K V Dominic's maiden collection of short stories 'Aaraanu Utharavaadi' is published by Authors
This is Dr. K. V. Dominic’s 7th poetry collection in English. Out of the 43 poems in this book 9 are on Covid pandemic. The first poem “Coronavirus, Mightiest Wizard of All Times” runs to twenty sections. The themes and topics of the rest of the poems are as various as Nature, environment, animals, plight of farmers, sex workers, slum dwellers, karma, religion, tributes, elegies, social criticism, etc. As Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya states in his foreword to the book, “K. V. Dominic, shut up in Kerala, sings hymns unbidden hiding in the privacy of the glorious light of compassion till the world is wrought to sympathy with hopes and fears it hidden not. And it appears that the main theme of poetry in this volume is nostalgia or homesickness.” The book is published by Authorspress, New Delhi is 2011.
The book is available though amazon. The link is:
Ezhuthoo Makane Ezhuthoo is K V Dominic's maiden collection of Malayalam poems, published by Authorspess, New Delhi in 2022. Selected 76 poems from various English poetry books of K V Dominic are translated by Shri. Madhu S. The book is available though Amazon. The link is given below:
Stephen Gill's Sufi Sonnets
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnets are his swan songs. He has been publishing these sonnets one after another through his Face Book when the Almighty called him back. In his website www.stephengill.ca he had listed it as a book entitled “Seventy Seven Sufi Sonnets of Stephen Gill” but unfortunately it is not downloaded now and shows that the page doesn’t exist. As a close friend and fan of Stephen Gill I have been going through his Face Book posts, particularly these Sufi Sonnets, and commenting on them. I have copied some 19 sonnets from the Face Book pages and they are posted below: (K V Dominic, editor)
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 58
I had planted blessings when I seeded the maple of our love. Someone appeared to confirm its syrup is unprocessed nectar from the mother if you would handle the plant with care closing the door of selfhood that brings skies to earth cementing the link of friendship. Also it is the sun that gives light to walk your talk and embrace strengths. As a heroic diet its sap nourishes to remain cheerful. The psalms in the leaves of its tree hide the secrets of the peace to share that lets life thrive. Its taste keeps dreams sweeter and more alive.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 57
The grapevine with unleavened bread of new Passover spurs me to chariot the golden bough of the first gleam of freedom from our acutest pain. Yawns after the peaceful yawns I lay in intense passion in the lawn lined with the oldest olive trees. You are my love for the garden that buzzes with apostolic bees and my esteem that is the softness of sweating and supremacy of the seas. Secured within cloistered walls away from prosaic ploys I sip from the cup that restores our fellowship. Under the covenant of my dining hall now crafty reptiles shall never crawl.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 56
I garden to offer fresh roses to you. As I rightfully water their fragrant spell radiates me and the obvious appearance of their unrivalled beauty brightens me. I grab sticking thorns becoming their fallen petals living and dying for you. The dignity of their soothing hue is my mastering mania and their sunny sight lighten when I write. They make me sing and cry. To humble my pride their energizing gaze enters into animated dialogue as a saint or a sage. In the pagoda of truth and faith you are the bounty of the bride at best, blessed and benign.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 55
Crazed creatures of dark delights have chased our dove to a distant land where they choke her songs by the strings of paralyzing fear in the wilderness of their illusive sphere. On their sand the blind brutes write macabre laws whose spectre stalks here. Its teeth mangles the serene sparrow of my higher self. Let us pass this evening listening to a nocturnal crescendo from the bird not afar. In the silken cocoon of your touch my innate flair shall easily thrive. Our love shall become the pulse of my new rhythm in the night as the time idly flies.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 54
No bird or butterfly. Flowers lack fortitude to fragrance the grass. Dry willows remain tied to their roots fearing what nature safely plies to finish her function. The forces of rain have absolutely failed to abate the memories of our ambles. Brutal gusts are shaking trees but our bond is the unshakable lea where the pelican wings rest in peace. In the album of days my lyrics on your unfailing solace shall survive. I wait for your mighty return with the tears of anticipation that make me utterly alive. To suffuse fully in you I stay for that mighty sight.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 53
The night’s yard, where a nerve-wrecking fog has weakened my vision, stabs my tingling calves. Raising head I often clash with walls. Broken and bruised I blink at the half barren branches where the silence of the solemnity reigns. The light on the road asks who owns this house muddied with madness? I notice eerie emptiness above the front door of my failing love. I turn slowly to sundry rooms, drifting dreamily thinking of your triumphant return. I carry hurts mostly from the dirt of lies. I cannot borrow your breeding, even buy, though hope ascends for despair to die.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 52
My passion in my literary bents batters winter’s blind brutes to cherish fidelity for you. It stems invisible tears, not because daffodils die but is the sun that shakes the pieces of familiar mist to easily see you. My passion is the wind that burbles as my non-delusive peace that is the diamond under compression to foster perfection. It structures the tower of trust in our meaty toughest tie. Out of the musty rooms of the fables it watches how the leaves brush ripples as people walk by. My strongest ultimate ally it is born to live, not to lie.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 51
The arms of the Ambika and the paradise of my euphony you respire properly on pearls and pure milk of my art. Your motherhood encourages me to relax in the invincible summer of the seaside resort within me. My love grows boundless when you are with children in the swings and the birds trilling along the calm river that waters the plant of my pervasive energy. I salute when I sight you. Your culture of action taps my sources for rejuvenation to let my stress go. In the unclouded zone of Canada geese you reign as elevated soul of peace.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 50
Out of the cage of dark drudgery I wander along the bank starving for your presence. Waves play the rhythm of every rainbow of my persistent prophecies and the perennial memory of the portraits of our perfect ecstasies. I remember the relic in the cellar of the time where our love lives with deserving honor and thrill. The river’s closely embracing whispers sincerely stage our story. The sound of Shankha from the shore asks me to fill the emblem of rituals with the sandle-paste of your smiles. In the longest thick weary night you are my untamed desire of delight.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 49
You enliven the larks on the sloppy lawn where they run making lisping notes. I see you jogging slow and fast on the narrow windy path along St. Lawrence where your dignity moulds the Maple leaves. You appear behind the bridge as adornment of majesty in orange and yellow images. Also in the air that casts off the weariness of the aged sages. You are the honk of the geese and the goal of the balm I spread through my psalms. With the stunning sepals of the tulips I exalt you in the luster of stars doing my daily task.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 48
I see our love flowing effortlessly as a waft with the drifts of freedom, fusing with the effulgence of the vastness. In the night of my ceaseless voyage you shall remain my ultimate aim. It is pleasing to add and know you are my abiding flame. The Laurentian vista is your glimmer in the waves. I celebrate heaven on earth in a richer way my gem to show there is nothing we cannot together grow. For my longing to receive energy I rely on the roots of your liturgy. You accompany my sacred sail to provide through the wandering gale.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 47
Night knocks noisily at the door when I hear the rattle of volcanic fury from the traders of terror. They shape with inhuman creeds strangely structured maniac beings while our seraphs securely sleep on the roofs of snobbish breed. Sweetest is the bread that tastes the days of the comforting peace. With the hunger that nourishes sincerity in love I wait for your return on a stallion to address my concerns. Because of the frightening beast I swap the days of my ease singing sagacious psalms for you. For me, a nomad in fields, you own all what I need.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 46
As the daybreak drinks the wild air caressing delicate flowers with care I espouse my thoughts for you. In my innovative simple songs they meander as streams with the waves of no pains which merge travelling by meadows. I gyrate within to marry your true lime-laden name thirsting for its inner calling that flows the inspirational symphony of diamond painted waterfalls. In the haven of our mystical love fresh buds abundantly blossom into deathless tunes of the blessed dove. I see you elating in ravishing aroma. While you frisk in woods and plains I hear your whispers here in rains.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 45
I relax with no special thoughts along Saint Lawrence River where I hear stunning coos which remind mystically of you. I sleep peacefully on the moon with my sight on stars. They are not vague though afar. When they go I will see them once more like you, I know. They are camps in the hive that give reasons to be alive as I do for you. You stay in the nest of my safest hope that I keep in the cave of my passion and trust. It energizes my open approach to see you even with my eyes closed.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 44
The hermitage where I blandly burn to radiate your light is coming to a fuller life. The bird on its roof sings to celebrate my faith in euphony, while with a harp in hands the wind softens the rudeness of my personal melancholies. At the Autumn’s cozy cottage that can be passed unnoticed, I stand with a tornado in my pot to run miles before the candle fazes out. You are the wailing of the mother who is gifted with unshed tears to give hope. The upper pivot of my pride; you prime me to win my unceasing sacred fight.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 43
Meet me often when the moon is guiding birds with silver light in the dark night and flowing waters confide with the infinity of wonders. The bathing pebbles shall narrate our undying courtship and town flippant laughs. Authenticity shall not drift even if the coldest draft hits. Shame is just a name and falter ferocious foe. It is neither I nor the ink this poet needs to paint his unclouded creative vision fears the gust and dew. The stunning lily of our oneness shall always grow joyful and new. Our bond is the unspoken ocean between coasts to share unfrozen.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 42
Your concerns like that of the mother untangles my irrational knots when I host the saddest thoughts walking along St. Lawrence bank. I see the sun rotating blissfully on the tourist boats. My fascination begins to glow when I see you whirling like planets in these merging ripples. I ask to tell me how in peace they flow. It is your lyrical face in their rhythm which I am committed to show. You are the lure of their pebbled shore that for me grow before their spell plans to go. My loving tide, you’re the veil of a blessed bride.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 41
You are the galaxy of the sober sky that has planted its presence in the rapturous Saint Lawrence River. Canada geese sing of their extended ties in the arms of its unruffled waters chatting as free tides whose culture of the Beaver vivify the energy we solidify. When I look at the trees I think of your radiant warmth that asks me to dance. The pattern of their shadows so revived, comforting and alive, are the pristine purity of your undiluted regimes where beauty burst through seams. Every leaf of the Maple talks of the pleasing tapestry of our walks.
Stephen Gill’s Sufi Sonnet 40
When I am filled with futilities you fix up festive feasts to feed me with spices to spark the creativity of my inner sanctuary. For my compelling hunger you genially grow cabalistically the microbes of the ravishing radiance with musty flavour. What is the best in your bewilderment becomes the brightness of my bloom. I give you my sweetest tribute through the senses of the grasp as you sharpen my artistic skills to bring out the god within me. With glee and without fear you bring order that is fair and honest. The unhackneyed cadence you are my supernal sonnet.
Poems about Stephen Gill
A Prophet Comes to Texas
(The prophet referred to is Stephen Gill, who made a Literary Tour to Texas (USA) in 1990 to share his poems and philosophy of peace.)
He came among us, wearing a red maple leaf, whispering,
His feet stepped gently on Texas soil, disturbing weeds of complacency. His eyes probed hearts. His lips spoke softly,
Children of Peace."
Some closed their minds, their ears.
Fanatic! An Idealist, they called him.
Others opened their eyes and received a vision of what was, what is, and what could be.
With the vision came a warning
of what might be.
We cringed before signs of annihilation and cried out to silver wing that lifted him
above the clouds,
---Bobbie Alice Drake
Bobbie Alice Drake from the United States writes mostly anti-war poems. She is a columnist for newspapers, and has authored two collections of poems.
I wish I could send you an angel to give strength to bring hope, confidence, tranquillity an angel no one will notice but you – faster than sound brighter than light softer than touch but touching you with warmth you feel is real deep down inside.
Frank Joussen has authored three collections of poems. He is a teacher of English literature in Germany, where he was born and brought up.
When Stephen Gill holds
a candle of hope providing a blueprint for life in his psalms
a dove begins to fly.
When he implores in his poems
to hold hands together
against restless, wayward minds
of fanatics and nations
and rolling tanks misfire, the sage in him stands up with unshakable confidence to announce
Shanti, shanty, shanty Om.
Prof. Dr. Jaydeep Sarangi is a bilingual poet and critic. He is a professor of English and principal at New Alipore College, Kolkata. He is also the President of Guild of Indian English Writers, Editors and Critics (GIEWEC).
(On Stephen Gill’s modern epic The Flame )
When I read
Children disappearing inside the blackness
And mothers crying
Every speck of me Falls apart.
Play diatribe songs
On an impaired piano Of their design.
The abrupt harshness
Of their discordant sounds Come from the notes of reason.
These Ravanas and Kamsas
Pollute the air of serenity.
The arrows of their insanity End in the emptiness Of the nadir of frustration.
The flame keeps giving warmth
From its spring of purity.
Where is the daybreak
of the source
that ends the melodrama
of the dark force
I simply ask.
-- Anuradha Sharma
Anuradha Madan Sharma is Associate Professor of English at Navjivan Arts and Commerce College, Dahod, Gujarat, India.
This sun is no other than Stephen Gill
A prime Poet Laureate—
A learned navigator
For budding poets and writers.
They will be thankful to Divinity
For awarding them A friendly, humble guide.
The radiance of this sun Dwindles away their fears.
They emanate now boldly
Like the radiant stars in the sky--- A new vista is taking shape.
-- A. S. Bannore
A. S. Bannore from Vadodara, Gujarat, India, has authored collections of poems. She is a teacher by profession.
a devil at the door drops
the beads of my brooding on the floor. Alone to stare and ponder with uneasy thoughts I notice no being and no stars in the sky in the space of the gloomy night.
The dim comforting light whispers gently: Fear.... yes it’s the fear that your poet Stephen Gill holds, hugs closely and drones-- it is a jolt that he owns.
He has lost his land but not the sky.
He shall continue purging emotions with his primal expressions. His words weep in solitude on the mount of artists. It is brutal, a painful process
to produce pity and reposing Catharsis.
K. Satyamurty, a translator, has post graduate degrees in Ancient Indian History, Culture and Archaeology; and also in English Literature--both from different universities of India. He has doctorate on Stephen Gill.
The Creator of the universe has given great and generous men
to serve with compassion and diligence.
Stephen Gill is among them.
An Indian by birth,
Ethiopian next, English later,
a Canadian now breathes in the panorama of the ambition of his literary creeds.
A cosmopolitan poet of vision for which he has toiled to provide a blueprint to live. Voracious reader, skilled writer, teacher tenacious intellectual, weighty, a profound thinker
whose poetry and prose reveal veritably of his beliefs.
Stephen is not a Trishanku. Peace is the child of freedom and for all justice
this poet often repeats them using as his living rosary. Stephen Gill, a cherished son of the universe,
is today’s conscious.
Global harmony and social concerns form the pillars of his poetry.
N V Subbaraman writes in English and Tamil and edits YOUNG POET-- an English poetry e-journal and a monthly journal IMPACT. He has authored more than 30 books and has a number of awards to his credit.
Stephen Gill: The Bard
Like a meteor he rose
Across the blue sky
To rekindle faith in humanity
That’s now grown wild
The Partition tore his soul
The massacres his spirit
The symphony of life
Blew out his candle
Yet, following the path of Ahimsa
An apostle of peace he becomes
Turning over the pages of history
He pleads for nations to be one
A simple bard he rose unnoticed
Armed with his dove of peace
An olive branch he holds with ease
For all to heal and repose
The terrorist mania
As do the war clouds loom
He pleads to halt the envious race
To loot and destroy the roots
A righteous man
God fearing to the core
He seeks to unite divided nations
On creeds of love and peace
He warns the erring nations
Politicians shrewd and crude
Who burn both ends of candle tips
To rule and divide the ‘brood’
Nations divided cannot subsist
On ideals corrupt and hide
The pain that tortures one and all
And so the Apostle strides
Onward, onward he marches along
The path of Live and Let Live
Undaunted he kindles the spirit of love
Though the world listens to him not
He dreads the decay of conscience
In men who hunger for blood
Maniac Messiahs he calls them
Craving like vampires for human blood
God grant him a peaceful life
For the peaceful pledges he instils
In every human heart he plants
The wish to Live and Let Live
-- Shobha Diwakar
For the Apostle of Peace
You struggled alone
Walking on the path of righteousness
The path was rough and pebbled
Under the star studded sky
The sky that once bloomed
Tucking myriads of planets
By its side
This war torn world
Has stolen its glory
Shrouding it with dirty fumes
To loot and consume
Hitlers’ everywhere do hunger
To covet and destroy
To conquer and ruin the world
Their might crosses the tide
Amidst the rage to rule and divide
Terrorists claim the feat
Morals lost, conscience dead
No time to heal and reprieve
A ray of sunshine
A ray of hope
Shines through the cracks insight
As a prophet rises steadily
To light the path bright
A humble humanitarian he
Rises above the raging tide
Perceiving disasters all around
Prays for this tide to subside
-- Shobha Diwakar
Stephen Gill’s Agony
Fire ignited his soul while inhumanity crushed him tearing him entirely. He rushed place to place when hideous sights followed him. Oceans could not quench his thirst as flames kept enveloping his life like the ever flowing tide.
This India-born visionary self-proclaimed world citizen settled in Canada. A renowned poet of love agonised by the heinous criminals was robbed of innocent childhood in his motherland, the symbol of dreams. His struggle to promote co-existence
to end religious strife went unnoticed.
He inks the dove
with the maple of his pen.
The whispers of the Muse could not help him to rescue humanity
from the grasp of chaos.
His philosophical eyes see beyond the clouded horizon.
Finds animosities diverting economy to the factories of armaments to defend imaginary boundaries.
He urges to stop bombing cities
that leaves mutilated bodies.
He implores to bathe in harmony.
His watchword is for the flowers of peace to fill the landscape with beauties.
-- Shobha Diwakar
A prominent poet and literary critic Dr. Shobha Diwakar is a Retired Head, Dept. of English, C P Mahila Mahavidhyalaya, Jabalpur, Madhya Pradesh, India.
A Song for Stephen Gill
Stephen lives and loves
Serenity and peace
Live and let live in his genes.
For humanity and humankind
His heart cries for compassion
To unite the world is his passion.
The smile of love and peace
His heart wishes on every face
Carrying a burden with wonder of grace.
He contemplates and writes
His pen always glorifies
The religion that teaches not to fight.
His writings bear a meaningful mark
O the people of nations
Read Gill to heal the vision dark.
Dr. Aksa Rao works as head of the department of English at Bishnah College, Jammu, India.
Dear Mr. Gill
Dear Mr. Gill
You came from heaven
To pour melodies
Mellowed with mellifluous message
Brewed with manna
That strikes a note
That drowns dissension
And the world will be dank with
Love and compassion
Deepest regards to you
--Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya, M A (Triple), M Phil, PhD, is a retired college teacher from Belur Math, Howrah, West Bengal. A Bilingual writer (English and Bengali), he has been writing on different subjects for the last thirty years.
In Memory of Stephen Gill
God sent a white dove with long feathers on head
Flew over the world cooing mantras of peace
Reminded human beings futility of war
How millions of innocent children, women
farmers, labourers, animals and plants
lose their lives through devastating bombings
It flew to war torn areas where
‘maniac messiahs’ danced in ecstasy
over corpses of innocent masses.
Having failed in His mission
God called it back on 4th April 2022
--K. V. Dominic, Editor IJML