I am Kritya. 
The intense word power,
which always moves along with the ultimate truth, which exists completely in accord with rightness.

Kritya is an international journal of poetry publishing contemporary Indian & world poetry Besides, it also features poetry in regional Indian languages in translation To keep continuity with our past, we publish the works of classical masters. Kritya is also a humble initiative from India to make use of the web and the internet as new platform of practicing and disseminating literature

) * All the legal application should be filed in Kerala, India, where the Kritya Trust is registered.

(ISSN 0976-514X)

Poetry Books
  Kritya publication

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Poetry, I contend, is the original social media.
--- David Erickson
Facilitating Poetic Communication in This Globalized World
It is remarkable how social media is working for poets. Often, when I log in to Facebook and see virtual conversations being carried out in poetry, and that too, some of the finest verses, I feel elated. The flight of the poetic spirit can be witnessed even in the haiku poems that appear in Twitter.
The greatest asset is of course the relationships you build with kindred souls – technology has made it much easier to relate to each other. The platform allows you to create your own page, create events and invite your friends to these. There is no longer a feeling of distancing or alienation. Gone are the days when you needed to travel to meet fellow poets and artists. And considering this has come about within the span of a few years ….
Not only poets, all artists are reaping the benefits of this potential to communicate across borders. It is promoting, connecting and enabling artists to unite on a global level.
The words of David Erickson regarding poetry and social media are very significant. He argues that poetry is the original social media, emphasizing that poetry as social media starts with the oral tradition where knowledge was shared via space and time through oral poetry. Over the ages, poetry has remained a continuous conversation that is so characteristic of the current social network.
Dear friends, let us reflect on the power of poetry to relate, sympathize, empathize, cleanse and inspire. Let the potency of social media facilitate continuous poetic communication for individual as well as social betterment.
Here’s Kritya once again in your hands. Enjoy reading!
Jayasree Ramakrishnan Nair
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My voice is no more
Than a deep dug hole of grief
It travels under my skin
Touching the anguish
With its pores
Awaits a moment
Then rolls back into my eyes

Someone wipes away the tears
Silently, gently
I turn away and shut my face down

Pratyaksha Sinha
Again I breathe you this season,
And smell the smells around.
That was rains when you left;
This is winter.
They don’t make spring anymore, my dear.
Your smell haunts me,
Fresh, crisp… and blue…
Smell that has colour…
Smell that is munchy;
Smell that haunts…
Smell that talks…
Your smell,
Smell of those happy days…
Smell of what could have been.
Just wanted to tell you friend …
This smell would last me a lifetime.
I don’t wait for the spring,
‘ coz you are all my seasons.

Asha Choubey
You, my love, are real.
This pain I feel tonight without you
is real.
As the train rolled out of the station and cradled you to sleep,
every mile you traveled
was real.
No fantasy,
no fairy tale.
No magic,
no spell.
For once
in my life,
you, my love,
are real.

Goirick Brahmchari

I became, after death, even more intense
I ran away leaped down
as a boy remarkable, in my fifties inspired
with flight that same night
boasted I can, how I ran hell flew
in terrific shape, sturdy naked sides so
his bones crumbled, nothing but soot

Patrick Williamson

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I had the opportunity to participate in the Kritya International Poetry Festival, organized at the Mahatma Gandhi Hindi International University at Wardha from 15-17 September 2013. Poets from Argentina, Chile, Estonia, Finland, France, Greece, India, Ireland, Italy, Norway, Palestine, Sweden, Turkey read their poems at the festival. The poets at the festival included Anne Addolorato, Zingonia Zingone from Italy, Müesser Yeniay, Metin Cengiz from Turkey, Helena Sinervo and Nillas Holmberger from Finland , Aurélia Lassaque from France, Anastassis Vistonitis from Greece, Sergio Infante, Sergio Badilla Castillo from Argentina, Gabriel Rosenstock, Liam O Muirthile , Mark Granier from Ireland, Trim Soomets and Margus Lattik from Estonia. Indian participants included a number of Sahitya Akademi award winning poets such Sitanshu Yashaschandra, K. Satchidanandan, H.S. Shivaprakash, besides them Subodh Sarkar, Sudeep Sen, Vinod Shukla, Rituraj, Ramesh Dvik etc. The festival was a soulful event as it was organized with passion for poetry by Rati Saxena, a poet who along with her tiny and selfless team has been putting together Kritya International Poetry Festival since 2005. Rati's efforts have paid over the years and has given India its first annual poetry festival.

The festival lasted for three days, each day with four poetry sessions, two before the lunch break and two after the break. Each session had four poets on an average, who read four to five poems. All poems were translated into Hindi and were read after the poet read them in its original language. Each session had a mix of Indian poets and the poets from the foreign countries. Abhay K.
A World Class Poetry Festival for South Asia

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A Window To The Window

I see through the open window
A poor who sees but hope
Through the open window.

The beautiful in the window of the beloved
Is that it divides nature onto two sides;
The inner one is more beautiful.

The prisoner's window is like a cheating hole;
Equals between the prisoner and
Who prisoned him meaningfully.

The window has told me:
I saw the shades going to bed slowly
In the mountain's lap.

When you are alone
You can share the neighbors' weddings
Through the window.

The window has told me:
Yesterday a daylight passed by
looking for its last week as if it was doing
What the day before yesterday had done.

I say to the window:
My house is full of oxygen,
But I prefer to open you
When the mother of Jeryes visits me.

I say to the window:
Nothing separates between you and the wall
But it is meaningful.

The window and I say together:
Thank you dear reader!

Translated by Turki Amer, 2012


What I want from Al-Quds
isn’t what God wished for;
not streets visited by history
to the dance of a quick sacrifice and grown crowded.
Al-Quds contains sweeter things,
like evening gathering its kin to the bar
to make sleep bloodshot come morning.
In the city I have a girl-friend
not from the same stock as me,
a real honey
of the crab-apple confession.
Weekdays in the city are fine
but my intoxication is undone by the weekend
which resembles me in growing more dangerous
Marwan Makhoul
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Ode to my Socks
Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
knitted with her own
shepherd’s hands,
two socks soft
as rabbits.
I slipped
my feet into them
as if
jewel cases
with threads of
and sheep’s wool
Audacious socks,
my feet became
two woolen
two long sharks
of lapis blue
with a golden thread,
two mammoth blackbirds,
two cannons,
thus honored
my feet
They were
so beautiful
that for the first time
my feet seemed
unacceptable to me,
two tired old
fire fighters
not worthy
of the woven
of those luminous
I resisted
the strong temptation
to save them
the way schoolboys
the way scholars
sacred documents.
I resisted
the wild impulse
to place them in a cage
of gold
and daily feed them
and rosy melon flesh.
Like explorers who in the forest
surrender a rare
and tender deer
to the spit
and eat it
with remorse,
I stuck out my feet
and pulled on
and then my shoes.
So this is
the moral of my odes:
twice beautiful
is beauty
and what is good is doubly
when it is a case of two
woolen socks
in wintertime.

Ode To The Lemon

From blossoms
by the moonlight,
from an
aroma of exasperated
steeped in fragrance,
drifted from the lemon tree,

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Chief Editor  

Rati Saxena

Dr.Jayasree Ramakrishnan Nair

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