue

and I bathed in you like sunlight

the words stopped meaning anything

it was just noise, clicking, penlines

and

You held my head in your hands

like a burnt book.


Mar 2013

Melody Pierson is a songwriter, poet, musician and a

student of literature, fine arts and metal-smithing.

She has worked extensively in the area of media in front

and in back of the microphone as host, news caster,

researcher, and news editor.

Her first of love, songwriter, has won her numerous

award, including the Canadian Genie for Best Song for a

Film. "Les Plouffes" co-written with Stephanne Venne.

Her music collaborations feature artists such as Award

Winning Clair Marlo, Leslie Pearl and is known as the

"song doctor" on the West Coast.

Melody Pierson


Mar 2013

The aroma comes first.

A wave of an indeterminable smell

lures you

Bringing you in, to the gaze

of his eyes

The smell of his neck under the sun

is with him

seemingly only for your pleasure.

Each step brings you closer

To him

Your breath is his desire

He defies your senses

And looks into you

The need to blend

Inhale

Deeper this one time,

it is a scent only

meant for you.

and him,

Should you come apart.


Mar 2013

Chicory Poetry grew up in the isolated coal mining

mountains of Virginia and began writing poetry & short

stories at the age of nine

The evolution of the iPhone camera allows Chicory to

merge captured images to give further strength to his

creations

Previous publishing venues include .. Casa Italian .. The

Connection ... Unity Magazine

Remembrance - whether real or imagined ... is a

reoccurring theme in his poetry

Chicory Poetry


Mar 2013

Another Country

Do you know the difference

Or

Is there a difference

Between raging desperation

And

The mere lingering fragrance of

Melancholy

This evening the drawbridge is lowered

Then

Tonight I will see you in another country


Mar 2013

S.V.Janani from Cuddalore, Tamil Nadu, India is doing UG

degree (English Literature) in Krishnasamy college of

science, arts and management for women, Cuddalore. As

a student of Literature, she loves poetries and poems.

Her passion on Literature made her to write poems.

She blogs at WWW.JANESARA.BLOGSPOT.IN.

S.V.Janani


Mar 2013

PAST,PRESENT AND FUTURE

An Angel gifts

a magical wings to me,

which takes me

to the past in present,

My past

is full of passion

and poison,

I came across

want and haunt,

I came across

flight and plight,

I came across

twist and worst,

It's namby- pamby.

I depart from past,

everything manifest

before me,

I stumble and feel

humble,

to look back my past........

In hurly-burly

present,

my blithe

mind,

wanders everywhere,

mystifies my life,

I fly with my

magical wings and

swing in sky......

to foresee my

vociferous and

victorious

future,

Almighty

take away

falsity and present

a pretty life to live

with indemnity....!!!!!!


Mar 2013

.

Prof.Ganapathy

Subramanian


Mar 2013

Portrait of a Lady

She is so slim that slimness shrugged its

Shoulders and felt shy.

She is so delicate that very delicacy

Decidedly uneasy

Took a day off defeated, defied.

She is so charming

That very charm chose to chide

Itself as Chimera

She is so subtle that subtlety itself

Submitted, surrendered.

She is so elegant that very elegance,

Edge out, enervated,

Elected to stay out of the race.

She is so intelligent that

Very intelligence

In an inebriated mood felt inept.

She is so soft-spoken that she

Stole the show over

Very softness.

She is so serene that serenity

Sedately sauntered out.

She is so sensible that

Very sensibility stood staring

She is so refined that

Very refinement relinquished

Its throne, resigned itself to rest.

She is so fair that fairness fared

Far from its Fame.

She is so fascinating that fascination

Felt finicky and forlorn.

She is so sweet that sweetness

Surreptitiously slide away.

She is so attractive that very

Attractiveness abjured its abode.

She is so beautiful that beauty

Beat a retreat, beaten

and battered.


Mar 2013

A poet and teacher,Sangnam Nam was born in

South Korea and attended Kyunghee University,

University of Northern Colorado and briefly State

University of New York at Albany. Her first poem was

written when she was 15 a long prose poem but she

didn't know she was a poet until she went to America

and had encounters with poets on the road.Her poem

was first published when she was 8 in her second-grade

year though.Sangnam Nam taught at

Rangeview High Shchool in Aurora, Colorado, Lynn

Middle School and Sunrise Elementary School in Las

Cruces,New Mexico, USA and recently at Catholic Sangji

College in Andong, South Korea

Sangnam Nam's Published Books:

Firefly (2009)

Voices for Peace (2012)

ISBN9781300391944

Translated by,

Sangnam


Mar 2013

Confession -

() () .

O what shame it is

to see my face still intact

in this rusted-green bronze mirror

What dynasty's heritage this is,

I wonder!

() . ( ()

.

Let me sum up this record of my confession

-24 years and one month of my life

for what joy have I lived?

() .

.

Tomorrow or the day after one of these days

I might have to write another line of confession...

Why did I have to write such a shameful confession

at that young age?

.

Let me wipe the mirror night after night

with my palm and sole.

() .

Then I see a lone sad figure

walking alone under a meteorite

in this mirror

< , ' (1948)

- Yun Dong-Ju (1917-1945)

Vol: 1 Issue 2 Managing Editor : Waseem A Malla Apr-Jun, 2013

Editor:Shalini Samuel

Editors Note

Dear Readers,

Cover picture by Sheri Wright

Glad to meet you again though Fragrance's second issue. The response we got for the

very first issue was great and we were overwhelmed by your mails and comments.

This issue has got more wonderful submissions from talented poets all over the world.

When we planned of a themed issue, we were not sure whether it will work out. We had

an idea of relaxing the rules as we were scared submissions would decline. But to our

astonishment our talented poets jumped into action flooding our inbox with wonderful

poems. Every poem was fantastic and we had a tough time choosing poems for our

magazine.

Every poem gave me a different picture to the word flower. You all would be very eager

to read Fragrance and I am sorry for delaying it a bit. I hope your enthusiastic and

patient wait wont go in vain.

Regards,

Shalini Samuel,

Editor in chief,

Fragrance.

SHE IS

As fresh as first grass

Is the velvet green wrap

Enclosing the bud leaves amass

Dark petal tears shiny trap

Little bud emerges out to the rays of sun

Like someone who has awaken in the morn

She blooms to the fullest in little run

Wide open like smiling eyes yet stubborn

She spreads the scent of love

Standing erect on stalk, with sepals

Drooping down and taking a bow

Who guards her rich royal petals?

To quench the thirst of her love

She remains pious holding nectar till the end

Blending her fragrance with breeze above

She waits until dusk, bids farewell taking a bend

Ends up on the grave of someones beloved

Or brightens the color of love in a lover

Or becomes a subject to a poet unloved

Her sacrifice is unrevealed still, she is a flower

-Basilia

Desires

Colours all that come with

red, rosy, white, purple and yellow

have gone to these flowers.

Should some flow of meanings

carrying spectacles of life

be spilled once over the people

who are entering darkness

black like coal

carrying with them

the sadness with faded colours,

in great haste

scorching in fret and hunger!

I have a desire to see

a transformed face

of the world.

Bhisma Upreti

Email: [email protected]

Flowers in the Hills

This year, too

Flowers blossomed in the hills.

Bukis bloomed

and rhododendrons too.

Flower-like maidens

went running to the plants

plucked blossoms to put in their hair.

Wet in the drizzle of colors,

bathed in the fragrance of petals,

they ran to the brook

and saw their own faces.

Shy of themselves

they ran away and took shelter

in the hearts of young-men.

In the hills of rocks

suffering there is harder than the rocks.

Like hopes,

if these flowers, too, were not blossoming here

how could people live

in such heights

where living is hard.

Bhisma Upreti

Email: [email protected]

Orange Day Lily

I mean, a Bright Orange Day Lily

One that encapsulates all shades of Orange

Looking like an electronic charge,

Bounding forward

You arose from a green cocoon,

Surround by darker green leaves

Your smell is an aphrodisiac, and draws me in

Taking my breath away,

I stop and stare at your outward beauty

Bees around and abound being drawn to you,

And your magnetic charm

Mother Natures calling card,

Is doing business in my back yard

I am awe struck; want to bring you in,

But cant end your life

Leaving you to garnish my yard,

I will settle on being a peeping tom

Till you dry up,

Then blow away,

In the warm summer winds!

D Everett Newell 6/17/2011

NEWBORN SPRING

A new colored blanket,

a shine on the lustrous greens.

The cuckoo is heard humming a hymn,

the cherry tree is dazzling in pink.

Young daffodils and lilies have just woken from sleep,

whats so special of this new dawn,

The wind carries a message and gives a ring,

Rejoice people, welcome the Newborn Spring!!!

Elvira Lobo.

Mumbai, India

FLOWERS

My intellect fails to uncover the truth,

How thee succeed to, thyself soothe.

When filth engulfs every realm of earth,

From where thee extracts colour of mirth.

And glow to display thy untainted grace.

You are envied by every race.

Thee born to bloom, so thee remain.

Displays thy prowess beyond thy domain.

Thy fragrance subdues every odour,

Thy bloom attracts the cloudy cover.

Out of Love, it rains, thee to embrace.

Enrich thy base, kiss thy face

Indrajit Rai

Flowering Time

When ever the world grows darker

from death, war and gloom.

Hearts must heal from all these pains

for flowers still bloom.

Music of soul must journey so far

out through clouds of dust and ages passed.

We shall walk, dance, pray, and sing,

for a hearts joy brings what will surely last.

Recesses of anger, shame, guilt and blame

shall not hide nor rule in our lives forever.

This day we shall decide for pure love

for were all in this garden together.

Celebrating our blooming essence of giving

beautiful joy everyday in life were living.

For when night shall come to fall,

we can rest in peace as we lay.

Grateful our flowering pink lotus life

is bringing us a new dawn.

Happiness sings its laughter

in our blossoms fragrant song!

Poem and Photo by: Jen Walls

10/28/12

[email protected]

A Summer Jasmine

With pearl pale glitter, and placid odored toxic tone,

I initiate fiery summers radient sprinkle.

With festive presence, and feliciting gifts flown,

I relish in my beauty twinkle.

With mangoe sweets, and childrens games of their own,

I invite bridal dreams to every eyes to replace tiresome crinkle.

With fulfilled colour and uniqueness of my own,

I envey Indian women of their accomplishedness without gloomy wrinkle.

With moonlight clarity, and flawless snowfall sown,

I preach this invered world the innocence winkle.

With short life and challenging this big world upthrown,

I live for the moment, for creating momentous mood in elevating everyday tinkle.

By Jyothsnaphanija

[email protected]

A Saffron Rose

Fallen leaves of pulchritudinous spring,

Forgotten lyrics of a classic song,

Gloomy sunshine of morning daylight,

Glittering pearls of splintery ornament,

Like your celestial dreams deliquesced in the dusky life,

Are timelessly dwindling like the snowstorm in the red-hot river.

Time with its ironbound hand has shellacked light before your eyes,

When will you see it again?

The golden cradle of selfish love,

The crimson penumbra of poisonous love,

The sepia string of scrappy love,

Have sundered your cerulean space of selfless love.

But your lovely appearance is untouched by lovelessness of pulverizing purpled

pennoned love.

Your beauty did not shell out euphoria,

Your skilled redolence did not please you,

Your plangent petals of clement soul is needed to none,

With thorns of little tussle even, you are flimsy quintessence.

In the nocturnal hush of despair,

Your whishes are not voiced.

In the breathless water down of usual febrific routine ,

You forgot to laugh.

In the uphill waves of sea of lifes hardships cycle,

You lost yourself.

Your loneliness of incessant lacuna,

Your hopelessness of solitary space,

Scattered dreams of your shattered recollection,

Still longed to be soothen, to share

With coloured eyes lingering persistently,

Remains ever loosing saffron of everlasting rose.

By Jyothsnaphanija

[email protected]

The Flower In Red

Energetic is my gait

Passionate is my style

Determined is my will

Stimulating is my profile

Intense is my desire

Fiery is my bearing

Resilient is my behaviour

Courageous is my being

I give love for love

But am dangerous too

If you bamboozle me

I can retaliate too

Red is my being

Red is my hue

With my vibrant spirits

I colour the milieu

Neelam Chandra

C-164, RDSO Officers Colony,

Manak Nagar, Lucknow-226011

Acrostic Flowers

F lowers

L ive near open doors, on the mantel piece, in designer vases but

O ften absent in unsmiling eyes from

W here quarrels emanate and curses fly

E legant carpeted floors

R un under unfriendly souls

S ans welcome smiles

F ine art work on walls

L ooks at hostile undercurrents swirling beneath the

O pulent lace

W orldly pleasures and

E vil thoughts make

R andom joys run awry

S ee the hearts flawed beyond solace!

F orlorn are the houses with lush blossoms where

L ittle joy bloom in human bosoms

O pt not for hoarded antiques nor for

W ooden tiled designer floors

E verlasting are the homes with laughter galore

R ule is a hug a day to

S ee a heart become a garden.

Reena Prasad

Destiny of Flowers

Approaching spring season

Bring ecstasy to blooms

Creating a new world

Banishing gloom

Blossoming into flowers

Sadness then overcomes

Shortened life, boon or bane

Getting plucked, time and again

Killing a living one for personal gain !

For temples to adore

For deities to proffer

For hair to beautify

For bonds to testify

None can justify

Act of fingers

Fragrance still lingers

Through the seasons

Waiting for a new beginning

And end too

Destiny of flowers.

All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul

[email protected]

Reincarnation of a flower

Offer me not in temples

worship me not with gods

pluck me not and kill

let me wither on the branch itself

fading away, wont die still.

Living in seeds

will sprout again

under the heaps

transmigrating into buds

blooming to flowers

spreading fragrance

all round and everywhere.

All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul

[email protected]

Flowers

Amazing creativity of that unknown artist!

Colour splash like a multi-dimensional artwork,

Genius brush strokes create unparalleled beauty

With indigenous shades.

Inexhaustible range of fragrance

Soothes mind, body and soul.

A womb filled with re-generating and replenishing seeds,

Opens a gateway for

Many awe-inspiring and immortal creations

Welcome to the enchanting world of FLOWERS.

- Vinita Surana ([email protected])

The Book of Chicory

Chapter 2 ...Verse 1

I remember

the wandering

meandering river

wild dandelions

(yellow as the sun)

&

bitter chicory

(blue as a sky)

grew upon its banks

time passed

&

memories

etched

into a mosaic

to remind me

so never

again will

I forget

CHICORY POETRY

Beautiful Imagination

1.

I wake up on thorns to sleep on bed of roses

Not letting me forget i live in between thorns of roses.

2.

Waft of wind whistled to open the smile of flowers

Fragrance ran out to hug waft of wind

Wind carried fragrance along to unknown land to spread love

Love was stirred to bring joy in all hearts

3.

Wind walk slowly,softly

With whistle like lullaby

As the night falls Beautiful flowers sleep soundly

It's a raat rani awake

spreading fragrance

To tempt you

Come to her to stay awake

Perhaps you may not know

In the hours of day when you come

Don't come with your confidence overly grown

Mind you! It's sun that will stop you

It is sure to impede your flirtious move

It's his daffodils, sunflowers and marigold

If you dare eye them!

Such will be the heat of envy

If once it hears you whistle

You will be burnt to ashes

Kalpana Shah

The Life With Blossoms

waterfall

I photograph its mist

on blossoms

spring morning

a rose wallah

dresses a boquet

distant hill

a river carrying

the cherry blossoms

springs end

my infant fingers

the fallen petal

autumn drizzle

a wallah shakes

the orchid bouquet

Ramesh Anand

Bangalore,

India

[email protected]

FRAGRANCE FRAGRANCE FRAGRANCE FRAGRANCE VOL 1 ISSUE 3VOL 1 ISSUE 3VOL 1 ISSUE 3VOL 1 ISSUE 3

Jul - Sep 2013

Managing Editor : Waseem A Malla

Editor in Chief: Shalini Samuel

Cover Pic:Neelam Saxena Chandra

Dear Readers,

Glad to meet you through third issue of Fragrance.

Fragrance has grown so fast. More and more submissions

are pouring in from poets all over the world. Choosing

few poems from that bundle isnt an easy job.

Fragrance is taking a step forward by introducing you our

new co-editor Dr.Sunil Mishra. And I hope you would all

love him.

We have decided to charge reading fee for your

submissions. First twenty days of reading period will not

demand you any fee. This is just to ensure timely

submissions. The fund will be used later to pay

contributors and organize contests. I hope you will love

this change.

Regards

Shalini Samuel

Editor in Chief

Fragrance

Picture by Ira Joel Haber

The Moment

Drowns out my voice to your symphony

Into fathoms of thoughts to accompany

The chords of heart, plays every string

When I sense you, like daffodils in spring

Blooms bright smile, as my eyes beseech

For your presence, in silent melody speech

Besotted with you, in bosom of this moment

Seeks a ripple of pleasure ambient

Freeze oh time! When I reflect deep

In his charming eyes, in his arms as I seep

-Basilia Leva

Darjeeling- A Paradise

setting herself between the hills

she nurtures as a foe

rustic she is

nectaring the urbanity

embellished with a verdure of pines

she looks like a beautiful lass

demure she looks hiding her beauty

set away from the population soothing in the sun

no less than a heaven she view

with just raw sounds of chirping and the fresh sounds of cuckoo

she seem no less than a beautiful queen

the twists and turns of the roads

the whistle of the toy train

the ooze of the smoke

nowhere can be found

set between the hills

the early sun spreading over the kanchenjunga,

as if redacting a necklace to a beautiful queen

touching the sky, met with the souls of bravery

here dwells the gorkhas

bravery in their blood respect in their heart

they situates them on hearty land called the queen of hills

gulped in the rain from mid may till the september end

the wet soil smell pleases every mind

defined with its cold weather the freshness it caters

rejuvenates every tegument

really an earthy paradise she seems.

Biswash Galay

In Another Country

hills are more lovely

in another country

no apparitions to cling

to remembrance

from another country

shuffle of the breeze

scatters my past

from another country

fragrances are more sweet

in another country

-Chicory Poetry

Enchanting Rose

Tracing the interlining

Of an imprinted soul

Vines cascading along

The beauty of crme skin.

Entranced by a stunning rose

Saturation of hues

Leave a deep aura

Of lullaby kisses.

Surrounding the hearts petals

The sway of the fragrance

Does engrave a beauty

Of lifes most precious gift.

Photo and Poem 2013

Cristy Upshaw

Moon and Sun's Interlude

Moon and Sun; the Father of Time -

Intervals of deities mystical plays,

Classical beams silver gold screen -

Sprint kindliness and blissful rays.

The polarity of a distant devotion

Through time and space collide,

In atmospheric ebbs and flows

No celestial wave can hide.

Cristy Upshaw

Satin Iris'

Loving words blow in,

Leaving me in silent prayer,

Silhouettes light left,

Rays of soft caresses,

In satin sheets of iris'.

Cristy Upshaw

After the Haze

There. Leaves swirling like snakes

upon the road, rising, pinioned to strike.

Skys grey venom, fanged thunderclouds.

On the news, hailstorms pelting in Jurong.

Buildings and cars agonized by ice shards.

Beyond our windows, rains begun a-falling,

the distant whip-lash of

lightning-

flashes.

Weve little inkling what goes on beyond

the pale pane of windows. Hear them rattling,

like ghosts rapping about to come in.

Weve little inkling what goes on

beyond the thick skulls of mentality.

Some colleagues jesting, why no hail

our district? The frost of mouths could

bring in the curses, invite in

the ghosts.

The snaking leaves swept

nowhere by the deluge. Our fortune

of not-yet-hailstorms.

-Dan Tan

A touching touch

Eyes kissing lips, lips kissing eyes,

Icy winds were sweating deeply,

Tempting rain of sighs painted sky,

Our curvature falling steeply,

Wet mischief of burning breaths,

Hands caressing hairs,

Bodies entangled beholding fun,

Unaware of their matchless shares,

Spongy lips tasting immensely,

Sprinkling watery naughty neck,

Delicate delicious bodies dissolving into one,

Who cares for a Check,

Feeling the wetted curves,

Boiling bodies evaporating,

Timelessness and motionlessness,

Trepidation of innateness separating,

Numerous kisses, kissing thy soul,

Every touch of body generates sighs,

An elation of emotive fragrances,

Creating memorable infinite highs

Diwakar Pokhriyal

Whose face it is

the mirror shows a different picture every day

the flame shooting out from the fireplace

its counting the new arrivals

the flame of the candle says good bye

to those who are going away

anticipation gathers inside

a butterfly with spread wings

lies on the burning rocky floor

paint rolls off of the wall

the house rises up for

the fresh faced wind

to fly it

to another place

Gabor G Gyukics, Hungary

It cares not what you'll become

a cigarette smoulders with you together

the wind comes in to fetch the smoke

looks around

what else there is to take

but rather it sniffs

shows a grimace

tears a piece off a paper bag

tips over a plastic cup

hits you in the face

pushes the curtain to the side

and

slams the window

after leaving you behind


That is your own

during tail-wind

the headwind

pushes you back

only the motion remains

your body is searching for the gap

your eyes are already behind the wind

the weight of Nothing in your head

is a pawn pressed in the corner

you won't meet him ever

but what's waiting


My Religion

Take a pinch of the dust of the stars,

Place it under gravitys pressure

And within our microscopes vision

To find bottomless echo canyons

Between rows of multicolored grains

Of new sand, no two alike except

Two half parts of a spiral center

Split and separated at two end points

Of a universe. Place the slide in

A small capsule and send it to sea,

Return, place your footsteps in the sand.

Wait, witness the magnificence of

Nature and its timing of all things

Within a single fused grain of sand.

Lyndon Seitz

MY ANGEL IN DISGUISE

I heard that there was an angel in the town

I searched the town upside down

Dejected, one eve as I was sitting wearily

My daughter came home and sat on my lap merrily

She cuddled me, she gave me a kiss

Her kiss gave me an ultimate bliss

I looked silently at her heavenly eyes

And discovered it was my eternal paradise!!!

Her fairy-like poise had a soothing calm

Her actions had a majestic charm!!!

Like a happy star I saw her face twinkling

Soft words from her lips were jingling!!!

Her loving touch made me realise

She had always been my angel in disguise

While I was hopelessly searching in Paris and Rome

The angel was silently perched in my sweet home!!!

I hugged her and I took her in my arm

I let myself free in her angelic warmth

So lucky was I to have her with me

Finally at peace - I smiled with glee.

Neelam Saxena Chandra

The Rose Bud

Of all the blooms that decked the pews,

so splendid in their vibrant hues,

the fragrant rose buds caught most eyes,

holding the promise of long lives.

Yet outside on the dusty road,

there lay a rose bud dirt-cloaked,

and hurrying feet to its beauty blind,

buried it deeper till it died.

Thus embraced the lowly earth,

another child in early death,

a tiny moment unheeded, unsought,

no one to miss it, hidden by frost.

Cold it was and nature cried,

but colder still the hearts that shied,

from picking up that helpless bud,

choking lonely pleas to be loved.

And still goes on the cruel round

of crushing, stifling innocence bound,

till we no longer hear the sound

of falling tears that sink the ground.

Neha Singh

Original Sin

One careless childish foot in pursuit,

pressed down on a little chick.

It opened like a burst guava,

revealing its shameless red innards

to horrified guilty eyes.

When play became tragedy

and Eve bit the apple,

blood stained her memory,

marking her forever.

What protruded from the open body

befouled it, was not part of it.

Unnatural and strange it had sprung up

beneath her oblivious foot.

Such nakedness had to be hidden.

The mud was poured quickly, desperately

the burial given and forgiveness asked

but never forgotten, not even now.

Neha Singh

Between Us

Your fragile pulse lies hidden,

curled up within knots of flesh.

Soft and strong are the sinews

of your arms.

I am all loved up.

Breathless in your embrace,

a little frightened of your power.

Here at the nape of the neck

exposed, your heartbeat cannot escape me

and flutters beneath my lips

as if unsure and afraid of me.

When I cry, my tears fall right there.

Crisp starched shirt becomes wet

and clings to your soft hard neck, and I to you.

Neha Singh

The Sorrow of Trees

The trees lift

twisted limbs

in supplication

to any listening

god

Make us dance

as we did when

we were

young!

But their trunks

have grown too

thick

for such cavorting

and even the wind

can only whisper

comfort.

Rie Rose

Early Morning

There is a softness

to the air of

morning

before the harsh

realities of the day

begin to intrude.

The sun,

new risen,

is warm as a

lovers embrace,

not hot and

scornful.

The wind whispers

secrets in a

playful tease

instead of

howling its

anger.

Early morning

holds the promise

of eternity.

Rie Rose

Love is an illusion.

I am born alone and shall go alone.

In the meanwhile also Im alone.

Only when I am in love with someone

I make an illusion that Im with one.

Draw hopes

A movie moves us.

A story touches us.

They arent real.

Knowing it, we do.

We enjoy in follies.

Be God real or not;

Let us take Him real

And draw from Him hopes.

rmshanmugam chettiar

Star anatomy

Shimmering lip gel

Vermilion redness of a setting sun

Tembling, charred lips camouflaged

Favoured tissues, smothering the lips

Rejoicing every signature

Bruised heart, jinxed fate mourning

Lonesome soul, a few cigarette crushed

Sunken eyes, purple scars

Bed sheet scrambled, old scotch trampled

Sleeping pills, diamond rings,

Wet old pillow choked to tears

Placid purse, flock of cards

Stardom left

Some overdose pills

Some leftover sins

Another broken soul on a heavenly trip

Life was a battle underneath the luster

And you said I was a star

Ronita Bhandari

Broken Wings

Withered flowers, broken stems;

Torn leaves, lying like fallen gems.

Innocent trees, now fallen dead

A mindless battlefield, a forest that bled.

I heard them today, those terrifying sounds

Wrecking and felling homes to the ground

This is just the start, I hear the animals say

They will come, they warn us, for your forest another day.

I flit my wings and fly above the carnage

Precious life destroyed by a human and machine barrage

Do they not see? Do they not hear?

The shrieks and cries of my friends, so dear?

Where are those chirps, those sweet melodies?

Those heartfelt songs and amusing parodies.

Oh! The fun that we had, the games that we played.

How I wish these memories will not fade.

Fade, like the forest that I see down below,

A lush haven it was once, where the river did flow.

Now a barren, hate filled land

With only murderers and thieves, and other such clans.

The tears will not stop, the pain will only grow;

Fear in our hearts; what next, will they show.

The law of the jungle is dead and gone,

For the law of the man is now born.

Sumira Khan

Aimless

The veined

Dry

Brown leaf,

Unhooked

Suddenly

From a bare

Tree,

Off the black highway,

Wanders off

Directionless,

In humid air

Full of exhaust---

Like an unemployed

Youth,

In formals,

Blank-eyed,

Moving around,

Aimless,

Searching hope,

In the crowded alleys,

High-rises,

Of the lunch-time

South Mumbai,

Yet not sure,

Uncertain,

Tentative,

He---

Like the

Drifting

Yellow

Leaf.

---Sunil Sharma

A Grand Mother

Wearing the barked face, she searches for her eyes

to read her destiny written somewhere on the wall

invisible from her.

Creates ripples of laughter sans dentures

she is not the one, to mind

like a banyan tree, she stands tall

to give shelter to each and every kind.

Branches broken, leaves blown away

yet happy is she

as seeds grow and transmigrate

into flowers and fruit laden trees.

Though beyond her reach now, far away.

like a banyan tree, she still stands

weathering the storms of the time

providing shades to guests to take rest

and to enjoy in her nest from time to time.

Cruel is the time but she has seen the worst

will power sustains her mind and soul

not the body though,

now lives with anxiety and agony

time not far off to wear new clothes

and to say good bye to her uncaring progeny.

Soon she will also feel the heat like that banyan tree

from the builders, land mafias

and insensitive rascals of her own

bulldozing the very roots of hers

not waiting for her natural nirvana

only to reap the benefits.

Tribhawan Kaul

Freelance writer-poet

Ways of Love

Descending darkness breathing down the living

Shadows of silence becoming monstrous

None dares to challenge rogue elements

Breeze of love seeks passage through everyones heart

Wading through the waves of emotions and actions

An aura of tranquillity and serenity lift up spirits

Bringing much need solace and comfort

Trying to cement the path glimmering with sunrays

Leading to ultimate calmness and happiness

Wonderful are the ways of love.

Tribhawan Kaul

Freelance writer-poet

After death

Amidst

Whispers of rest in peace

vibrating entire cosmos

a departed soul watching

curiously from the above

a body below

surrounded by wailing people

mournfully

spelling out all the words

available in praise

staunch opponents

eulogising white deeds

ignoring the black ones

wiping crocodile tears

and laughing in sleeves

friends, foes and family

come to remember

a departed soul

which

wishes to be the whole

but for its KARMAS.

Tribhawan Kaul

Thrown Away

Death showed up again Today

As he does every day

We just dont notice unless he

Breathes down our necks

Taps on our shoulder

Dances macabrely on our doorstep.

How easily we throw away

Friendships, relationships,

Commitments, dreams

Expecting them to stay

As we cast them aside

Like clothes discarded,

Out of favor, until we choose

To return

Only to find that

Death has come

And stolen Tomorrow.

Valerie Chisholm-Letkeman

Senses

There's no sound as sweet

As a baby's first tweet,

The first time a birdie's wing flaps,

The first song cheered with claps.

There's no sight as good

As a flower bloom in the wood,

The beginning of a mountain spring,

The rainbow that the showers bring.

There's no touch as dear

As moms presence comforting n near,

A friends warm hug when life feels dreary,

A loving hand's caress when you are weary.

There's no taste as delicious

As Loves first kiss candy n luscious,

The first fruit on the tree you planted,

The cheers drink after a long-awaited wish granted.

There's no smell as pleasant

As Soaked earth after a torrent,

Passion embedded in a red rose,

Purity of a newly born held close.

Vinita Surana

Friends

Knock Knock! Who's there?

Hello dear! Smile is here.

Welcome dear! So nice of you

Stay with me for a day or two.

Ive no riches to shower on you

No gifts precious to offer you.

But with you Ill share

My treasures of love and care.

A warm hug to make you feel wanted

When everyone take you for granted.

My eyes shall capture your image

To be saved in my heart for age.

Even if you leave some day

Your memories will find a way.

Friends we'll be, whether far or near

Be sure, to me you'll always be dear.

Vinita Surana

Lost Innocence

Dark Alleys leading to darker zones

Furnaces smoking incessantly

A trail of meagre sunlight peeking in

From a square opening atop the barred windows

A shrill whistle disturbs the ominous silence

A flurry of activity commence

Short fragile bodies move at lightning speed

To deliver scalding hot molten glass

From the furnace to the moulds

To be moulded into stunningly beautiful bangles,

Very different from those parched faces

And now coarse hands and frail limbs

That work day and night

For long exhausting hours sans a break.

Emptying the pans to be rushed back and refilled

Muffled cries of pain escape from the sealed lips

As a drop or two slips on to the blistered hands and legs

Working on the moulds to create with finesse

Shushed into silence by the hawk eyes

Following their slightest deflection.

Innocence being strangled and suffocated to near death

In the dreary and scary dark dungeons

Bereft of even a breath of fresh air and light

Slaughter-houses of childhood and future citizens

Of this ever-progressive world.

Vinita Surana

Please don't stop the music:

silence is the newest loud

silence is obviously loud turned inside out

a multitude of gaping holes

have been forcefully stitched

into the fabric of my minds sanity

am yet to learn a lesson

am still not equipped.

Chinedu ichu

Fragrance Vol 1 Issue 4 & Volume 2 Issue 1

Managing Editor/Founder: Waseem A Malla, Beerwah J&K

Editorial Staff: 1. Ms Shalini Samuel, Kanya Kumari, TN

2. Dr Sunil Misra, New Delhi

Ira Joel Haber

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, its 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.

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 clich 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 everyones 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!

Lets Eat! Curtains up! Dinnertime!

Equal billing to food and talk

Freely passed round the table

Pasta, salad, meat fill plates as we

dish the days 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 Elliots rooms the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo

Around the round oak table, love is spokenloudly, 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 midairrespires the manifestation of purity

Lamenting for Gods whisper that brushes the tearseffortlessly 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 lifewith 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.

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 arent 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.

Tribhawan Kaul

Documents

Fragrance Vol1 Merged