‘Both happiness and sorrow never stay.
This is what indicate the stars and the Moon.
Time matters to all of us; that’s why
Oft I stay and at times fade away too soon.’
‘Both happiness and sorrow never stay.
You once told me that you didn’t believe Rome burned in a day because great things don’t fall apart like that. So when you held my hand and promised to hold everything that comes with it―sunshine and storms― I believed in you. I let you in with all the trust I could ever give. You did not rush me with my walls and so I put them down. When you asked about my scars, I told you their stories without holding back the ugliest details, and you kissed them all to heal. For the first time, I felt infinite. It didn’t matter if I would forget writing sad proses, even if that’s what I’m good at.
Author Christian Towers began writing stories at the tender age of nine. That was also the age he began creating short comic books incorporating superheroes and other types of action heroes of his creation. ‘This eventually flourished into a love for films and film making. Also, I decided to become a director of films when I grew up at about the same time. Despite opposition from the family, the dream persisted several years. However, as the years passed, and when I entered high school, I felt what mattered to me was not so much making films but being a storyteller in general. That is when being a film director became less important to me, and the author life grew more appealing,’ the Florida-based author, who hails from Puerto Rico, begins, speaking to the Literary Express in an exclusive interaction.
I can’t believe December’s here;
This year’s been like a bad dream.
From Covid to typhoons to floods,
things have gotten too extreme.
Angered, Belittled, Chagrined, Depressed
By Christina’s Demanding Eyes,
Charlie Did Everything Flagrantly:
Dancing, Eating, Fighting Guys.
Eyeing Friends Gamble Houses
For Ghastly Hemp, Ice,
‘God!’ He Iterated ‘ Justified?’
Poet Nirmal Parashar’s writing journey began with a quote he had read in the book ‘The Light of Asia’: Leave love for love of lovers. ‘This powerful quote has only remained etched on my mind since I read it,’ says the poet, speaking to the Literary Express in an exclusive interaction. He tells us that because he was an introvert, he used to spend more time with books than with friends during his school and college days. ‘Nonetheless, during adolescence, the curiosity to understand the word “love” became intense,’ he states with a smile, adding, ‘And although I was hardly familiar with this, I was curious to know how it feels to love and be loved.’
Coordinates require input, chance comes accidentally,
Rendezvous a meeting point, you do saunter aimlessly.
Vector an interception course, we cross paths randomly
Anticipation is foresight, I never imagined such beauty.
Cold moon flows
our love sick fantasies
sculpts desire of swallowed fame
oh, long lost symphonies!
Curtain falls on blazing seduction
slaying us over and over again
lighting the dark, curse upon us
until shadows remain.
You’re tormenting me like a restless, malicious spirit I can’t be rid of. You shall be an ever-present reminder of my cowardice, of my original nature long-lost and yet too, a beast discovered that’s forever concealed in me; one that hungers, thirsts, craves.
Once lived a proud and happy prince
in a palace too grand and fine.
‘Bout sadness and pain he knew not;
He knew to drink from nine to nine.
Waking up to the lazy winter sun,
Perched on a tree sings a lark.
Lives seem indolent and lethargic,
Snow falls softly while the day is still dark.
If only I knew where the sky begins,
and were I only ware of where it ends;
I’d state how many stars incandesce here
and also ’bout each thing that our earth tends;
The answers I shall give with no defense.
Author Morwenna Blackwood avers she doesn’t recall ever starting to write. ‘It’s just something I have always done,’ she begins, speaking to the Literary Express in an exclusive interaction. She goes on to state matter-of-factly that the first proper story she wrote was about a frog. ‘And that was when I was six years old,’ she tells us with a smile.
As the hour of dawn
Ever more imminent did draw
The lofty celestial expanse
Eschewed the tired robes of night
And discarded the redundant attire
Look to the east, to the symbols of destiny drawn on Tyrrhenian bunting,
Pirates approaching, rapaciously scavenging; eager for something worth hunting,
Seeing the sight of the youthful immortal they roar and express their elation,
Truly the gods must have favour for sons of the mighty Etrurian nation,
Brought to a landing and leaping like fishes,
Seizing their hostage, their motives auspicious,
Beauty so boundless, a body so healthy
Signals the son of a kingdom so wealthy.
It was indeed the mountains
that obscured him while he traversed the planets;
The Sun reflected by many rivers
did keep him warm while the unending sky
studded with zillions of bright, colourful stars
complemented the beauty of his soul.
When season gets cold and souls colder
Tears freeze before reaching a shoulder
Stories of summer feel older and older
And a weather of solitude starts.
The night pulls in
And the sun makes way for the moonlit sky
October’s golden sun has said its last goodbye
And winter’s chill swirls in the breeze
Shaking the last remnants of Auburn from the trees
Lights in houses glow in the evening air
Shimmering black pavements, under branches bare
Children in soft woollen warmth to the chin
Kicking fallen leaves, the cold blushing their skin