Poetry Chapbook Contest Shortlist!

Event - 23rd November 2017

100 Thousand Poets Blog update!

Visit the 100 Thousand Poets for Change blog archived by Standford University for glimpses of our event "A Poetic Rendezvous" held at Alliance Francaise du Bengale.

http://www.100tpcmedia.org/100TPC2012/2017/08/amit-shankar-saha-rhythm-divine-poets-kolkata-india-2017/

Poetry Chapbook Contest Longlist and other announcements!

Event - 20th September 2017

Call for Poets!

Submit your poems here: http://www.bonobology.com/poetry-contest-write-a-short-poem-on-love-and-relationship/ 

NABINA DAS - Featured Poet

No Country, No Names

The young girl in a sari was

Off to the library, her hands

Clasping books, she didn’t see

The truck crawl up behind her

Stuffed with soldiers wearing

Leafy helmets, false implants in

The heart of that shell-shocked

Macadamized Bengal town

Her face a sorry storybook

Quite a few pages torn

When they found her by

A garbage dump, stared at

By the ancient panhandler

The poor bastard refused arrest

Shouted abuses, got suitably

Thrashed by the police

A young man had whispered

The night before: show your palm

The red henna peacock from

The evening’s merry festivities

And she read him a poem

About crocodiles in snare

Until they fell asleep in

Each other’s arms, dreaming

There was a river, grass and

Flowers shrouding its banks

Its depth unknown, but easy

For the rebels who could swim

The same night Yahya Khan

Made quick plans to strike

Universities where students

Danced to songs of Tagore

That was a night when nervous

Sirens screamed on and on, his

Would-be bride was picked up

And thrown. Folding up

Maps that fooled, didn’t show

A country of hearts, he left

A peacock mourned for her

And him. No country yet for them.

(Published in Into the Migrant City, Kolkata: Writers Workshop India, 2014)

Bio:
Nabina Das is a Hyderabad-based poet and writer who has authored four books. She is a Commonwealth Writers correspondent 2016, a Charles Wallace fellowship winner 2012 and a Sangam House fiction fellowship winner 2012.

Call for Artists!

ANDREW BELLON - Featured Poet (Tribute)

(Love Evolves) Love evolves; colors my troublous quarks. I lie in the shadows of our tangled light as under sleeping trees. Silence has a place here as the continuance of a holy text. We are dazzled matter; the silence spins in the shadows. Waves, particles, hieroglyphs, whatever we are, we are part of the gliding night's adornments; of the night that holds like memory airy relicts of the known and rising light of my emptiness filling. Long have I discarded my physics books and indulged in poetry until I came across an Andrew Bellon untitled poem that spoke of the physics of love and I found all the quarks and gluons and quanta and all other hypothetical fundamental particles striking back at the interface of my consciousness where hieroglyphs form and theories evolve. Love evolves too coloring the agitation of the elements of matter that make my being. Or was it Andrew’s being? Something jumps orbit and enters my shell. There is something uncanny in the imagery of someone lying in the shadows of “tangled light/ as under sleeping trees.” It is the poet but it could very well be me. Everything is so elementary here that there is a smooth flow of nascent identification. When the Babel of sound ceases it is the same silence that remains with everyone like “the continuance of a holy text” – any holy text. The trope of physics continues in the second stanza when the poet says, “We are dazzled matter.” Perhaps it is the dazzling that brings the stupefying silence that “spins in the shadows.” The speculations – “Waves, particles, hieroglyphs” – from the intangible to the hypothetical to the decipherable become “gliding night’s adornments.” The night, slipping by and yet not eliding from its grip all that has survived from primitive periods, fills like the impalpable air of memory the poet’s emptiness. The “rising light” and “emptiness filling” almost depict a convection current as if the Brownian motion of the “troublous quarks” in the first stanza has attained a cosmic pattern in the second stanza as love evolved. The trajectory of the poem traces a curve that brings within its loop the spinning subatomic particles as well as the spinning cosmos. This is love in its everlasting, primeval, pure state. Who will not identify with it in this poem? This is not only the poet’s poem; this is the reader’s too. (A New Earth) With heavily hanging leaves and open-handed fronds, the little path through your flower garden hides, in its unexpected turns, a new earth. It's there sounding in bird song, making a restless peace for itself in the living air. Shall we enter and grace that radiance with human arms? Let's wait at the inward door to those fields of light. To find our way we must first be lost. Whatever empties there refills. The moment of discovery has in its essence both the element of euphoria and a contradictory element of relaxation. Especially if the place discovered has been hidden by “heavily hanging leaves,” “open-handed fronds” and a shrouded garden path of “unexpected turns” then that moment of discovery is a moment of paradox. This “new earth” is a place where the bird song has a “restless peace.” It is this sound that makes the air living. It is thereby a discovery of life. It is also a moment of hesitation where you question yourself as if you have apprehended your own self as an intruder – “Shall we enter…?” The new earth is no longer a space it is a moment in time, a “radiance,” the incorporeal that you have qualms at touching with “human arms.” So you decide to wait. Now vice-versa, time yields to place and waiting begets “the inward door/ to those fields of light.” The conundrum of first getting lost in order to find the way and experience that moment of discovery where paradoxes meet, where contradictions emanate from each other and yet co-exist, and where relationships unearth new meanings, this new earth is perhaps self-realization. In this new earth whatever empties gets refilled, whatever is lost is found, whatever is not understood understood. Perhaps it is love for love too reconciles opposites and hence it is also grace, radiance, and a hint of perpetuity, infinity, and eternity. Andrew Bellon’s poem gives us a glimpse of something that is inside us and yet is elusive. It needs to be discovered and waited upon at that “inward door” to experience the “fields of light” that the soul bestows on us.

- Amit Shankar Saha

2017 - 3

Rhythm Divine Poets conducted a poetry workshop at The Future Foundation School on 20th July 2017. The guest poet at the event was Sonnet Mondal.

Rhythm Divine Poets were in collaboration with Kaafiya for the city-based "Kaafiya Milao" session for the city Kolkata. The winners of the week-long session were Nikita Parik, Yitzak Gate and Moinak Dutta for their poems on Kolkata.

Rhythm Divine Poets were the creative partner of Soul Sutra, organized by Rotaract Club of Central Calcutta at Doodle Room on 1st July 2017. The event saw special performance by the group as well as judging the Prose and Poetry slams.

Rhythm Divine Poets hosted Mumbai-based performance artist Vibha Rani at Wabi Sabi on 17th June for a session of Poetry and Performance. Glimpses from the event.

Event - Kolkata - 29th July 2017

Announcement!

PHILIP NIKOLAYEV - Featured Poet

CALCUTTA FLOWERS The bard addressing with his weightless quill the human will in its futility observes the florist with bunched and garlanded conflorescences who supplies his goods to dozens of local cults and is quite the worshipful man himself. The sorry samsara-swathed dusty sun reemerges among the clouds and the micromonsoon wrung out of a nowhere pit by Indra's unknowable hand is over. Magic is the name of oblivion and the reed pen and flowers now are merely methods of forgetting even the unforgivable. For the continuous self must forget itself in time where everything reduces to its opposite in the end and the end is merely the other side of a fixed beginning. Here the marigolds in their January loveliness and buckets on the sidewalk seem to know their fate. They silently belong to a caste; they are on the wrong, the chantless end of sacrifice. But here, here in their flimsy present they seem reconciled to their route of migration. The sidewalk enshrines many-handed anonymity. This marigold was a poet long ago.

(Published in Dusk Raga, Writers Workshop, Kolkata, 1998)

Bio:
Philip Nikolayev is a Russo-American poet living in Boston. He is editor of FULCRUM, a serial anthology of poetry and criticism. His poetry collections include Monkey Time (2003) and Letters from Aldenderry (2006). A collection of his Indian poems, Dusk Raga, was published by the Writers Workshop in Kolkata in 1998. New volumes are forthcoming from MadHat and Poetrywala.

AMPAT KOSHY - Featured Poet

The Real Meaning of Reincarnation

The day I was born my father and mother loved each other The day I was born was the day I was born The day I was born was the day I met Jesus The day I was born was the day I was married The days on which I was born were the days on which my daughters and son were born The day I was born was the day my son was discovered as having autism The day I was born was the day on which I fell in love The day I died was when my sister died The days on which I died were when my father and mother died The day I died was when I realized that original sin is not a myth The day I died was when I realized my daughters were girls in a world that is against women The day I died was when i realized my son being autistic would not ensure better treatment for him from many in the world but worse The day I died was the day I learned that it also meant worse treatment even from some who knew it to me and my wife and daughters and surprisingly enough they were not my enemies but usually said they were my friends The day I died was the day i realized I loved those who did not love me back enough and was loved by those I did not love back enough The day I died was the day I realized the story about Eve and Adam was not a myth The day I died was the day I lost my innocence in understanding that love is not enough The day I died was the day on which I realized I had failed more than anyone else on earth The day I died was the day I realized that it was love that was a myth, and (wo)man, not God. Between being born and dying is the silence of the lamb the wordlessness of my son is the space between the words on the printed page is the gap between the teeth the one between the lips the gash or wound between a woman's legs the pause between the spoken words Between being born and dying is the purity of the truth that each man and woman should be crucified I, being the chief of sinners but only one was Between being born and dying is the period of living waxing and waning to reach fullness and then fading into nothing sinner or saint man or woman into ashes or dust.

Bio
Dr Koshy A. V. is an Assistant Professor at the Department of English at the College for Arts and Humanities for Men, Jazan University, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. He has written, co-written or co-edited sixteen books of criticism, fiction and poetry to his credit with authors like A.V. Varghese, Gorakhnath Gangane, Angel Meredith, Dr Madhumita Ghosh, Dr Zeenath Ibrahim, Dr Rukhaya MK and Dr Bina Biswas and one of them 'A Treatise on Poetry for Beginners' was reprinted as 'Art of Poetry.' He is a Pushcart Poetry Prize nominee (2012) and twice Highly Commended Poet in Destiny Poets UK ICOP (2013, 2014) and he was thrice featured in Camel Saloon’s The Hump for best poem/editor’s pick and once for best poem in Destiny Poets UK Website. Even as a child he won the Shankar's international award for writing. He is a reputed critic and expert on Samuel Beckett besides being a fiction writer and theoretician.. He has edited or co-edited many books including A Man Outside History by Naseer Ahmed Nasir and Inklinks: An Anthology by Poets Corner and also novels for Lifi. He co-edited Inklinks:An Anthology and Umbilical Chords: An Anthology on Parents Remembered. He instituted the Reuel International Literary Prize in 2014 and runs an autism NPO with his wife Anna Gabriel. He administers with the help of other many literary groups and pages on Facebook. His poems have been studied in a research paper by Dr Zeenath Ibrahim and Kiriti Sengupta in My Dazzling Bards and also translated into Hindi, Urdu, Gujarati, German, Portugese, Spanish and Malayalam. He won World Bank’s Urgent Evoke and participated in European Union’s Edgeryders. He has been interviewed extensively. He has other degrees, diplomas and certificates to his credit besides his doctorate on Beckett. His latest books are Allusions to Simplicity , Scream and other Urbane Legends and Silhouette 1 and 2 and other short fiction edited with Reena Prasad and Michele Baron with whom he also co-edited the Significant Anthology.

MICHAEL ROTHENBERG - Featured Poet

SERENITY SPRING

One day the story changed

And those people who want to help out

They’re incompetent. All of them!

Breeding little dogs to carry around

In a purse. A conspiracy of blue jays

Indecipherable spider webs

Surveillance in every corner of the forest

You can only imagine

What the clouds say

Suspicious signals from the sun

A revolt of hurricanes!

                        *

“What have we done to the earth?”

            For years Industry told us

            About “Better living through chemistry”

            And now that we don’t like what Industry

            does we pretend they never said it

Listen to squirrel chatter

Militant moles message underground

Agitate the atmosphere

Until there’s nothing left of hope

                    (Only holes and shelled nuts)

            Fracking, fracking, fracking, cracking

The Great American Optimism!

Corporate Venture Cyclops!

                        *

            There is no peace

            The Buddha

            Buried

            Buried and unearthed

           

            Buried and unearthed

            Ashes to ashes

            Vanity to vanity

                                    Greetings Serenity!

                        *

I spoke to myself on the deck last night

We reconciled beneath the stars

Waltzed to a raccoon love song

While all the fools in paradise watched

Today the silent sun grows

And burns and burns

I remember pink towels on the garden chair

My mother’s cool gardenia hand

On my fevered head. A difficult breath

Still hidden in the leaves . . .

                        *

There are two worlds I know

The one I run from and the one I hold on to

For dear life. I don’t own either

Beware of the purple doppelganger!

Serenity loiters in fern hollow . . .

So I watch the red geraniums grow

And help them along the best I can

Sweet Serenity Spring.

First published in Wake Up and Dream (MadHat Press, 2017)

Bio:

Michael Rothenberg is editor of BigBridge.org and co-founder of 100 Thousand Poets for Change. His most recent books of poetry include Drawing The Shade (Dos Madres Press, 2016) and Wake Up and Dream (MadHat Press, 2017). A bi-lingual edition of Indefinite Detention: A Dog Story is due out from Varasek Ediciones, Madrid, Spain in Fall 2017.  He lives in Tallahassee, Florida.

RIJUREKH CHAKRAVARTY - Featured Poet

LETHE 

Memories are blank!

Dreams crisscross to be fulfilled with perplexity.

Infinity doesn’t care to put a mark on the pages.

When the craft of language, learned, is wasted,

Such nights come back

Amidst the sound of the crickets,

In the imagery of a palpable moon,

In the passionate urge for art,  

And the birds, I see, switch nests

Carrying dreams on their wings -

The dreams that would be wiped out

By the first rays of daylight.

That’s the rule of Lethe,

You know, Dorian,

Don’t you?

And if someday,

In a gloom as profound as sin,

I fail to recall even the oblivion,

Tell me, Achilles,

Should I be grateful to you?

Should I?

Translation: Dipankar Mukhopadhyay

TO BE PUBLISHED SHORTLY IN THE PEN INDIA JOURNAL

Bio

Born and brought up in Kolkata, Rijurekh Chakravarty started his writing career with Bengali poems in his college days. His first poem was published in the DESH magazine when he has 19. His first book of poem got published in the year 1992. Till now he has six books of poems under his belt. He has been awarded with as many as five literary prizes and honours. He has also penned three novels in Bengali, one of which, published during the Kolkata International Book Fair this year, is a crime thriller. Another novel by him, written 22 years back, is going to be published in book form in August this year.

GOUTAM GARY DATTA - Featured Poet

The Serpent Crawls Down

The serpent crawls down ninety pyramid steps

as the equinox light pierces

through the temple window to kiss its head.

East, south, north darken

as its vertebrae creep on hot west stones

while a thousand cheering voices

resonate Mayan walls in Chichen Itza.

What are they celebrating?

Is it the lost?

Or the tourism through the dug outs & the remnants?

Where have the Mayans gone? Who could tell?

As we walk pass the stoned pyramid, hollow ball field,

hanging hoops, listening to colorful stories from guides

to the next resort, tequila bars, swimming pools.

We break bread; bathe in the bright Mayan sun of Cancun,

talk, complain about foods, and put on sun tan lotion.

We forget, we sleep, dream the ruins

as the serpent crawls across the scorching fields.

First published in Rattapallax Magazine, NYC.

Bio:

Goutam Datta is the author of five books of poems; He writes in both English and Bengali . He is the co-editor of African American poetry Anthology Ami Amar Mritur Por Sadhinota Chai Na (I Do Not Want My Freedom When I Am Dead ) with Sunil Gangopadhyay. His works are included in "A Mingling of Waters", an anthology of Bengali and American authors and Rattapallax magazine. Goutam won Jassimuddin Poetry Award(India) in 2005 for Borofay Holood Fool. Sudhindranath Award in 2008, Vashangar Award in 2017. At present, Goutam is working on a webzine Uralpool to create a continuous literary exchange between India & the USA.

KUSHAL PODDAR - Featured Poet

Houses Without Rooms

Tonight the wife 

living on a handcart 

outside your house

will writhe under

her drunken husband

and will swear-

Never more!

and will love him ever more,

and their daughter will know-

tomorrow she will have

a new doll her father 

can never afford.

Tonight I strolled

all the way to your house.

It remains painted white.

Back on my bed I ride

a handcart of sleep

with you and our Cain and Abel.

I promise I shall buy

a toy earth for each of them,

if you let me fix the heaven again.

Bio:

Kushal Poddar is presently living at Kolkata and writing poetry. He authored chapbook ‘The Circus Came To My Island’ (Spare Change Press), full length books “A Place For Your Ghost Animals” (Ripple Effect Publishing) and Knowing The Neighborhood  (Black Rune Press, Australia), Scratches Within (Amazon), "Kleptomaniac's Book of Unoriginal Poems" (BRP, Australia).

Event - Kolkata - 1st July 2017

Event - Kolkata - 17th June 2017

SHARMILA RAY - Featured Poet

Valentine’s Day

So much for Valentine’s day

and for all the red roses and red cakes, bunnies and cards…

Laden with fragrance, fluttering glances and anonymous agonies,

love rides on the wind, draped in a shawl of cobweb –clouds, descending

on the city, interweaving with coffee, almond biscotti and stale air conditioning.

In a dimly lit suburb she dreams, making her way through midnight diaries

extending her today to tomorrow and syncing her yesterday with the present.

In malls lovers loll in beer, burger and hallucinating smoke, each a small god

 holding love tight in an hour-glass.

On the fifth floor of a housing complex under a shaded lamp, a scholar writes

a discourse on love beginning with in other words…

Precisely at that moment love snatches a line of Emily Bronte to anoint-

Cold in the earth- and the deep snow piled above thee

Between daybreak and end of the day

Love slides immaculately into many sheaths.

Perhaps, love is trivia

perhaps, love is lost in the labyrinth of language.


Bio:

Sharmila Ray is a poet and non-fiction essayist, anthologized and featured in India and abroad. Her poems, short stories and non fictional essays have appeared in various national and international magazines and journals. She teaches in City College, Kolkata under Calcutta University where she is an Associate Professor and Head of the Department of History. She was on the English Board of Sahitya Akademi. She was the editor of The Journal (Poetry Society India) and looked after a column Moving Hand Writes, Times Of India, Kolkata. She writes in English and has authored eight books of poetry; Earth Me And You (Granthalaya, Kolkata 1996), A Day With Rini (Poetry And Art 1998), Down Salt Water (Poets Foundation, Kolkata 1999), Living Other Lives (Minerva Press, New Delhi, Mumbai, London 2004), It’s Fantasy, It’s Reality (Punaschya, Kolkata 2010), With Salt And Brine (Yeti Publishers, Calicut 2013), Windows (Blank Rune Press, Australia 2016), Scrawls And Scribbles (Hawakal Publishers, Kolkata, 2016). She conducted poetry workshops organized by British Council, Poetry Society of India, Sahitya Akademi. She had been invited to International Struga Poetry Evenings, in Macedonia where she represented India and International poets meet in Kerala to share stage with Ben Okri. She was the only poet writing in English from West Bengal to participate in VAK –the first poetry biennial held in New Delhi. She has been reading her poems in various parts of the country. Her poems have been translated into Hindi, Bengali, Urdu, Manipuri, Slovene, Hebrew and Spanish.  Currently she is working on a manuscript of non-fictional essays.