Fragrance Vol 1 Issue 4 & Volume 2 Issue 1

Managing Editor/Founder: Waseem A Malla, Beerwah J&K

Editorial Staff: 1. Ms Shalini Samuel, Kanya Kumari, TN

2. Dr Sunil Misra, New Delhi

© Ira Joel Haber

Editors’ Message .............................................................. 3

A Dreamy Cottage ............................................................ 5

A Home Built Moving Onward To A New Home To Be Build ......................................................................................... 7

Sun vs Moon ..................................................................... 9

A Memory In Time .......................................................... 10

A Simple Family Abode ................................................... 11

An Untold Story .............................................................. 12

Around the Round Oak Table .......................................... 13

Distant Memory :Ricordo Lontano ................................. 15

Metamorphosis .............................................................. 16

God's Whisper ................................................................ 17

Dream House .................................................................. 18

Highrise Dweller ............................................................. 20

Dream ............................................................................ 22

Invasive .......................................................................... 23

My Dream World ............................................................ 24

Hands ............................................................................. 25

Tsunami of Night ............................................................ 26

On the F Train ................................................................. 27

Smoke ............................................................................ 28

La Vita Sommersa - The Submerged Life ......................... 29

Undress .......................................................................... 31

Editors’ Message

It is my immense pleasure to present you this issue of

eMagazine ‘Fragrance’, poems combined from the

submission calls of our 4th

& 5th issues which we could

not bring out as separate due to some technical hiccups

on our part.

You would be glad to know that Fragrance has

completed one year of successful publication and I, as

the Managing Editor, would like to thank my team of

editors, Ms Shalini Samuel and Dr Sunil Misra for all

their efforts and for investing their time and resources in

this venture.

Our thanks are due to our contributors, for their regular

poetry and photographic submissions, which have kept

us going all along the way. Without your love, support

and trust, Fragrance would have just been an unrealised

dream, gathering dust in some unknown corner of my

mind. Thus, it’s just you who deserve the credit for all

the progress we have witnessed in the past one year.

Lastly, I dedicate this issue to all our readers who have

been following us on our blog. We are anxiously waiting

for your valuable feedback on this issue. Moreover, stay

tuned as we are bringing out a full volume of all the

poems published in our eMagazine ‘Fragrance’, Issues 1

to 5.

Thanks again to every reader and contributor. We hope

you will extend your love and support to us as you have

been doing all along the past days, since the inception of

this eMagazine.

Regards

Waseem A Malla

Managing Editor

Fragrance poetry e-zine

A Dreamy Cottage

By Praveen Gola

Over the Mountains,

A Snowy smoky wintry weather,

Looks like Heaven.

Under the caves,

Birds are chirping chitter-chatter,

sounds like Patter.

Down the hills,

Green lush trees hugging others,

like newly lovers.

Sun is shining,

behind the dark grey clouds,

passing light sunbeam.

Fruits and flowers,

enlightened with shiny silvery ray,

just romantically play.

A small cottage,

inside the lush green garden,

made of bamboos.

Snowy covered roof,

warmth the room with Grate,

with scented fragrance.

Twinkling of bells,

Praying God in deeply thoughts,

A dreamy cottage.

© Ira Joel Haber

A Home Built Moving Onward To A New Home To Be Build

By Roy Mark Corrales

Being born to a humble abode where familial love is

garnered;

the pursuit in development of his or her own being

enriched.

Parental and supporting relatives cherished in making

things realized.

The babe becomes a toddler into a young adolescence

into adulthood reached.

The conflicting problems and everlasting triumphs

unveil;

The nourishment of body and spirit is further enhanced

to reveal

the path of trial and error till reasonable perfection is

unearth;

in furthering spirit makes its collective movement to

reach.

The building of peaceful and admirable familial home

resound;

The echo of yesteryear child now a builder of new

family resonate.

the fulfilment of the grandparents in bringing up their

children now as adult relive;

in order to bring home a bacon of tomorrow rooted in

heart of peaceful abode rekindle.

Sun vs Moon

By Koyel Mitra

The fire ball shines brilliantly,

An aura of scintillating radiance permeates.

It's robust shine glares at me.

I do refute its superciliousness,

The domineering attitude invokes hatred.

I cherish the night star gleaming,

With a splendid smile it gazes at me.

Playind hide and seek with the flocculent clouds,

It waves at me amiably and heartily.

Its lovely, inviting face laughs at me merrily,

Thus soothing and appeasing my frayed nerves.

I wake up every morning with dreamy eyes

That burn brightly to ashes,

Only to rekindle my fancies in the still repose.

A Memory In Time

By Cristy Upshaw

The moonlight shines within my window,

Leaving traces of the night's silhouette,

The slight breeze whispering through my mind,

As I lie here alone in this scented room,

Thoughts of you drift to and fro,

As the day's events unfold within,

My heart races with the smile on your face,

As I touch my lips with my two fingers,

Feeling the traces you left behind,

Of the moment we got lost in time,

A cherished moment to never forget,

A love that, which now is only a memory,

I could never take back the words I said,

Nor would I even if I could,

For you hold the key to the chamber of my heart,

Knowing full well you can come and go as you please,

Time possesses the love that we share,

For it's the only thing that can tell,

When we'll be together once again,

To be lost in each other's realm of longing desires.

A Simple Family Abode

By Roy Mark Corrales

Having an abode where harmony, peace and prosperity

embraced this home.

Today simplicity is indeed a cliché what is essentially

necessary versus the luxury of things

what modernity demands in any home today.

Accessibility in every part and parcel in making meal to

be delightful and wonderful for every family home;

members of the family share in every ups and downs in

every aspect of everyone’s life.

Responsibility and Respect for all persons and other

things as it is created for goodness and prosperity

assimilate in every counter from pantry to the room

which every person is respected for his or her

contribution in the family home.

Dialogue, rapport and shared responsibility prevail in all

aspect in this humble abode. A simple humble

respectable, ample rapport in dialogue levels where

problems are solved in a well discussed and decided for

good of entire family abode.

An Untold Story

By Simran Kaur

Diffusing ethereal radiance of serene

The vastness of azure heaven to preen

An inspiring profusion in air of cryptic

In air of Cryptic?

An untold story it sustains along

That seems perpetual and prolong

Hidden in smoke in mist an untold story

Perhaps, the life's abstract fact

Assumptions are they who lead to its tract

Where many stories began each day

Of our egotism, arrogance and useless fray

A desire to be supreme when kindles

Drifts you back in an obscure brindle

An oblivious assumption against the mightiest power

Known for the destruction and massacre

The mightiest of all the might; the Time

With its very reign every story prime

turns inconsequential and an untold crime.

Around the Round Oak Table

By Joan Leotta

Around the round oak table

Revolves our nightly show.

No matter how fast the daily grind

Over dinner, we take it slow.

No masks at this venue.

Entertainment for all.

Set the table, Pour the water,

Serve the food, Pray!

Let’s Eat! Curtain’s up! Dinnertime!

Equal billing to food and talk

Freely passed round the table

Pasta, salad, meat fill plates as we

dish the day’s events,

hopes, highs, lows.

a cacophony of topics--

Simpsons… Buffy…

Death penalty… test scores…

George Washington and golf!

When plates are empty, hearts are full.

Long after the sweetness of dessert is a memory,

Words continue to be served up in hearty portions

In Elliot’s rooms “the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo”

Around the round oak table, love is spoken—loudly, and

by all.

Distant Memory :Ricordo Lontano

By Terrence Sykes

Sometimes on late autumn evenings

in the damp early enveloping darkness

plane engines break the sky

crashing waves of interstate roar

trains cry on distant tracks

bringing a cargo of memories

taken back

to that little

Italian village

we made love

while it rained

all afternoon

fragrance of quince drifts even now

through an open window from the grove

Metamorphosis

By Koyel Mitra

Exhuming myself from the remains of

my past, I find nothing but depression

crushing my heart and piercing my soul.

Like a ghoulish dream passed those gloomy days --

an avalanche of sorrow, making tears

roll down my cheeks, drowning my battered soul.

An unbearable emptiness in

my heart, I groped for a ray of light in

my lonely melancholy.

Then a sudden aura of cognizance

surrounded me as I read through the book

"Kathamrita", enlightening my mind.

I was startled at the transformation

of my soul that turned a

new leaf, making me sprightly and cheerful.

Now, armed with true knowledge, and

spiritually purified,

I fail to recognize

my once dismal self.

God's Whisper

By Cristy Upshaw

Surrounded by the night

a shimmer of light revivified

a gasp of midair—respires

the manifestation of purity

Lamenting for God’s whisper

that brushes the tears—effortlessly

from the indulgent cheeks

of an isolated, angelic ambiance

Blanketing the heart's core

In the epicentre of a misplaced soul

the warming of divine incidence

encasing life—with HIS immense love

Dream House

By Tribhawan Kaul

Dream house, dream house

Housing my home,

Where

Narrow lanes lead to wider roads

Chinaar and poplar in frontal rows

beckon me just to roam.

Blowing of conch shells

waking up with temple bells

morning azaan also soothing the souls.

Casting spell, a chirruping sparrow

leaves follow breeze across window

majestic view of majestic dome.

Lovely children playing with granny

story telling becomes so much funny

carved balcony is left to adore.

Basking under rising sun

warmth of heart spread to every one

relations of ours never sour.

Cacophony of celebrations, fascinating

hallmark of jubilations, reverberating.

gupp Bacch/Bhand* & Henze# galore

River flowing down the bridge

breathtaking view over the ridge

music to ears with shikaras** abound

The house of my dreams

Evolving in thoughts

If wishes be horses

Could have ridden by now

Fate ordained it to remain a dream

But dream I must

For impetus it gives and the thrust

To pursue.

Dream house, dream house

housing my home,

where

narrow lanes lead to wider roads

chinaar and poplar in frontal rows

beckon me just to roam.

© Tribhawan Kaul

Highrise Dweller

By Tribhawan Kaul

Mornings and evenings witness

commoners of different hues

caste, creed, colour & age

jog, walk, yoga or meditate

groups of female folks assert also

with warlike maneuvers

learning the tricks of karate & judo

and the joggers’ park

shines in the form of oasis

amidst the concrete desert.

Giving eyes a treat, towering residents

wowing the architectural marvels around

but devoid of health concerns

keeping their windows open

simply to crane and watch

the images of dwarfed movers below

pondering upon advice of health gurus

yet thinking it a total waste

being on high pedestal, boasting

‘they aren’t missing anything?’

Introspection brings them down

to feel and experience

the smell of freshness

the chirping and tweets

the sound of breeze

the rush of blood

the rustle of leaves

the peace of mind

the romance with nature of different kind

new awakening dawns.

Surrounded by faceless concrete high-rise

the lush green park

rejoices

watching homo-sapiens

respecting its existence

for their own existence.

© Tribhawan Kaul

Dream

By Ndaba Sibanda

I dream of a better village

That will not fall victim

To abject poverty again

Because leaders could

Not care less

I dream of a better city

That will overcome the ills

Of unemployment and corruption

A city whose resources will not

Be looted and vandalized by outsiders

Because of politics of prejudice and malice

Please let there be lights again in that royal city

l dream of a country whose name will never be The

Ruins

A country whose all citizens will be treated with respect

and love

Invasive

By Cristy Upshaw

Faceless reality percolating

Through the cracks of futility

Waves of triviality—eternally

carpets the sorrow of what existed

Traipsing paths collide aimlessly

weaving a soul's—icy breath

Sunbeam derives tardily

exposing truth's web of lies

Weeds of past events—treads

upon the shadows of blossoms

Forming doubt of primed growth

in a once flawless garden

My Dream World

By Koyel Mitra

I miss now the coos of the doves perching on olive

branches,

Happiness has eluded me but I am chasing it like a

mirage,

Oh where are the soft chirpings of the birds at dawn?

Have they been effaced out in this chaotic world, a world

of commotion?

Oh do I see blood there is that my hallucination?

No, it is not, I see mutilated bodies soaked in blood

everywhere.

Did I ever hear the word called humanity?

How can human beings murder their brothers without

hesitation?

Is there no mercy, sympathy or compassion in this

world?

Don’t their hands tremble or hearts palpitate while

committing such crimes?

Where has love vanished? Does it exist only in

gratification of carnal pleasures?

I truly seek the evergreen love and celestial bliss in my

dream world.

Hands

By Steve Klepetar

He came to her with hands of rain,

translucent offer glittering

in noonday sun. Head bowed he came,

hair scraping his forehead, eyes dim

with the pleasure of her windy face.

Her hands flutter aimless as swans

who feel a restless wind’s cool beckoning.

She shows him her heels, plows fingers

through the air, swimmer reaching

out for some far shore, where sea

maids cry raw-throated songs and gulls

plunge along the fiery edge of fallen light.

Tsunami of Night

By Steve Klepetar

Birds were silent and disappeared.

All morning darkness

gathered, rolled in clouds like knuckled

fists. Leafing trees shuddered

into blackness,

window lights blinked on and children cried

for bottles and clamored for sleep.

Outside a blanket on the world, plague

of physical dark, substance viscous

and gloomy, mist or fog –

distilled obscurity, cheerless and sad.

Concealment as the heavy

breathe in our lungs, hidden and unknown.

Sirens wailed, smoke and ash in the backwoods.

Has it come to this, a tsunami of night?

Where Is your radiant hand, your brilliant

necklace of lights? What has extinguished your blazing

eye?

On the F Train

By Steve Klepetar

Acrobat’s vain leap

across the aisle of this crowded train.

Pitch and roll, a rudder

broken

loose and a rough

mutt howling in flurrying

snow, Lexington

and Fifty-ninth

street three days before

wild grapes flush with wine:

an image of a man

on his knees, dice

knocking

against brick, and black spots

swirling from the cup, leaping

bludgeoned with awe into the frozen world.

Smoke

By Shruti Goswami

The deep throated kiss,

Tasted of half burnt cigarette,

And some smoky feeling,

Just like old days,

When the smell of half burnt coal,

Smelt delicious to the nose,

Harbinger of good food,

Now just some distant dream.

I buried myself more deep

Into the kiss,

Immersed in a sensuous flow,

The world of smoke and cream.

La Vita Sommersa - The Submerged Life

By Terrence Sykes

un piccolo grande amore

that’s all it was suppose to be

a summer love

a mere vacation fling

old enough to know better

young enough not to care

that little pensione

with paper thin walls

coming so far

to settle or resurrect

a score

of years ago

kneeling in this little

chiesa on no tourist map

praying while his memory

preys upon me

searching

scouring my soul

until the soles

of my feet ache

evening arises

as once again

my heart submerges

into the venetian lagoon

Lost In Another Country by Terrence Sykes

Undress

By Shruti Goswami

Everyday, you undress me,

In your thoughts,

My traditional mind,

Bordering on conservative;

Detested, protested;

Yet surprisingly; never resisted.

And now,

Everyday, I undress me,

In my thoughts,

For your thoughts,

And undress those thoughts,

Traditional, to be or not to be,

Bordering on insanity.

Fractured by Terrence Sykes