FRAGRANCE Vol 3 IssuE 1

Editors NoteDear friends,

Glad to meet you all after long time. Sorry for the delay. My debut poetry collection Singing Soul is published now and thats the reason I wasnt able to concentrate on Fragrance. Waseem too was busy in his studies. We apologize for the delay and we thank you that you stood by us and patiently waited for the issue.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge says,

Poetry: the best words in the best order.

Let the words in best order refresh your mind. Let the words of these poems rejuvenate your thoughts.Let poetry rule your hearts.

Happy Reading.

RegardsShalini Samuel.

1Evolution for some, not for all

Piercing malleable opening,a softness in the faceover ridden by cynical neglect.Supper is almost ready, folly onthe garden steps.Intonations speak theunderbelly layers of languages.Puddles I deliberatelystep in to know the intimacy of water,the revival of being overpowered by the strongestof all Earths elements.Superimpose me on your raincloud.I cry like Lazareth shedding his week-old shroud.I stumble under the falcons swooping breath,remembering myself prehistoric -a bird before birds.

Allison Grayhurst407 Sammon Ave.,Toronto ONCanadaM4J 2A9(416) 466-4847allisongrayhurst@rogers.com

2Its Trees or Not Trees

Human hopes and human experienceinterrupt and contradict each otheruntil they become nothing morethan a wallpaper pattern.

Unallowable worlds skulk on the edge of sight,devour the landscape with whispers.

I keep only a shaded windowonto that madness now.I know its trees or not treesand need not look again.

I let the soap bubbleswith the imprint of eternity on them,hiss and hum their slaughterhouse politics,and pass gently by.

I behave as if stars are not bursting ecstatically,as if the kings thousandth cousin the wormisnt busily fucking itself into a broader existence.

And so the pattern in the wallpaper repeatswith no meaning beyond its viral shimmyuntilCollin Dodds

3Too Frail to Mock

Reality is too frailto mock at this hour.

Our feelings do not run strong or long enough.We are at the mercy of a gigantic echo.

The word Already rings throughout the echo.It opens sentences and closes whole worlds.

In our one moment in the sanctum,we gather our voice and call out:

Wait, we think weve found the answer:Its either the Irish Blessing Cross or own urine.

Like that, the little youscrews things up for the big you.

Collin Dodds4Loneliness Grows Stranger the Larger It Becomes

We brought food to their lips. But they would not eat.We implored them with prayer and self-flagellation.But they would not be moved.We blasphemed to the limits of our imaginations.But they would not raise their hands or voices against us.

Still we fed, praised and cursed them.Until, with an atom bomb to deflect creations question,we left that home.

Collin Dodds

5Secrets of the Modern Race

My tribe held a gunto the head of the world,only to learnthat you cant just laugh offsomething like that.

Babies find it strangeto be born among us.

The tvs fill with fantasiesabout institutionalized cannibalism.

And even the billboards concedethat the primordial trust has been brokenin the worst possible way.

The shape of that catastropheworry the men all dayand give them erections at night.

How are we supposedto get excited, to glow,unless people are maimed and killed?asks everyone, in or near a movie, now showingall the time.

The ancient processes are short-circuited.Certain extreme measures unveil themselves.

The urgent center expands,takes the newspaper as its skin.

Collin Dodds

6Room Without End

The endless room flickers.Its lightning is line charts and its thunder is poverty.

The endless room makes men and womenequivocal as anthropologists apologists,even in the privacy of their own hearts.

You can do alright here for awhile.But youll never beat the dead man in charge.

Collin Dodds

7Whispers of Soul

Into a colliery, the ground quakesDarkness envelops a pleading coreCasting doubtsunsolicited visionsHesitation, overcoming the mind

Desiccated interjection swaysEncasing the nimbleness fromThe woes entreated of the beyondSubmerging my delicate soul in eternity

Cristy Bramhall, July 8 2014

8Noise

Someday, youll write your last poem,kiss your last kiss, lookat a sun that wont return.

Youll be gone between the timethat a leaf will begin to falllike an aimless, intoxicatedsparrow, and when it will land.

The world will go on, busywhere youve seen it,where somebody else has watched,where nobodys ever seen,busy, lazy, at all of its speeds,seconds and eras intermingled.

The heart is a clock, and yourswill simply stop, a gearwill spring off down the hill,rolling and shiny, rattlingto the bottom then spin,then hiss into stillness.

Where your noise was, there will be noise.

JBMulligan3 James StreetWashingtonville, NY 10992frastus0g@gmail.com

9When I die

I'll miss my family, my friends.I'll miss poetry and beer,music and light and food.

I'll miss everything I had and lost.I'll miss this sky.I'll miss that sky.

I'll miss my senses.I'll miss the world they fondle and question.

I'll miss the pets I buryand the pets that wonder where I am,that mourn if it's a dog,and wander off if it's a cat.

I'll miss the sweetness of dogsand the tartness of cats.

I'll miss the wet green leaves of springand the splatter of autumn colorsdrifting down and awayfrom the anchoring wood into dirt.

I'll miss the dirt.I'll be the dirt.You'll smell the air and go on.That will be enough.

JBMulligan3 James StreetWashingtonville, NY 10992frastus0g@gmail.com

10Abound aroundOn this speck of interstellar spaceI ride towards firefighting dreamsAs if valuable assetsMay be delightful in full measureEarly in the morning of the worldNext month will get involvedJumping out of airplanesTo fulfill promisesWorlds around me shrinkingStuck in a blizzard of starsSpecifically millions uncountableLong may it waveThis flag of which we areUnaware compatriotsWith pre-existing melodiesAn old poem set to musicYears after its creationIt will be for a long timeUndercutting righteous claimsOpposition calls our namesTrying to predict a new eraAdded momentumLimited to a maximumTraining to communicateTrust and integrityLike storytellersIn their own nightsBelieving

John Garmon11Pinched Corners

Good peoples mistakesPounded out by lawyersRigging testimonyPaying witnessesUnder the tableHer lips quiveredAs she testifiedLike a caught fishGasping for airPinched cornersOf her dainty mouthThe ugly prosecutorHeld up his handHis dirty fingernailsHe declared dismayHad a flash of wisdomFrom who knows whereThey carried him awayHe tried to seeThrough the windshieldThe judge gave a sharp glanceThe jury had false leaningsGood people paidThey were ubiquitous

John Garmon

12Then we will take care

Trees and stonesWounds and moansTheir bullets found usHow it soundsTo hear their fleshStruck point-blankThen sublime peacefulnessWe envied their being deadI nearly suffocatedUnder the mattressThey hid me underClutching tightlyI listened helplesslyMy mind a wild frenzyFears spat outSwiveled aroundForced me to stifleMy halted screamsThey said ride outYour turmoilThey we will take careTo see this doesntHappen again.

John Garmon

13Natures picture

Dark grey sky peeping throughThe lattice of the branches.Yonder stands a tree with itsSerrated leaves as if waitingFor someone in solitude.

Twilight is about to set in.Morning glory has vanishedWith all its dazzling brilliance,Leaving behind a trail of gloom,A pall of utter despondence.

Soon darkness will come,Swathing the jet black canvas.The night star gleaming withA smile so cherubic,I welcome the sheer loveliness.

The diamond-studded canopy,A portrait of picturesque beauty.Without radiance, without lusterBut with a comeliness, enticingThe poets to doodle for ages to come.Koyel Mitra

14ExaltedShimmering rays percolate through my heartEffacing the weeds of yesteryears.

Pristine sunshine glitters in my windowEmbracing me with ample affection.

Day ends with the voluptuous twilightPainting the canvas of my soul.

Moonbeams smile at meThrough the star-studded sky.

Night befalls but the lightNever extinguishes, an aura of mirthEnvelops and caresses me now.

DesultoryMemories buried deep inside,Only groan and ache of encounter.Loving traces of him embitterMy already captured heart.

His seductive smile melioratesMe in umpteen despair.

Cherishes for his attachment thisHeart made sore by his immaculate love.

His love though chaste piercesMy virgin heart with flames of desire.

Unabated passion scorches asThis love is not replete.

Torched heart scours for aLove pure, primordial but incomplete.

Koyel Mitra

15Fire

Why there is no fireWhen two red-heads of match-sticks chafe?Not even a spark flares; a sterile dark.

Squirming between two match-sticksA fireworm whistles a wet songInto the xeric ears of no listener.

Why there is no fireWhen sun perfuses its life all firmament?Dabbed in blue the speckless pilgarlic.

Set and rise not foreverHovering in the vertiginous heights near the tumbling edgeBeing overconscious ruins the step.

Why the word fire hasntSet self ablaze while everyone says language is reflexive?Opposites furtively coexist with each other.

Arent there a thousand countenances for fire?Seen just one thats torrid, juggernauting everythingHow cool the womb of fire.

Why fire always leaves behind a souvenirWhen itd inflicted severest of changes?Not only Burn, scar, twinge, turn and bend,

But the suffered itself is oneNo rescue for the thirsty throatWhen itd netted to the mouth of fiery waters.

Krishna Kumar

16Jasmine

Seeing her heart effloresce every dayEvincing her love through her pristine perfume.

Instinct prods to seek herNaked simplicity outweighing mundane glitz.

Tongueless language speaks love truer than the tongueWords fail truth by the time they reach the heart.

Not caressing her soft white petals,For any relation that involves touch will go sour.

Heart bursts when she quiversEven under the delicate smooch of the fingers.

Filling the lidless limitless bowl of the soul with her fragranceReceiving never ceases, so does the storing.

Squatting in front of her, mute and attentiveWhile she sparges my being with her aromatic presence.

Love of smell is inexhaustible unlike love of flesh,For it lasts long even when it long ceases to exist.

Krishna Kumar

17Metamorphosis 1

As he sat near the peaceful lakeHe detected all my composure was fakeA beautiful butterfly flewSuddenly a sword it drewIt changed into a deadly dragonHeading towards hell was its wagonThe dew on the flowers all turned blackPeace and beauty were all thrown at the backThe sky was no bluerA grey substance rained like glueStuck in it he became pessimist even moreHe wanted to escape from an invisible doorHis hands then transformed into wingsWhat else was reserved for him in the long list of findings???

Shah Jehan Ashrafi

18

Metamorphosis 2

We all live in that transitionDoomed to our own ambitionSoft and kindCruel and blindTouchy like the morning dewViolent anewWhilelife pining to reach a new heightYet we embrace the ground in a hurry to take flightThe monster inside us is always hereThen we attack the one who is always dearWhy do human beings live this dual existence?Great souls need to go through that penitenceThe saint can become an ugly monsterYet a monster can resist a disasterWe keep changing without changingThe desert never disappears though it keeps rainingShah Jehan Ashrafi

19Metamorphosis 3

A story is lifeWritten with a sharp edged knifeStrife, suffering all stoutThis is what life is all aboutHappiness too can pierce darknessBut one wants a true abode with all fairnessWhere is that abodeWe keep changing it once aboardA mystery is lifeLike behind a veil stands a beautiful wifeOnly after death is an abode givenThe tomb stands between the world and heaven

Shah Jehan Ashrafi

20Love LullabyHis writing echoes his affectionate voice, deepReading every line he wrote for me, I fall asleep

I hold no memories of yesterday except these papersHis every single line is a lullaby to me

Like a balloon slipping from its mooringMy soul escapes into eternal peace

Reading these love filled letters became a ritualSince he left me, left me with tears

That washed away all my memoriesI have no more tears left to shed but

I realize that love can never be perennialThough I fool myself every day that it actually is

Basilia,India.21DintYou've always been a veritable greased pigwhen it comes to avoiding virtual disasterbrought about by reckless risks,or lying your way out of an arrest.

Sure as a cat, you have nine lives,but at last count you've expended eight,so best toe the line from here on out.

I might add that at last sighting Silver Starwas mating with wolves out where cattailsgrow in wide open fields of mind unwound.

This extends to me the concrete conclusionthat love bites from her little cupid mitesare mere nuisances: texts dont constitutea relationship. Occasional appearancesfor purpose of consummating bodily bondinga necessary component in the overall gestalt.

I have taken Draconian action, informing herno more niggling excuses allowed:show up and shine or dont burn my time.

You have no doubt noticedthat Stephen Hawking has come outwith an ominous warningabout the Singularity, artificial intelligencean impending tsunami: think ahead 20 years,whats more an entire century--mankindat that point ruled by dint of its own invention!

Such a world tailor-madefor wealthy fops and dew-dropgypsy fairies that hum, flittingjust this side of the suns corona.

No need to conjure, the native raisinso long dormant at that suns corehas risen and is visible to your naked eye.

Thomas Piekarski22Teachers

Moon when ceases to existstars shine brightlynegotiate universal mazechoreographers end assignmentsdancers take centre stageor gardeners water the thoughtstrimming the plantsand cutting the rough edgesfor smooth growthwithin the peripheryof social hedges, buds bloomsure, legend are not made in the wombdiscipline, values, responsibilitiesinculcated to be tools of anti-wrongdoingno gratitude is enoughthanks giving makes one weepas investors far offwatch their money growin the building of a nationa nation reaps, they sow

Tribhawan Kaul

23

Senryus

Mothers cryblood all over newbornsfathers ecstatic .

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Sun shining brightTwinkling stars fading fast.Children starving

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Highway crashBrain deadDead men walking.

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Eyes untrustworthyBeauty not skin deepBreakup.

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Simmer volcanoLush green mountainBest deception.

Watching to excelWaiting in wingsDreams in eyes

Tribhawan KaulNote from the poet :- Senryu is a Japanese form of poetry like haiku. It is written in three lines like haiku with syllables count in first, second and third line upto 5-7-5 respectively. It predominantly deals with human nature and its behaviour. Like haiku it is best known for its brevity and imagery. Reader has to imagine what the poet wants to say.

24Things You Make

The fall of songaccompanies no tree.

We saw through concreteto prevent future crackswhenEarth's less stable.

Rivers run under us,against progress.

We arrive home by dark.

Time illuminates Berlinover and over again,even when it's broken.

I'll leave later for work tomorrow.

I'll email my coworkers to explain-my right headlight isn't working again.Jason Arnold

25Down on the farm

we kill chickens.We don't carehow the chickens feelwe make theminto a happy meal.

Mikel

26

Leather jacket stolen

When you havea broken car windowyou tend to noticeall the other brokencar windows in the worldaround you and you wonderif everybody elsehad their leather jacketstolen from their car, also.

Mikel3.9.98

27You'd never find out

She looks good untilshe pulls a cigarette outthen I wouldn't kiss her.She looks so prettybut smells like an ashtray.They could put heron the cover of a magazineand you would never find out.

MikelSept. 29, 2000

PicturesLouie Crew Clay

Thankyou

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