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  April 2014
volume 11 number 1
-table of contents-
 
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  Scott Alexander
  Shawn Aveningo
  Jonathan Beale
  Jack G. Bowman
  Betsy Burke
  Matt Burns
  Shibani Chattopadhyay
  Rachel Coventry
  Tyler Dupuis
  Allison Grayhurst
  John Grochalski
  Hedy Habra
  Samantha Henderson
  Augustus Invictus
  Natalie Itzhaki
  Scott Jacobson
  Alex Johnson
  Mikel K
  Craig Kurtz
  Phillip Larrea
  N.M. Leepsa
  Anthony Magistrale
  Brendan McCormack
  Christopher Mulrooney
  Philip ONeil
  Ebi Robert
  Walter Ruhlmann
  April Salzano
  Jake Sheff
  Rishan Singh
  Julia Stein
  Allen Taylor
  Paul Tristram
  Wanda Vanhoy Smith
  Claire Walker
  Viola Weinberg
  Claire Williams
 
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Rishan Singh
April 2014
   

 

bio


photo by rina rose

    Rishan Singh was the recipient of the 2014 eThekwini Municipality Library Award. He is also the recipient of the Golden Key award for excellent academic accomplishments, awarded to him in 2008. His poetry has been well received locally as well as abroad, and is often praised for its irregularity, which is sometimes poetic, and never rhetoric.
    During the 2014 awards ceremony held by the KwaZulu-Natal Department of Leisure, Parks and Recreation, he was selected into the top 20 entries,and eventually made the top 5, which included South Africans of different socio-economic backgrounds. He received praise for his poetry on many occasions, and was a participant in the Sol Plaatje Poetry Award competition, sponsored by the European Union on two occasions. In the United States of America, his fiction writing appears in books, and is often lauded for its creativity, although not entirely poetic.

   

 

Mother's Day

I’m gone old now,
and not a day goes by
when the memories of my mother
don’t resonate as an experience
every Mother’s Day,

buying cards or wrapping gifts a week earlier
and me using my paint-colored fingers
to draw her within a heart, my heart
pulsates at her feelings of what I had done
in the few days at age 5.

I wish I could go back, go back
go right back to that age, an age
when the feelings for my mother
brimmed in her beautiful, grey-browed, eyes
amidst my boyish ego.

Still being my hero
my mother was still my hero –
with my inflated ego and all –
she’d cook to feed me like now
and as I’d move away,

breaking away from the parent stem,
I’d be a weed, a seaweed
being fed upon by clams and seahorses
like a family’s backbones
are fed upon children.

I remember circling my mother
the way she’d hold me like God.
I know I can’t repay
the hand-fetched filled bowls, honing and nurturing
because everyday’s Mother’s Day.

copyright 2014 Rishan Singh