Showing posts from August 14, 2016

THINK about this simple notion…some of us desire to live in the skin of others

OK.  Let’s get real.  We all (well, at least a significant number of us) have fantasized about living the life that some celebrity, friend, or family member enjoys. While these desires probably do not approach coveting under biblical strictures, we project and then try to keep those thoughts or actions as private as we can. So, here is the question for the day.  How many of us fantasize about the life of a writer?  Gotcha on that one, heh. We enjoy the words, the creativity, the manner in which writers bob and weave, intersect and juxtapose words, sentences, paragraphs and meld those characteristics into a piece that changes our life. And there is Tara L. Marta . Scranton, in northeastern Pennsylvania, United States, is a city “at the center of the Lackawanna River Valley…nestled between the Pocono and Endless Mountains.”  Scranton exhumes nature as evidenced by “Nay Aug Park designed by Frederick Law Olmstead, and [the park] includes a zoo, museum, two Olympic sized

Being home in the throngs of creative restlessness and peace

When do you read poetry?  I suspect many of us read fiction on the beach, riding on public transportation, before falling asleep with the novel on our chest or lap, or with morning coffee instead of the morning’s delivered newspaper thrown haphazardly towards our doorsteps. I may be wrong, but poetry brings forth images of sitting in a rocker with a multi-colored designed throw or blanket covering part of our body.  Enjoying a cup of herbal tea with the tea ball resting on a side plate, maybe a plate of cookies to nimble on, or the warmth of a sifter of brandy with recessed low lighting to reflect shadows in the room.  Of whispering the words of the poem infused with the cadences of soft speak to a loved one as that person seeks solace in our embrace, the sweetness of the spoken word.     When do you read poetry? Identify that ambiance setting for yourself, and when the next issue of aaduna comes out, nestle into your “spot” and read Ayendy Bonifacio’ s poems.  In

Of Bahurupis, Us, and “Afghan Girl”

So what does a Bengali author who is currently based in Columbus, Ohio do? She does what she is destined to do…learn, discover, broaden her creative horizons, stretch her intellectual capabilities, and grace aaduna’s pages with her poetry. Torsa Ghosal (photo provided) Torsa Ghosal weaves thematic stories in the poetic tradition to captivate and embrace her readers.  She brings a sense of intrigue and subtle mystery to the interactions of her characters.  And I know you are wondering about the term “Bahurupi.”  Ms. Ghosal states, “ Bahurupis are quick-change folk artists who beg on the streets of Bengal, India .”   To whet your appetite for what is to come, enjoy the first few opening stanzas of “Bahurupi or Polymorphous:” When the bus brakes on National Highway 34 between Calcutta & Berhampore I decide to worship Lakshmi because I would have the owl, her mount, bring wealth. Running long hauls that stray dogs out of breath I long to sit cross-le

Exquisiteness in the line

I suspect paintings and drawings start out with the simplicity of the line.  That demarcation that kicks-off the journey; a suggestion of what is to come; the essence of the idea that continues to germinate in the artist’s mind; the guidepost to a visual manifestation. The line. Subtle, eloquent, form in its simplicity.  The line. I often wonder what the “trained eye” sees that eludes most of us.  The minutia in the details…the angles, curves, swirls, and yes, the elegance.  And yet the “casual eye” is the portal to the observers’ soul, the chord that holds true to our wonderment when we see something that moves us.  Captures our spirit.  And the totality of our being is better off for that experience.       And then when “the line” intersects, meets, challenges, and complements “the word,” there is magic.  There is synchronicity.  There is Marianic and Jean-Pierre Parra . Marianic Parra (photo provided) Jean-Pierre Parra (photo provided)