R.K.Singh awarded for his poetry

THE WORLD PRIZE FOR LITERARY EXCELLENCE 2019-2020, APPROVED BY THE PROVINCIAL Municipality of URUBAMBA, THE Hispanomundial UNION OF WRITERS (UHE), OF PERUHE; MOTIVATIVATIONAL STRIPS, THE SULTANATE OF OMANATE OF OMANATE OF OMANATE AND THE WORLD NATIONS WRITERS UNION, BY KAZAKASKAN

Image may contain: ‎text that says "‎URUBAMBA ন UNION HISPANOMUNDIAL DE (UHE) MOTIVATIONAL STRIPS SULTANATO OMAN) WORLD NATIONS WRITER'S UNION (KAZAKSTAN) Confieren Presente PREMIO MUNDIAL A LA EXCELENCIA LITERARIA 2019-2020 Otorgado Ram Krishna Singh (India) En RECONOCIMIENIU extraordınario trabajo y aporte de Nacional Mundial. Urubamba, Cusco-Peru Febrero del 2020. tavor BEALARCEL URUBAMBA רכיל <CE CARLOS GERENTE URUBAMBA, Cusco, SHUUH. PRESIDENTE EJECUTIV SULTANATO DE OMAN STRIPS KAIRAT ARMAN PRESIDENTE WORLD NATIONS KAZAKSTAN‎"‎

 

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One More Poem

Spillwords.com presents: One More Poem, written by Ram Krishna Singh, an Indian English poet who has been writing for about four decades.

Source: One More Poem

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I nearly die everyday/Nobody asks me my last wish

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World Haiku Series 2021 (45) Haiku by Ram Krishna Singh

Thanks Hiruta san for your generous support for my haiku.
R K

Akita International Haiku Network

garden edge--
feeling morning mist
in the eyes

ガーデンエッジ
朝の霧を感じる
目に
 
on the terrace
shadow of black pigeons:
second full moon

テラスで
クロミカドバトの影
2番目の満月
  
in mind's cave
facing fears all night
waning moon

心の洞窟
一晩中恐怖に直面している
下弦の月 
 
red with shame
the sky at sunrise
one more kiss

恥ずかしさで真っ赤
日の出の空
もう一回キス
 
they watch from the street
our embrace at the window
sneak into liquor

彼らは通りから見ている
窓際での私たちの抱擁を
お酒に忍び込む 
 
each syllable
allergic pollen and dust
her autumn tongue

各音節
アレルギー性花粉とほこり
彼女の秋の舌 
 
from behind the grill
bowing to the setting sun
a man in wheel chair

グリルの後ろから
夕日にお辞儀する
車椅子の男
 
cold and naked
in perils of water--
stumbling boatman

寒くて裸
水の危険にさらされて
つまずく船頭
 
unemptied 
the cup of remorse--
begging bowl

空にされていない
後悔のカップ
物乞うお椀 
 
she looks ahead
after years of heart-bleed:
harvest moon

彼女は先を見据えている
何年にもわたる心臓出血の後
中秋の名月 

― Translated into Japanese by Hidenori Hiruta 

About the Poet

Ram Krishna Singh, born on 31 December 1950 in Varanasi (Uttar Pradesh…

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Agouray Fatima translates my 36 haiku in French

My 36 haiku, earlier published in Cholla Needles (California), Issue 10, 2017, are now translated into French by Agouray Fatima of Morocco.

36 Haiku: Ram Krishna Singh

translated by Agouray Fatima, Morocco

Ram Krishna Singh

1
a red globe
rises at dawn:
waving corn

Un globe rouge
Se lève à l’aube
Agitant les épis de maïs


2
awake
alone on the house top
a sparrow

Éveillé
Seul sur la terrasse
Un moineau


3
the black idol
waits for worshippers to visit:
unbloomed hibiscus

L’idole noire
Attends les fidèles pour visiter:
L’hibiscus incomparable


4
knee-deep in the pond
awaits fresh catch to buy milk
for the new-born

Jusqu’aux genoux dans l’étang
Il attend d’attraper un poisson pour acheter du lait
Pour le nouveau- né


5
squatting
in the middle of the field
a woman with child

Accroupie
Au milieu du champs
Une femme avec un enfant


6
resting in
the cleft of the rock
honey bées

Reposées
Dans la fissure du rocher
Des abeilles


7 sleeping snake
curled between the eggs
layers of leaves

Un serpent dort
Enroulé entre les oeufs
Des couches de feuilles


8
hitching up the skirt
she fills her pockets with
unripe mangoes

Remontant sa jupe
Elle remplit ses poches
De mangues vertes


9
smell of fish
in his apple juice bottle—
costermonger

Odeur de poisson
Dans son jus de pomme en bouteille
Le marchand ambulant


10
icy fish
laced with blood
spices smell

Poisson congelé
Mélangé avec du sang
Odeur d’épices


11
potholes
spots of sunshine
wobble

Nids de poules
Des tâches de soleil
Oscillent


12
crowded streets
moving among the years
wretched faces

Rues encombrées
Evoluant au fil des années
Des visages misérables

13
crack in the mine:
a traceless tipper driver
wailing father

Fissure dans la mine
Aucune trace du conducteur de benne
Gémissement du père


14
living again
fountain on the hilltop—
diving light

Revivre
Fontaine sur la colline
Lumière plongeante


15
a yellow spider
crouching in a corner
invisible webs

Une Araignée jaune
Accroupie dans un coin.
Toiles invisibles


16
the sky
without a shadow
on the earth

Le ciel
Sans ombre
Au dessus de la terre


17
the clouds gather
over the hillock—
the air too turns black

Les nuages s’amassent
Au dessus de la dune‐-
L’air aussi devient noir


18
float over the hill
the autumn circles of smoke—
her long hair streaming

Au dessus de la colline flottent
Des ronds de fumée automnale–
Sa longue chevelure en Bataille

19
wet in sweat
from her under arms
perfume

Parfum
Dans la douceur humide
Sous ses aisselles


20
transparent
in her red saree
she tiptoes

Sur la pointe des pieds
Transparente dans son sari rouge


21
wiping his face
under the umbrella
an old man with books

Essuyant son visage
Sous le parapluie
Un vieil homme avec des livres


22
between the streetlight
and windowpane howling
a wolfish shadow

Entre la lumière des lampadaires
Et la vitre brisée de la fenêtre
L’ombre d’un loup


23
prayer book
covering the glass—
his last drink

Livre de prières
Couvrant le verre‐-
Le dernier coup de l’étrier

24
two bodies
sweating together—
afterglow

Deux corps
Transpirant ensemble
Après la lumière



25
in the bath
bare soul together—
afterglow

Au bain
Âmes nues ensemble‐-
Rémanence


26
lying in her nightie
she wipes the stray raindrops
settled on her cheeks

Allongée en pyjama
Elle essuie les gouttes de pluie perdues
Sur ses joues


27
watching
the darkness between the stars
enlightenment

Entrain de regarder
Les ténèbres entre les étoiles
Une lueur


28
on the river bank
his soul is lighted for peace—
lantern in the sky

Sur la berge de la rivière
Son âme est allumée pour la paix–
Une lanterne au ciel


29
unable to map
on the face where her pain ends
and mine begins

Impossible de discerner
Sur son visage où sa douleur s’achève
Et où débute la mienne


30
hidden between the sheets
my smothered senses—
Salted honney

Caché entre les draps
Mes sens étouffés
Miel salé


31
in silence
one with divine will
growing within

En silence
Une volonté divine pourrait
Grandir en toi.


32
touching her tattoo
in the darkness of mirror
moon from the Window

Touchant son tatouage
Dans l’obscurité du miroir
La lune à travers la fenêtre


33
drifting
in the night’s silence
moon’s shadow

Dérivant
Dans le silence de la nuit
Les ombres de la lune


34
tangle together
flames of a double lamp
on the terrace

Emmêlées
Les flammes de la double lampe
Sur la terrasse


35
crowded waiting hall
fleshly warmth with smelly clothes:
midnight train still late

La salle d’attente est bondée
La chaleur charnelle avec
Des habits malodorants:
Le train de minuit est encore en retard

36
locked between
my bed and quilt
December chill

Enfermée entre
Mon lit et la couverture
La froideur de décembre

One More Poem

Spillwords.com presents: One More Poem, written by Ram Krishna Singh, an Indian English poet who has been writing for about four decades. Source: One More Poem

World Haiku Series 2021 (45) Haiku by Ram Krishna Singh

Originally posted on Akita International Haiku Network:
garden edge– feeling morning mist in the eyes ガーデンエッジ 朝の霧を感じる 目に on the terrace shadow of black pigeons: second full moon テラスで クロミカドバトの影 2番目の満月 in mind’s cave facing fears all night waning moon 心の洞窟 一晩中恐怖に直面している 下弦の月 red with shame the sky at sunrise one more kiss 恥ずかしさで真っ赤 日の出の空…

Poems by Ram Krishna Singh

Originally posted on POETIC GALAXY ATUNIS :
  Poems by Ram Krishna Singh     ***   They repeat blunders out of ignorance or kindness   to prove wisdom bureaucrats join hands with   politicians and journalists who appear in mating season   like dogs in October and November and perpetuate the blur   around the…

Prof. R. K. Singh

Originally posted on Christina Chin Haiku:
R.K. SINGH Ram Krishna Singh is an Indian poet and academic whose main fields of interest consist of Indian English writing, especially poetry, and English for Specific Purposes, especially for science and technology. He has taught? English language skills to UG and PG students of earth and mineral sciences…

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Poems by Ram Krishna Singh

POETIC GALAXY ATUNIS

 
Poems by Ram Krishna Singh
 
 
***
 
They repeat blunders
out of ignorance
or kindness
 
to prove wisdom
bureaucrats
join hands with
 
politicians and journalists
who appear
in mating season
 
like dogs in
October and November
and perpetuate the blur
 
around the hole
to stand in the queue
of decaying ancestors
 
 
***
 
The watery weather
continues to shatter
the mortal shell
 
one by one
washes the paints
that hide the face
 
— R K Singh
From MY SILENCE (1985)

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For my distinguished participation in VOICES OF HOPE II from

Naciones Unidas de las Letras, Colombia

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Prof. R. K. Singh

Christina Chin Haiku

R.K. SINGH

Ram Krishna Singh is an Indian poet and academic whose main fields of interest consist of Indian English writing, especially poetry, and English for Specific Purposes, especially for science and technology. He has taught English language skills to UG and PG students of earth and mineral sciences and engineering for about four decades.

EDUCATION & CAREER

Singh was born on 31 December 1950 in Varanasi, India. After earning a B.A. in 1970, he gained his Master’s degree in English Literature from Banaras Hindu University in 1972 and doctorate from Kashi Vidyapith, Varanasi in 1981. He also obtained a Diploma in Russian in 1972.

Dr. Singh started his career in journalism, as a Compilation Officer in the District Gazetteers Department, Lucknow, 1973, and a Journalist with the Press Trust of India, New Delhi, 1973-74. Changing to teaching, he became a Lecturer at the Royal Bhutan Polytechnic, Deothang, Bhutan, 1974-76…

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HAIKU WRITING: A PERSONAL RANDOM REFLECTION AS AN INDIAN POET

HAIKU WRITING: A PERSONAL RANDOM REFLECTION AS AN    INDIAN POET

                                                                                  –R K Singh

                  When I wrote my first haiku, perhaps in the early 1980s, I knew little about it except the basics of the form that it contains three short lines in 5-7-5 syllables, a reference to nature, and uses concrete images of things we can see, smell, touch, taste, or feel.

                  I had no teacher or guide to learn its deeper structure. I had no clear idea how best I could use the form in  my socio-cultural context, or adapt the Japanese norms to my native experiences, my own first-hand observations and subjective feelings.

                 Earlier, in the 1970s, I sometimes wrote mini poems in 3, 4, or 5 lines which are in free form. To give a few examples:

  1. The best poetry

is a woman

concrete, personal, delightful

greater than all

                                            (22 October 1972)

  • Naked

without ring

my finger

looks a widow

                                           (29 September 1973)

  • I smoke and see

in the the upgoing fumes

dry ashes of life

                                            (5 November 1973)

  • There is no tree

over the mountain

I rest under the shade

of a wandering cloud

                                           (31 October 1974)

         I thought these were like haiku, or had haiku possibility. Despite my preference for brevity, and haiku-like sensibility, and even use of 3-line stanzas in my regular poems, I doubt I knew enough to be confident to compose haiku that create an image, or show what I experienced which the reader, too, could feel.  Honestly, it took me time to realize that all 3-liners are not haiku, nor all 5-liners tanka, even if my fascination for the form brought about a sort of consistency in the syllabic structure of my regular poems without wasting words.

         Haiku as an independent poem, however, could start happening from 1982 onwards, though initially, what I composed as haiku, and succeeded in publishing them too, continued to baffle me. For example:

  1. It’s utter helpless

true, but to survive

one must be tamed

                                                          (29 December 1983)

and

  • The mirror is so small

I can’t see the ocean

beyond my own look

                                                     (6 July 1985)

But the following three pieces seemed good:

  • A stray sperm

grows in the ovum

booms as a puffball

                                                     (7 February 1985)

  • Among the white hairs

a solitary black one

keeps her hope alive

                                                     (5 January 1987)

  • After cleaning

the maid leaves behind

an oily smell

So is true with the 5-liner:

  1. Layers of dust thicken

on the mirror water makes

the smuts prominent:

I wipe and wipe and yet

the stains stay like sin

                                           (2 July 1986)

         I used to share some of my poetic pieces with my American poet friend, the late Professor Lyle Glazier of the University of New York at Buffalo, USA. Reading my first collection of haiku, he wrote me in a letter (dated 8 June 1999):

“I’ve read your collection of haiku and found much to interest me, but there have been so many collections of haiku. I think of them as good finger exercises for a poet, but except for a few collections—like Cid Corman’s Back Roads to Far Towns, a translation of Basho with original Japanese text and Cid’s own translation and commentary, I think it is very rare to have a book that stands up to what Basho and other oriental poets so beautifully wrote.  Such collections can go on for ever, and never become more than practice poems for the poet to perfect his technique…

“I am wondering if you wouldn’t better spend your time on a less formalized structure except for your own amusement and private gain.

    “It seems to me that your own form is more interesting and suits you better.”

              A month later, Professor Glazier wrote me again, dissuading me from writing haiku:

“At 88 years of age, I have reached a time when my vitality begins to wane, and I trust you will come to understand that I only think of your future welfare when I advise you not to spend valuable hours on haiku, a temptation that is shared by many poets persuaded that admiration from other poets writing in that genre is more than mutual admiration that has little worth outside that circle.

“If you can bring yourself to look objectively at the poems in that form, you will discover how boring it can become to read them. A few haiku can be admired if they avoid the common practice of moving away from a concentrated objective visual/auditory/sensory revelation into a virtually didactic statement, as if looking at the poem and remaking, ‘See how clever I have been to achieve this insight.’  The purely sensual haiku is very difficult to achieve, and especially difficult to achieve a collection of such depth and vision as to win a total commitment from the rear…

“At your best you are a poet with remarkable talent and insight. Don’t be betrayed by joining a mutual admiration society, no matter how successful.”

        It took me years to understand, and effectively practice, that haiku carries one’s deep, personal, spiritual experiences, expressed in shortest possible way: these are brief, lyrical self experiences, and experiences of life on earth, experiences of a passing moment, here and now, not to teach or preach or analyze or philosophize or moralize or argue, but to stir the spirit, to become aware of the images of life and various events associated with it.  It is connecting with what is there around us, outside in nature, and inside our mind, heart and soul.  It is experiencing and expressing our emotions of joy, sadness, admiration, or strong feelings through the form of an object that we see with our own eyes, as Koko Kato notes in her haiku magazine, Ko. The attempt is to create an image with purity of feeling and sincerity of experience, and communicate with a sense of wonder and majesty, rather than verbal cleverness.

           Also, haiku  writing to me could not be confined to mere nature poetry with seasonal reference, nor is the 3-liner with human content, that is, senryu, a different entity. I practice haiku and senryu as one: simply haiku, which happens with the momentness of a lived moment and communicates our faith in the unity of man’s being with all existence. It instinctively images what the creation around us means.   

            It’s limited form, characteristically short-long-short lines, has a lot of possibility if the poet could develop a sense of proportion, or harmony, the expressive side of language or rhythm which permeates the words, as also if the poet could evince sensuousness, imaging life in all its hues, from the most intimate to the most uplifting beyond, with room for readers to connect.

            With these few random thoughts about my haiku writing in English as an Indian poet, I wish to  end off with a few haiku I composed recently:

  1. cleaning the remains

of burnt out earthen lamps—

dusky temple yard

  • smoked fish

in the elevated hut—

honeymoon

  • flour dough

between fingers

despair sticks

  • midnight moon

senses aroused—

lift the veil

  • pecking

behind the mask 

magic-seekers

  • sudden downpour—

even in sleep I worry

about the virus

  • pandemic:

bullying before vaccine

the November wave

  • left alone

a covid patient:

restless turn

  • mid-June morning—

the gardener’s muddy fingers

scratch the itching scalp

  1.  rainy night—

he shuts the windows

saves his books    

–R K Singh

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AGAINST THE WAVES

AGAINST THE WAVES: SELECTED POEMS (New Delhi: Authors Press, 2021, ISBN 978- 93-90891-58-0, Price Rs.295 US $25) by Ram Krishna Singh.

Poems, including haiku and tanka, have continued to happen since the publication of my collection YOU CAN’T SCENT ME AND OTHER SELECTED POEMS (2016). Most of them have appeared in both print and online journals. I compiled some of them in my latest book AGAINST THE WAVES. I am indebted to Sudarshan Kcherry ji for his support to my creativity and readily agreeing to publish this collection of poems under the imprint of Authors Press. The book is now available from the publisher and other online platforms. Please email to: authorspressgroup@gmail.comI seek support from fellow poets, scholars, and students to read it and enrich their personal library.

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PANDEMIC POEMS

1

TEST

Lonely December

aren’t I immune?


antibody test

before boarding


uncertainty continues

no silence helps


virus more mighty

than gods in politics


don’t know if I can meet

children before the year-end


to celebrate birthday

or continue journey


in flurry living

each day a grace

2

NEW GODS

Meditation —

future uncertainties

beyond crisis


new strains, new virus

villains of the  new order

peeking from windows


create new mantras

for life to continue

envision new gods 

–R K Singh

https://www.setumag.com/2021/04/pandemic-poems-ram-krishna-singh.html

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