All posts filed under: Magic

‘All The Worlds Between’; a collaborative poetry project between India and Ireland

All the Worlds Between is a collaborative poetry project bringing together poets from India, Ireland and in between. Their writing partnerships resulted in four strands—poems as conversations, poems at angles to one another, poems which speak out of turn to other poems in the group and, not surprisingly, stories of friendship.   The poets looked at questions of home, belonging, identity, exclusion and homogenisation. From conversations about shoes and what they evoke to exchanges about parents, poems responding to the transgender experience, to inward angled poems and even chain poems created stanza by stanza over email and WhatsApp, through all of these the poets found themselves eavesdropping on a collective consciousness, ears to the ground listening for the beat of life.   Contributing poets: Adil Jussawalla, Aditi Rao, Áine Ní Ghlinn, Alvy Carragher, Anne Tannam, Arundhathi Subramaniam, BeRn, Christine Murray, Claus Ankersen, Daniel Ryan, Fióna Bolger, Maurice Devitt, Menka Shivdasani, Nandini Sahu, Nita Mishra, Ӧzgecan Kesici, Rizio Yahannan Raj, Sampurna Chattarji, Shobhana Kumar, K. Srilata, Sue Butler, Swarnalatha Rangarajan, R. Vatsala.   Edited by K. …

‘Sequence after Celan’ by Gillian Prew

Sequence after Celan 1 Spring: trees flying up to their birds where the sun is the seeds are freed their small sound a wound like death watercoloured and open each foliated lung with its breathing understory the climb of springtime into the loud light sky filled with dove-coloured words 2 the climbed evening is thick with lung-scrub a nocturne of oxygen of spring sillage the raising of the dead and their flowers the night deer with hooves of heather the precision of an owl in *rooted darkness in the tangled bramble a knot of blood 3 water needles stitch up the split shadow-he fights his way deeper down, free rain wholly itself a breathing torrent hitting the half-lit a million microdazzles a mouse mud-buried a blinking scut the fluency of a softer death a spring nothingness a heart-smoke 4 in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air up the sky bitten open the sun exhumed clouds bud and bloom with roots of rain 5 All things, even the heaviest, were fledged, nothing, …

Patterns of Sensation – the bodies of dolls by Salma Caller

Silk Velvet Purse Doll Tiny invisible stitches hold rivets that hold rivulets Of silk ending in the darkness Where dreaming continues The sleeping and dreaming of her invisible body Silk Velvet Purse Doll   A mille-feuille A body of a thousand layers A thousand gauze tissues A thousand substances Concealing a darkened chamber Entombing A heavy velvet pouch Profligate sensual reclining body feeling inwardly Reaching caressing touching exploring the textures of the inside of a dark and empty space Where nothing is also everything A costly ornate body of sensation Silk velvet skin silk thread silk tassel nerve endings Silent silken hair spreading A dense and tactile embroidery surrounds her slits tips lips edges and borders Wires closely over-sewn create Her ribs Brushing stroking heating and burnishing Made a body that is close textured lustrous gleaming and smooth Intricate and laborious twisting and twirling of twines Tiny invisible stitches hold rivets that hold rivulets                        Of silk ending in the darkness         …

Four Poems by Rus Khomutoff

I wear you under my skin. Your hydra cadence sweet spot Sanity assassin of the nothing agency With words as instruments of rapture Mediation prompt   Constellation of intentions, a gradient of realness in contaminated tones Jilted designations and counterpoetics Stabs of conscience off the easel Absorbent minds…the dark enlightment’s lamentable tragedy Certainty is now my watchword   Mystagoguery, a bleeding edge of obsolescence A face of genius in full measure of the spectacular now Catharsis daily-mother tongue of method and black squares Words vetted out of nowhere Deadbeat doth The new cult of consensus   The famous devil of a perfect vanguard. Fascinated by the river that is knowledge. Circumstances that come in to stay-miles from our mephitic place. High and low extensions on the threshold of meaning- sonic intimacies   Read a sample from Immaculate Days by Rus Khomutoff here. My name is Rus Khomutoff and I am a neo surrealist poet in Brooklyn, NY. My poetry has appeared in Erbacce, Uut Poetry and Burning House Press.Last year I published an ebook called …

“Consumed” and other poems by Gillian Hamill

Clarity   So still It had to Come to the fore I could feel The tears drop And drip down On to my leg Fully-formed droplets I could count rain In the still Stilled mind forge chatter The sadness had nowhere to go But out. Canal Walk Home What is it About the power of the water To heal hurts Three lads sit on the boardwalk They hardly look like delicate sorts. And yet they gaze out Contemplate The rushing rippling mottles of the Undulating lake Can soothe souls. Car lights are reflected in Striking streaks, always dappling Buzzy thrill of Modern pyrotechnics In the most basic of Science laws. Edged by banking sycamore leaves I took one and put it in my pocket To describe it better. The smell of its earthy salt and bark Present. And the bare elegance Of stripped black branches Spearing themselves into the night air Soldered into the genesis Of life And yes they are Wild quiet. A little further on There’s a piece of street art says Only …