Dylan Thomas – Portrait by Gianpiero Actis (Italy)
Dear Poets/Poetry-lovers,
International Dylan Thomas Day is celebrated every year on 14 May. As a representative of Immagine and Poesia (founded by the patronage of Aeronwy Thomas, daughter of Dylan Thomas) and upon the approval of the main organizers and consultants, UK, I am conducting International Dylan Thomas Day 2025 online.
This year I am conducting a collaborative poetry-writing with a group of poets. Each poet will contribute 3 -8 lines and we will create a single poem together.
I invite poets who are interested to submit a maximum of 8 lines to:
vatsfrankness@gmail.com
Theme : Poetic sea
First lines of poem:
Words-Waves
Amidst the sea waves echo blue, green, orange, grey words locked in seashells carrying centuries of inspiration born in a second, grown gradually, dead- blurred momentarily but phoenix-reborn singing poetry’s immortality – Vatsala Radhakeesoon
[A poem written for my birthday in August, reflecting on my four decades of life. First published in ‘The Space Ink’, October 2021]
Dear August-born, Do not be the burning sage as you Sit on the bed soaking in the morning sun And the washed remnants of your dreams Of the night gone by. Instead, just hang on To your wrinkled sleepwear and do your laundry Listening to the hollow whispers of the washer.
Dear August rain, Do not hold on to songs in your head That can never turn into a hopeful refrain A delectable orchestra. Instead, bolt the doors Carefully when the thunderstorm breaks open Into your pastures, echoing your birth-name That everybody forgot, including you.
Dear August-queen, Do not forget that ‘queen’ is just a perfunctory word And it gives you no privilege in a world where You have floated in a dark, tepid sea of pettiness, betrayals
And there is the sweet, sacred ambrosia of love But loveless evenings, lonely strolls in sidewalks gave you succor.
If only you can thank the August rain, The road trips with false lovers, The unflattering mirrors, the ditched playgrounds, The old notepads of burnt poetry, the stench of abuses, You can embrace your fire and ember. You can be the revolution, the upheaval, the threadbare dance You can be the defiant poem, the silence of ruffled nights That you’ve always dreamt of being.
Lettre à moi-même
(Un poème écrit pour mon anniversaire en août, s’agissant d’une réflexion des quatre décennies de ma vie. Première parution – Space Ink, Octobre 2021)
Chère Native du mois d’août, Ne sois pas la femme sage trop brillante quand Tu te réveilles au lit berçant le soleil matinal Et les étincelles brumeuses de tes rêves d’une nuit achevée. C’est mieux si tu te réjouis de tes tenues de nuit froissées et fais ta lessive En écoutant les murmures vains du lave-linge.
Chère Pluie d’août, Ne te laisses pas berner par les chansons qui ne fleuriront jamais en refrains d’espoir Un merveilleux orchestre. C’est mieux si tu verrouilles les portes prudemment quand l’orage crie dans tes prés, répétant ton nom (nom de naissance) que tout le monde a oublié, ainsi que toi aussi.
Chère Reine d’août, N’oublies pas que Reine n’est qu’un mot superficiel Et il ne te privilégie guerre dans un monde où tu t’es pataugée dans l’obscurité, dans la mer agitée de mesquineries, de trahisons
Et il y a la douceur de l’ambrosie sacrée de l’amour Mais les soirées dépourvues d’amour, les balades solitaires sur les trottoirs qui t’ont sauvée .
Si seulement tu peux remercier la pluie d’août, les trajets avec les amants imposteurs, les miroirs insultés , les terrains de jeux abandonnés , les vieux carnets de poésie brulés , l’abus toxique Tu peux accueillir ta flamme et la braise . Tu peux être la révolution, le bouleversement, la danse démodée Tu peux être le poème révolté, le silence des nuits ébouriffées dont tu as toujours rêvé .
A River Within Me
[First published in the anthology titled ‘Reverse the Rivers’, edited by Geetanjali Dillip]
A river within me knows all my high tides and low tides, The sun’s birth, descending on my banks and the sundown Melting my fiery skin into dark forebodings of death, and rebirth. A river within me knows my light, motion of time And my fallen moon at night, the hungry, volatile dance As I spin around my moist, sacred space, like a child Spinning inside the womb, waiting to be born. A river within me is the smell of my elemental lust As I become the ruthless watcher, my bank made soft With tears of throbbing life, of funeral pyres.
With the river within me, where do I go? Converge with the sea of garrulous memories, shrink or grow? Take in all the fish coming up for air, all red embers That turn to grey ashes? The river gushes right in, Settles within, slowly, with its waning moonlight, its eager darkness, Its placid body, its secret, superfluous chatter, its keen onlookers. The river scampers, smells inside me, I lose myself In its body like daily offerings of poetry and surreal passages. A river within me fills up and swells, and I become Its wind and melody, its continuum flow, like birth, death and rebirth.
Une rivière au fond de moi
( Première parution dans l’anthologie, intitulée Reverse the Rivers, éditée par Geetanjali Dillip)
Une rivière au fond de moi connait les hauts et les bas de ma vie, Le soleil levant, descendant sur mes rives et le soleil couchant Fondant ma peau brûlante en sombre pressentiment de la mort, et de la réincarnation. Une rivière au fond de moi connait ma lumière, l’écoulement du temps Et ma lune vaincue durant la nuit, affamée , danse fugace Comme je tourne autour de l’humide, l’ espace sacré , comme un bébé se tournant dans le ventre maternel ,attendant sa naissance. Une rivière au fond de moi est l’arôme de mon désir élémentaire Dès que je deviens l’observateur impitoyable, ma rive devient sensible par les larmes vibrant la vie , des bûchers funéraires.
Avec une rivière au fond de moi, que signifie cela ? Se confluant dans la mer de souvenirs loquaces, se rétrécissant où se grandissant ? Prenant tous les poissons en quête d’oxygène, toutes les braises rouges qui deviennent des cendres grises ? La rivière jaillit tout droit, se refuge, lentement, avec son décroissement de rayons lunaires, son obscurité curieux, Son corps serein, son secret ; sa conversation superflue, ses passants attentifs. La rivière se détale, sent au fond de moi, je me perds dans son corps comme des offrandes de poésie et d’extraits irréels. Une rivière au fond de moi se remplit et se gonfle, et je deviens ses souffles du vent et sa mélodie, sa continuité, comme la naissance, la mort et la réincarnation.
Lopamudra Banerjee est auteure, poétesse et traductrice de Texas, USA. Elle est auteure de neuf recueils de poésie et six anthologies de fiction, non-fiction et de poésie. Elle s’est vue discerner les prix ; Journey Awards pour ses mémoires Thwarted Escape : An Immigrant’s Wayward Journey, The International Reuel Prize for Poetry (2017) et d’autres prix littéraires. Ses poèmes ont été publiés sur les réseaux de grand renom, tels que Life in Quarantine, the Digital Humanities Archive de Stanford University. Ses derniers œuvres sont intitulés The Bard and his Sister-in-law (translation) and We Are What We Are écrit en collaboration avec Priscilla Rice, 1er Prix (catégorie Poésie), New York Book Festival 2024.
Translated into French and Kreol Morisien by Vatsala Radhakeesoon
French Translation:
Sonder
Each person you pass on the street, holds the strange beauty of a strange life
We all breathe the same air, and will die without it.
Avoid narrow-tipped assumptions causing you to fail to invest the time to know peculiar characters, rough hewn and angular, who enjoy the talents of spontaneous, unplanned actions. Some leading a saintly life on reverent missions, others bearing subdued pain kept inside.
Many individuals have skeletons in their closet that dance for them.
Indeed, your own closet also bears your tales.
Sonder (Constatation profonde)
Chaque personne que vous croisez dans la rue, porte une beauté étrange d’une vie étrange.
Nous respirons tous de l’air en homogénéité, et mourrions tous privé de cela.
Evitez des idées restreintes vous sombrant de mieux connaitre les êtres uniques, grotesques et cultivés, qui se réjouissent des qualités naissant de la spontanéité, des actes libres. Certains menant une vie sainte berçant des missions bénies, D’autres refoulant la souffrance au fond de leur cœurs.
Nombreux sont ceux qui ont des séquelles dans leur placard murmurant qu’à leurs oreilles.
Bien sûr, votre armoire y cache vos histoires aussi.
Bird Landscape
We enter walls fortified by disillusionment that belongs to us all. A distressed area, where portable gravestones lie prone, and the silence indicates signs of fatigue from trying to conceal the purpose of this place, a retreat into wretchedness while listening to artless stories from the gravedigger.
But, place bird roosts atop these same walls, and watch the spirits being placated, observe the enriching effect as time goes on, as an amazing array of coloring bursts forth, birthing new keen awareness of these surroundings, as if seeing this environment for the first time, projecting a new view of white marble.
View this space as it becomes a living landscape, a remarkable place, where birds, hopes, dreams, and prayers can fly.
Scène d’oiseau
On pénètre les murs ancrés d’illusion qui nous appartiennent. Un quartier déprimant, où les pierres tombales portables demeurent susceptible, et le silence démontre les signes d’épuisements en essayant de masquer le but de ce lieu, Un refuge en désespoir en écoutant des histoires simples racontées par le fossoyeur.
Mais l’oiseau du voisinage se perche sur ces murs, et regarde les âmes apaisées, observe l’effet enrichissant (profond) au rythme du temps qui s’écoule, comme un mélange de couleurs s’émergeant , créant l’enthousiasme d’explorer ces environs, tout comme découvrant ce milieu pour la première fois, projetant une nouvelle scène du marbre blanc.
En accueillant cette espace comme un paysage vivant, un lieu captivant, où les oiseaux , les espoirs , les rêves ,et les prières peuvent s’envoler.
For Teri With Regard To Bill
She always speaks to him. Tell me how you’re doing she says.
It’s claimed there is no return journey. It’s stated that time only flows in one direction.
Then why does she hear something other than surf when she listens to seashells?
Pour Teri au sujet de Bill
Elle lui parle constamment. « Dis-moi comment vas-tu » demande-t-elle.
C’est déduit qu’il n’y a pas de retour. C’est spécifié que le temps s’écoule dans un sens.
Mais, pourquoi entend-elle d’autres bruits que celles des vagues en écoutant aux coquillages ?
Kreol Translation:
My Crowded Bed
Every night I fall asleep with them: The living, the dead, all old friends, family.
They come when my dreams call them, or they show up uninvited on the front porch of my mind, where they knock or ring until I answer.
Some have been there for so long. These feel so comfortable just making themselves at home, settling in.
I can spread my limbs out as much as I want, but the bed is still so crowded. I’m surprised the mattress has not grown saggy.
Yet, for all my complaining, I hope they keep up the knocking, and the ringing because they are the ones I love, and they help me endure the dark.
Mo lili ankonbran
Touleswar mo andormi antoure ar zot: Bann vivan, bann mor, tou bann vie kamarad, bann fami.
Zot vini kan mo rev apel zot, ou zot aparet kan zot anvi lor lantre mo lespri, e zot tape ou sone ziska ki mo reponn.
Ena ti la depi lontan. Sa rekonfort zot kan zot santi zot ansam kouma dan zot lakaz.
Mo kapav repoze komie mo anvi, me lili la touzour ankonbran. Mo etone ki matla finn vinn las.
Mem si mo fer repros, Mo swete ki zot kontinie tap laport, e sone parski se sa bann dimounn la ki mo kontan, e zot ed mwa fer fas lanwit nwar.
,
A New Day
Upon the broken shapes of dying sunbeams, there is reflected the promise of a new day.
I am discovering the stability of petals. Where there was once heatstroke and thorns, there’s now sunshine and roses, growing from the promise of a new day.
It can be hard to realize one’s true orbit, to stand next to silver banners that only occasionally fly, but I’ll throw myself into maximum effort toward the promise of a new day.
Enn nouvo zour
Lor bann form kase reyon soley febli, ena reflexion lespwar enn nouvo zour.
Mo pe dekouver stabilite petal. Kot ti ena sesres e pikan, aster ena soley e roz, ki pe grandi avek lespwar enn nouvo zour.
Li kapav difisil rekonet nou vre plas, debout akote bann banners arzante ki zot fer anvole parfwa, me mo fer mo zefor maximum pou akeyir lespwar enn nouvo zour.
I’m a writer/poet and an artist and I’ve been into poetry -writing for more than 30 years with 18 books published.
I have launched Women Poets read in August 2024 . The aim of this online reading event is mainly to encourage women poets to voice out through their poetry.
I will be conducting the first session of Women Poets read for 2025 in March.
Details of the poetry reading session are as follows:
Title : Women Poets read
Date : 8 March 2025
Time : 19h00 (7PM) Mauritian time 10 AM EST
Venue: On Zoom (online)
Fee: Free/ No fee
Theme: Feminine Strength
Poetry style : Any , provided decent language is used
Number of poems to be read : 2
After the event the poems read by each poet will be published in written or video formats.
Links to join the event will be e-mailed to each poet upon acceptance of invitation.
For further details please e-mail me to: vatsfrankness@gmail.com
If you wish to have your poetry chapbooks, poetry books, children’s books (prose and poetry) translated from English to French French to English Mauritian Kreol to English English to Mauritian Kreol please feel free to send them to :
vatsfrankness@gmail.com
Translation Fee: U.S $0.08 (Rs 3.73 Mauritian currency) per word
Translation of Individual poems may also be considered. Please send 5-12 poems if you wish to have a small number of your poems translated. Those poems will be published on my blog.
I’m a writer/poet and an artist and I’ve been into poetry -writing for more than 30 years with 15 books published.
I have launched Women Poets read in August 2024 . The aim of this online reading event is mainly to encourage women poets to voice out through their poetry.
I will be conducting the second session of Women Poets read in November.
Details of the poetry reading session are as follows:
Title : Women Poets read
Date : 16 November 2024
Time : 19h00 (7PM) Mauritian time
Venue: Online through Zoom/Google Meet
Fee: Free/ No fee
Theme: Any
Poetry style : Any , provided decent language is used
Number of poems to be read : 2
After the event the poems read by each poet will be published in written or video formats.
Links to join the event will be e-mailed to each poet upon acceptance of invitation.
For further details please e-mail me to: vatsfrankness@gmail.com
Richard Doiron, Canada’s Peace Poet, bilingual (English-French) has his works in print over 60 years. His poems have been published in hundreds of paper books, anthologies, periodicals and personal collections. He is also the author of novels, biographical works, essays, and lyricist (several songs recorded). He is a graduate in journalism and is a Certified Lifeskills Coach. His work has been read at the United Nations University for Peace, Costa Rica and published alongside a dozen Nobel Prize Winners by invitation, including the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela, and Desmond Tutu. His works have been translated into all major languages, UN 2000.) His writings have been showcased at the John Lennon Peace Tower, Reykjavik, Iceland. He is a participant in local, national, and international literary festivals He has been awarded 2012 Lifetime Achievement Award ,winner with World Poetry; 2017, Lifetime Achievement Award with Pentasi B World Friendship Poetry; 2017 nominated for “There is a Winner in You”, Lifetime Achievement Award with ARTeryUSA, nominated by James Pasqual Bettio, former senator in the California Senior Legislature, twice nominated for the Governor-General’s Award and Canada’s prestigious Griffin Poetry Prize, nominated to the Order of New Brunswick, Canada 2019. He was also nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, 2019, via Dr. Epitacio Tongohan, the Philippines. Named LAUREATE OF THE IVAN AIVAZOVSKY INTERNATIONAL LITERARY AND ART PRIZE 2022 (Ukraine- USA-Germany). He has posted poems online daily for 23 years in a variety of groups around the world, showcased in media on an ongoing basis on radio, television and in print. His most recent recognitions have been July 2024, Yugen Quest Review: WE Illumination Award 2024 (Poetry, Participation, Inspiration).
Here are three poems and a short story by Richard Doiron:
Prophet Tears
Were we attuned to prophet tears for what they are when one appears, a mantle worn like none before because, by God, there’s always more for us to learn, the truth revealed, in increments, therefore to field such deep design, as field the few, no doubt we’d weep like prophets, too!
Ancestors Dance (Sonnet #5100 in series)
Ancestors dance upon each blade of grass the fields alive for everyone to see and dreamers dream to see paraders pass their eyes now cast upon that family tree.
Ancestors dance upon the mountainside the hills alive for steps upon the stone and dreamers dream such dreams as coincide with things that are (if are too little known).
Ancestors dream whereas the rivers run the streams alive for gurgling that is heard and dreamers dream the dream has just begun as will be dreamt forever afterwards.
Ancestors dance upon the dashing dawn, let dreamers dream the dream is dancing on.
You Dream a Dream
You dream a dream of sunny days of butterflies while music plays of loving arms that hold you tight of roses red and starry nights and memories made that take you there
You dream a dream of precious things of promises and wedding rings of kisses sweet like vintage wine of chemistries when they combine from heaven high an answered prayer
You dream a dream of something more of tranquil times an end to war of poetry and works of art of loving words that touch your heart with not a place but there’s a friend
You dream a dream of peace on earth of minds that merge for all they’re worth of kindness done in every deed of famine gone for all we feed with thoughts like these that never end
The Day Habib Picked Fariba Roses
Where the roses grew unimpeded and in fields far-flung in their abundance, Habib, the son of Mohab and of Moraza, picked with a most exuberant zeal the six choicest roses his eyes chanced to focus upon. Not far in the distance Fariba, beloved of his heart and soul, would soon enough accept from him his gift of roses. This she would do with as much reverence as if she were the grateful recipient of a poet’s most sacred and celebrated offerings…
“For you, my dearest Fariba, the six roses the field of plenty have surrendered unto me,” said the jubilant Habib, his heart racing feverishly, his eyes gleaming with the light of love, his mind reeling in the realization that the accepting hand was the hand of manifest destiny. As for his soul, it was now soaring across the eternal realms of majesty and mystery.
“Oh what joy, Habib! What utter joy you have infused into my heart this very day, this day whereupon the angels sing as if there were no tomorrows in heaven!
“Be it known that in these roses I perceive rainbows and rain, as I likewise perceive the gracious wings of butterflies and bees, sharing with those their eagerness for the heady brew which permeates the field, that very field whereby your hand so eagerly plucked this bouquet now assigned to my board. Oh Habib, from off my board, from out that earthen vase, now holding your gift of roses to me, there now emanates the soulful song imparted to the ambassadors of love by the summer wind when it springs across the valley in the fullest heat of summer.
“And of this very room itself, truly has it become as the shaded sanctuary that affords the giant cedar when the sun is ablaze overhead, and the body is in need of respite. My eyes briefly closed, I hear in this, also, the gurgling sounds of the spring which sprouts forth from the earth to quench the thirst of the weary wayfarer.
“Oh, Habib, what more might I, Fariba, daughter of Rahullah and of Keshvar, say to you, my dearly beloved, with regards to these flowers?”
That day, Habib, son of Mohab and of Moraza, had his many thoughts, and flashed his many smiles, as likewise did his beloved Fariba. No, he was not a poet, no more than was his beloved Fariba a poetess. And yet the two lived their glorious and golden moment, as lovers have forever done and forever will do. But that day, as destiny would have it, it was the poet, Pouya, the searcher, who was a witness to it all. And it was he who lived their loving thoughts and he who assigned the gleam in their hopeful eyes and the smiles upon their loving faces to the pages of tomorrow and of all the tomorrows that ever might follow.
I’m a writer/poet and an artist and I’ve been into poetry -writing for more than 30 years with 15 books published.
I will be launching Women Poets read in August. The aim of this online reading event is mainly to encourage women poets to voice out through their poetry.
In each session , I will be inviting 4-5 poets from different countries to read 2 of their poems and share their views about poetry.
Details of the first poetry reading session are as follows:
Title : Women Poets read
Date : 10 August 2024
Time : 19h00 (7PM) Mauritian time
Venue: Online through Zoom/Google Meet
Fee: Free/ No fee
Theme: Any
Poetry style : Any , provided decent language is used
Number of poems to be read : 2
After the event the poems read by each poet will be published in written or video formats.
Links to join the event will be e-mailed to each poet upon acceptance of invitation.
For further details please e-mail me to: vatsfrankness@gmail.com
Here are 2 songs sung by Reza Dulymamode , singer of Belizean Diving Resort (Duo music band):
Hours of Abstention
Song for Karine
About the music band:
Belizean Diving Resort is the musical project of Reza Dulymamode and Thomas Grimaux who have been friends since their teenage years in Pessac, near Bordeaux (France). Their songs represent a lo-fi, minimalistic form of folk music focusing on emotion.
I have the pleasure to share the French short movie Karine at the music store (2024) featuring Mauritian radio host/journalist, actor, poet and musician, Reza Dulymamode.
Thank you Reza Dulymamode for allowing me to include that movie for World Music Day 2024 on this blog!
Vatsala Radhakeesoon Writer/poet/Organizer
Karine at the music Store (Short movie – French)
Directors: Jérémy Sulpis , Reza Dulymamode Producer/Editor: Jérémy Sulpis Voice over: Reza Dulymamode Also starring: Thomas Grimaux, Lucile Milien
Vatsala Radhakeesoon Poetry, Prose, Translated Works 