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
 

 (ISSN 0976-514X)

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These days a word is becoming very popular, that is, "positive energy" everyone is talking about this energy, sometimes I feel that this word has become more popular and dangerous than atomic energy. Hang bells at your door; keep the table in this corner, bed in that comer, get up in the morning, smile at your own face. Do not look at bad things; the list goes on and on ….

My worry is that the slogan of positive energy is teaching us to keep away from dirty or bad things. It isn't giving the message to remove evil, but to keep away from evil. Keep away from the so-called bad things, and if at all you have to look at them, keep distance. Keep your home shut, so not even a signal of negative energy will dare to enter into your life, it is your life, not the society's.
I am not against positive power; I just want to know whether we can completely avoid this so-called negative power? Does it mean we should not think of the poor, about our people who are in trouble? Does it mean that we should not think about the numerous problems and difficulties in the world today?
Rati saxena
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Misanthropic
Antisocial
Urticated
I escape casual chitchat
Insufferable to myself
I'm a hen forced to interrelate by caress
They can dupe me with anything
Blocked by com-passion against these bars
At four chitchat's over
In the lose a turn space
Wearing the urban uniform washed and ironed just yesterday evening
By the warm and competent bodies of silent cats
That sleep
Bringing folds of dreams of cat food and gardens
Into vulnerable buildings
Talking suffocates me it pastes itself on it dries
It's humor, serum, pollution
ELIANA DEBORAH LANGIU
*
Father mine who art in heaven stay there
don't return to earth because there is war here.
I had hoped that you would be the one to atone
that I would be the one to pay in this life
for every war crime with your life.
That I would be the one to make amends with your loss
and bring peace back here on earth.
FRANCESCA TINI BRUNOZZI
*
and
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Poetry as an art form and musical expression predates literacy as it was integral to ancient oral traditions and rituals across the world. In common parlance, it comes across as a literary creation wherein the beautiful or sublime are evoked without the compulsive onus of engaging in rational thinking or resorting to narrative rendition. That does not mean that poetry is illogical and exists only in the abstract realms of feelings, emotions, imagination and fantasy. Poetry may also contain elements of philosophy and science; it can remain intensely personal or be overtly political. The engagements with language and time in poetry are also so varying; one can tap the subliminal and abstract possibilities of language or dwell in the mundane. Poetry may reinvent history; critique the present and prophecy the future. A poet may be concerned about one’s times and mindful of history, or intend only to confess the innermost feelings and experiences through verse. Poetry may give the reader a taste of personal ..Bini B.S.
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To Be
To be dew-drenched
in the moonrise
of her body

Nude
She couldn't cover
her nudity with beads of perspiration,
with kisses everywhere
from head to toe,
with the play of love.
She covered herself,
somehow,
with her own bashfulness
with the petals of her own desire.

Hand
Even this joy will be unbearable-
the hand holding
the whole of creation
contained in miniature within the flower.
This flying of a single straw
Becoming the dream of a nest in the sky.

In the darkness
that hand held
in the other's
reluctant, hesitating
withdrawn
The flash
of a light-like space
and it disappearance
some day even this joy
will be unbearable.

Nude 3
She's a mirror
Not she, her nudity-
it's herself that's reflected in it.
Youth beholds
its own opulence in that mirror.
Beauty gazes
at its own exquisiteness.
She's a mirror
not only she, her nudity...
The sky, unveiled
in night-darkness
is its own mirror.
Ashok Vajpeyi

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Bulleh! to me, I am not known

Not a believer inside the mosque, am I
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharaoh

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s intoxicated craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Bulleh! to me, I am not known

Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
Not in stillness, nor on the move

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

I am the first, I am the last
None other, have I ever known
I am the wisest of them all
Bulleh! do I stand alone?


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VOL- V / ISSUE - 12-
(June-2010)
 

Chief Editor  

Rati Saxena

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