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


The changes that are taking place in every aspect of life are so rapid that it is not easy to feel or comprehend them. Language and literature are the worst affected areas in this respect. The amusing thing is that it is not easy to sense the changes in these areas.....,
In films which demand the service of the senses of sight, hearing and feeling, our language and expression becomes multi-dimensional. I feel if we include all of these faculties in our languages and literature, we can win back the glory of the written word.
Rati Saxena

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The day I was busy
settling the bills
of the oncologist, who
treated my ailing father,
my son celebrated silently
his seventeenth birthday
with his friends.

Manu Dash
It is Politics
Clad in handspun stuff
Invariably worn by
All animals alike

Array of symbols
Invites unrest
Images die in nest
Poems in chest
Aboo Backer

The old Chinese painters
made landscapes out of air.
All it took was an ink stone and time
to look at a rock until it was a mountain
and grew into a range stretching across a continent

David Chorlton
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No other art besides poetry has had such a mythology attached to its sources of inspiration. Painters have no myth of Helicon, the sacred spring whose water brings inspiration. Dancers have no Pegasus to ride, composers no Mount Parnassus to climb. Everyone knows that "the Muse" is a poet's companion. Why do poetry and poetic inspiration hold such a special place among the arts?


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Oh I know God waits for me in the palace
But I am busy with his garden roses
Dazed, fiery, I take to their cool nectarine pastures
Forgetful of the closing skies


TDisappeared into his shadow.
The man without a shadow.
The shadow had a person.
Don't let your shadow find another person.
Escorting our shadows we take them where they want to go.
Folding his shadow on his arm he went.


Mani Rao

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Which shouldn’t exist
In this world,
The one who forgets
Or the one
Who is forgotten?
Wishing to see him,
To be seen by him,
If only he were the mirror
I face each morning
Don’t look up
By yourself
At the sky where stars meet,
The wind from the milky way
Blows cold
Come quickly,as soon as
These blossoms open,
They fall.
This world exists
As a sheen of dew on flowers.
Which is better,
the distant lover you long for
Or the one you see daily
Without desire?

Japanese poems
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VOL - 1 / PART - 10
(March-2006 )

Editor : Rati Saxena

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