Feet on land Heart in clouds Head lost in memories
I play tunes of regrets on my saxophone And the nectar of love remains a craving
Pleas sent to the skies for an immortal existence Laden with the warm gaze of my muse As he shall play for me, songs meant to wake me up From the slumber that he imposed upon me
Feet on land Heart in clouds Head dancing between the two worlds Imagination and reality play dangerously Games meant for lovers solely
A white rose, I seek to be tainted red Coloured with hues of passion So deep that their stories shall be recounted of in secret!
Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby.
Une chanson perdue dans ma tête, Une vie égarée dans des souvenirs brumeux, Une pensée, Un sourire caché, Un secret… L’amour, perdu mais promis Pour la prochaine vie !
Succomber à l’amour, Un dieu, une image gravée dans mon cœur, Un million de papillons en vol… Aujourd’hui, je me sens comme hier, Quand nos visages ont rougi Et que nos yeux parlaient en silence
L’espoir se lit dans le réconfort de tes bras, L’aube nouvelle sera teintée de ton nom. Un instant perdu, peut-être, Mais qui sera retrouvé, Le jour nouveau
Succomber à toi, Après avoir résisté à tes chants Qui n’ont cessé de faire écho à mon nom
Succomber à toi, Comme le soleil qui se noie dans l’océan au crépuscule
Succomber à toi, Un frisson léger dans mon âme, Mon but, ma force, Mon espoir !
Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby.
Sometimes I pray for that little boy that was never mine I smiled at him as he tugged at my long Indian skirt In a desperate attempt to attract my attention, his arms glistening with slime As he begged for a few coins, his shivering body oblivious of all hurt
I pray for that little boy with big dark eyes, so forlorn Watching him milling around the market area With its display of splashy items, leaving no spot unadorned That his heavy heart so desires, his life an innocent inertia
I pray for that little boy, whose sight has become a comfort to my distant gaze I give him what I give best, a kind smile Oh yes, some food too, but words and more, to level him in his haze As we feel each other, both thrown into some sort of exile
I pray for that little boy, whom I haven’t seen since a long time now Earnestly hoping he is not in harm’s way I have grown grooved to his presence, surprising myself somehow I did not even ask for his name, he must surely be strolling some other alleyway
Sometimes I pray for that little boy that was never mine I stopped going to that area, as I bled through the years For things that ought to be, but never were, shimmering crystalline It is strange how life throws people at you with whom you sync instantly, no demur
Yes, I pray for that little boy that was never mine He is probably a young man now, as I try to picture him As the fog is nestling itself deeper and deeper into my mind For each day that unfolds, brings me some pieces of an answer that is still spinning
Sometimes, I pray for that little boy that was never mine I am staring at a fish pond, its clear waters whispering to me A sweet whisper that touches only those who are not blind As my heart slowly releases the little boy, in an unmatched harmony
Biography
Aneeza Soobadar loves reading and writing poetry and short stories in both English and French since her teenage years. For her, writing is a way to connect to the essence of life and its people, as we navigate this increasingly digital world.
Certainly, faith and trust are what hold us In this maze of life, so dark and circuitous. As human beings we often pass through tamasic phase When our minds are as good as in haze Added to uncertainty, with hearts painful, Words or behaviour of our closest ones so hurtful. We desperately need the tonic of faith, healing, Comforting, assurance bringing.
Indeed, like the majestic cedars of Lebanon, a must It is, to have steady faith and trust, To reign in our minds, to invite peace and beauty, Yes, freshness, as the pristine, ever green Ooty or Manali, Or KodaiKanal, to act as the stimuli, The beacon of hope, and to keep the spirit, Uninterruptedly lit.
Thus, the holy scriptures, preaching Love, hope and faith, are so reassuring, In our mundane lives, As honey plentiful in hives. Otherwise, we would have been miserable, pessimistic, With dreary moods, victims of panic, Uncertainly, mistrust, loneliness, Dejection, utterly affected by hopelessness.
Pushmaotee Subrun studied in Delhi University, worked in Zimbabwe and Mauritius, and is currently an editor in the Ministry of Arts and Cultural Heritage. She is the author of: ‘Ella’, ‘Who is Your Best Friend?’, ‘Short Stories and Fables’, ‘A lyrical bouquet of Soulful Poems’ and ‘Dreams to Reality’. Very soon, her next anthology of Poetry will be published by Inkdew Publications. Her poems have featured in prestigious online magazines. She was selected by ‘Destiny Poets’ as Poet of the Year – ICOP Awards 2019. Her poems feature in several International Anthologies. Lately, she was honoured by Gujarat Sahitya Akademi. She was honoured with the prestigious title of Poet of the Year in 2022 by Inkdew Inkdew. She was among the most favourite 3 World Gogyoshi organized by the founder of world gogyoshi, Taro Aizu.
The slope is tiring I have been diligently struggling The top of the mountain is called bliss My eyes scotched to it I keep trying to reach its peace Yet, I could not anticipate myself Breaking into pieces, tearing myself up From the depths of my heart Wanting to keep focused on the summit Yet, wanting to be touched by the magical fireflies once again Wanting solely the intoxication and the play of emotions As they invade my mind, writing poetry on the walls of my sanctuary And creating ripples in my sleeping pond Breaking up from the inside Swallowing myself up from within Drowning in my own starry sparkles Seeking only a moment to explain To receive and to hold on tightly to forgiveness As a fully bloomed flower, Fragranced and shining so bright that simply by gazing at it The whole world would be dazzled!
A primary school educator with the craft of writing as hobby.
Finesse to write, giving my old heart a passionate beat.
.
Shall I believe then that growing old is a fallacy,
A privilege denied to so many?
This precious time available now to read, to write poesy,
To reflect, to love, offering thanks to the Lord Almighty,
Going on holidays, adventurously,
Visiting my dream places, admiring
The beauty of this universe so alluring,
So very ravishing!
A miserable life it would have been,
Leaving so much enchanting beauty unseen,
Always toiling and moiling,
Whining and ultimately dying!
.
It’s fine, I am growing old physically
But active mentally,
With some intellectual awareness,
Seeing the drama of life all pointless.
Why then, let me welcome wrinkles,
With mirth and laugher meet all the freckles
Showering love and empathy,
On those, for love and care hungry!
Yes, the hunger for bread is not so scary,
As the hunger for love that can be dreary!
If my old frame can still fill me
With compassion, I feel simply lucky.
Pushmaotee Subrun studied in Delhi University, worked in Zimbabwe and Mauritius, and is currently an editor in the Ministry of Arts and Cultural Heritage. She is the author of: ‘Ella’, ‘Who is Your Best Friend?’, ‘Short Stories and Fables’, ‘A lyrical bouquet of Soulful Poems’ and ‘Dreams to Reality’. Very soon, her next anthology of Poetry will be published by Inkdew Publications. Her poems have featured in prestigious online magazines. She was selected by ‘Destiny Poets’ as Poet of the Year – ICOP Awards 2019. Her poems feature in several International Anthologies. Lately, she was honoured by Gujarat Sahitya Akademi. She was honoured with the prestigious title of Poet of the Year in 2022 by Inkdew Inkdew. She was among the most favourite 3 World Gogyoshi organized by the founder of world gogyoshi, Taro Aizu.
Tender eyes gaze at me mischievously Catching my breath as the sight of storms do Swirling me in a private symphony: A secret world made of roses, so blue
Love not consumed but growing in large bloom Is sure to be carried to the next life Love such as this never do bring in gloom For adorned it is with seeds of pure faith
Tender eyes meet and clash in warm silence If love is not consumed, it remains pure And life becomes a poem in a trance Lovers wait for the next life, with allure
For the good is rewarded all the time The wheels of fate turn with a divine chime
Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby.
Poetic Delicacies from Mauritius 