Poetry Books
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Kritya2012 International Poetry Festival to be held at
Thiruvananthapuram from January 16-18, 2012
A festival that brings together creative minds from all over
the world and encourages constructive interaction
Kritya2012 is an annual international poetry festival held by
Kritya, a Trust established to widen the scope and reach of
global literature, arts and culture. It seeks to foster
excellent communication through translation, publication,
performance, interaction and exchange of literary ideas among
various languages and cultures.
Bringing together leading poetic figures from India and abroad,
the 7th Edition of Kritya International Poetry Festival will be
held at Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala (India), from January 16-18,
2012 with an extension of the festival to be held from January
19-21, 2012. Kritya 2012 is of special significance because the
festival is being held for the second time in its homeland
Kerala, in an effort to draw new vigour and succour from its
roots. This year the festival is dedicated to Literature Nobel
Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, and his ideas on peace and
brotherhood. This time, the venue will resound with the song of
Rabindranath Tagore, highlighting Kritya's efforts to make
friendship with peace at this time of terror and unrest. Kritya
aims to celebrate peace without treaties and without demagogy,
holding firmly to the conviction that though a poem cannot stop
a war or an earthquake, it can give one the courage to face
them. A poem cannot quench hunger, but it can satisfy one's mind
and soul, and show an ideal way to live.
Rati Saxena
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Ammu Will
Start Speaking Soon
Ammu will start
speaking soon
When her first word was born
I woke up from my nightmares
with a start
Her first word
yet to open its eyes
flounders about
like a baby bird
that separated from somewhere
at early dawn
to struggle in this courtyard
Her word's
numerous strange birds
Manushya Puthiran
*
A word, sure, one of those that makes you
shout, clack, shake,
run, scuff your feet,
your hands wave. A word, of course,
that has its target in your heart,
and whole your body suddenly
doesn't know anymore what it
is looking for,
A poem, in a word,
that change you river
in love.
Anna Lombardo
*
Could it be the lack of music
in my living room
or the wine
that I've stopped drinking
could it be my son
at his grandmother's
or the dog, far off
in the countryside
what opens a suffocating rut
in my chest tonight.
I turn off the telephone
So as not to obstruct
the work of destiny
so as not to tangle
flattery with luck.
Zingonia Zingone
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Poetic File:
Talking to Romanian Poet Vasile Grigore Latiş
Talking to poet Vasile Grigore Latiş, in Baia Mare, Romania, in
March 2000
by Eva Acqui
E.A.- I have seen the papers relating your writing to that of
the German Romantic poets, Holderlin, Trackl....you have always
talked warmly about South-Americans, Indians, so why the German
poets?
V.G.L. - I feel spiritually related to the German culture,
though it has intermittently reached us: the stranger it is, the
more important for us. The German spirit is more profound than
the Latin spirit: mine is related to the German and Hellenic
spirit. There I find force, I find myself.
E.A. - What about the influence of Romanian folk poetry on your
verse?
V.G.L. - My verse is a sum of epochs historically lived through
by the people: there is such a sum living in me. That is where
you find the influence of folk poetry.
E.A. - What do you call original poetry?
V.G.L. - Original poetry meets two requirements at the same
time: thought and emotion. Man is presented in totality:
however, the poet is unhappy, never satisfied.
E.A. - Do you have a special place where you write?
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Davide
Rondoni (Italy)
*
The night is full, see how
this night is full of fireworks
fallen stars in gorges
or on cliffs, at the edge of the city, plains...
Stroke your hand over my eyes,
love,
I still almost discern
the flashes the night tell me,
are they random, pyres of abandon
or scattered cirles of merriment?
tuned in televisions
in sentry camps
or hunkered invaders
who sniff in the bitter chill
and curse the moon's
lovely head...
Does a sort of human desperation
lift them into the void?
or at least the fireworks of some workshop...
**
And there
in the sea's great air
are the bonfires for sailors
or contraband?
an astral body falling
or reflections on predators'
lenses...
How full of flames this night, love
keep a hand on my chest.
What can it be initiating
what can it be writing,
that fire in all of this darkness?
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STRAY birds if
summer come to my window to sing and flyaway. And yellow leaves
if autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a
sigh.
*
O TROUPE if little vagrants if the world, leave your footprints
in
my w'ords.
*
THE world puts qff its mask if vastness to its lover. It becomes
small
as one song, as one kiss if the eternal.
*
IT the tears if the earth that keep her smiles in bloom.
*
HER wisiful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.
*
ONCE we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that
we were dear to each other.
*
SORROW is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among
the silent trees.
THE
mystery if creation is like the darkness if night - it is great.
Delusions if knowledge are like the fog if the morning.
*
DO not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.
*
I SIT at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by
stops for a moment,
nods to me and goes.
*
Stay Birds by Rabindranath Tagore
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