Saturday, 24 July 2021

WEB MAGAZINE. GHORSOWAR . ঘোড়সওয়ার ওয়েব ম্যাগাজিন

ঘোড়সওয়ার- Ghorsowar
 Editor. Nihar Ranjan Das

 Siliguri. Darjeeling. India .


            Shaswati Chartterjee

                      ( India )


This one,

This one of mine

Comes before you

In my birthday robe

With limbs uncovered,

Joints delicate and curves exposed,

Tresses unpolished

And valleys unfogged,

Parts too clear to visualise,

Hints too prominent to speculate...

First, you feel like falling,

Then you praise 'nd exaggerate,

You start knowing my bends and moles,

Even in closed eyes you can identify my spots Brown or black,

You get regular with my charms and dullness,

My flaws grow simultaneously with my delicacies in your critical eyes one day,

My veils are removed permanently.

Now I am as known as the nude fairy that dances in the moon over the fountain near your cottage

Whom, once in your boyhood, you used to worship in great amazement

And now, you often forget to look up at down your busy lane...


With the mystery revealed,

The patterns known,

The charms missing,

The excitement faded

Your interests faint and

I stand shameless with nothing new to observe,

Nothing novel to explore.

An antique illusion comes up to fill the void in vain.

Here you might end up 

Or else I start a journey inward 

For here I use up all my earthly techniques 

To capture you and your senses vulnerable...

A blunt figure now I stand apart 

Exhausted in the waiting chamber

In your luxurious premises.

Here you might give up on me

And I take control over something too remote and inaccessible till now.

Here you might venture out leaving me behind

And I simply transcend...

I throw my fleshly bondage forever,

I discard all voluptuous indulgences,

I rise above what makes me stale and dead one day.

If some day, you feel what I do,

Please come and meet me there, my love!

Just for once, I wanna be immortal with you.


          Miroslava Panayotova

                       ( Bulgaria)

Grasses of The Night.

In the grass of the night,

in the sleeping mystery,

in the expiring pencil

near the blue notebook

I outline the sunset

of the coming summer,

of the smoldering sweet

noon of the grass.

In the grass of the night,

I can see the sunrise

with the smell of milk.


               Gerlinde Staffler

                          ( Italy)

Winged Beats

Take my soul by hand and lead me 

Where cheerfully we can fly on feathers

Of mad pleasure of sweetest leisures

Swaying gently through time united as we.

Let's fill our glances with serene laughter

And elate our hearts to heaven's throne

In a world of warmth we'll never feel alone

Then happiness will write a new chapter.

Guided by a tender fragrance along the street

In this hour, bowing to love, we rise

Wrapped in a golden amber of sunrise

In a noiseless tumult of winged beats.


                 Daniela Marian
                      ( Romania)


Angelic face, your legs limped
Look in the mirror of the waters
His eyes are chimerical and curious
The sense nostalgically adores the scent of the rose
Today we will see his magic
Your mind competes with your soul
Your brain has pieces of information
You put them impressively in words and lyrics
How beautiful I drew you
Be smart and wise
The universe is in your memory
It has the largest library of books
And love letters from adolescence
You protected the pantries with sheet shelves
They are made of cut trees
They sacrificed themselves to write with a pencil on the pages of the lyrics
They are the books masterfully placed by the pencil of the soul
You look at the library in your room
It is endless in your mind, a masterpiece
The covers are covered with glossy parchment
It's from the Pagoda Tree
Look for him and hug him
Are you planting a tree too?
It will help Ozone so that you can breathe fresh air into your lungs
It is the Tree of God
He drew the blue of the sky with its green branches
He painted white and gray clouds
They are caught in the rainbow with their wings projected on the desk pencil.
He rose into the air and a wing fell on the dry trunk of the pagoda
He needs a cloak of young trees
How do you relate to volunteering?
Entire forests have disappeared without meaning.
Rich-illicit, you drank from the gain of cutting down trees
Your own children will judge you.
You will die as the character in the "Hagi Tudose"
( End of 1st part . Nihar Ranjan Das) 


  1. Thank You so much, for promoting my poem in your exceptional literary magazine! May God bless you and give you a lot of strength in this literary activity and in the rest of the constructively positive concerns.

  2. How to participate or how am I be able to send my poem to you.

    So, that, it can be featured in your magazine