A Symphony of Temple Bells

A Symphony of Temple Bells
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Author: Satya Palaparty
Pages: 60
Year of Publication: 2017
Price: Rs 150 / $10
ISBN: 978-93-5045-151-9 (9789350451519)

About the Author:
Satya Palaparty writes poetry and stories of her memories of India and also of her cross-cultural experiences as an immigrant living in the United States. Two of her poems have been part of performing arts projects: “Freedom” was featured in The Spilling Ink Project’s Godavari: Who Am I? — a classical Indian dance, music and theatre performance and “Dancing with Shiva on the Ganga”, which was choreographed and performed by students in Seton Hill University’s theatre and dance programme, a performance that also combined poetry, music, classical Indian dance forms, along with modern dance forms. Palaparty has taught a range of English composition courses at colleges and universities in northeast Ohio. Her poems have been published in Akros Review, Borders and Senses, North Coast Review and YACK. She is also the founder and editor of ekakshara, a literary and visual arts journal. She holds a Master of Arts in English Literature from Sri Venkateswara University, India, a Master of Arts in Creative Writing from Cleveland State University, and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing with a concentration in poetry from the NEOMFA programme, a consortium of four universities in northeast Ohio, USA. Her website is http://www.satyapalaparty.com.

Teaser:

You Do Not Belong Here

500 Million Girls Killed

My light body swam in your large ocean
where I learned and imitated your curves.

I heard all the seasons of your voice
from your womb.

I lapped up your bliss
and eagerly waited to fill your hands.

I dreamed of having long brown hair
braided like a wheat branch.

But your hands plucked the wheat grains
still in the husk

to feed me until I am full
and still.

In the land of lotuses and goddess temples,
and goddess mantras on every lip,

dandelions live longer than a day.
A lazy lizard’s tail lies lashing, as if alive.

Tortoises have fire for centuries,
and the little dung beetle licks its lips.

A gnat sat on my nose and I saw
the peace sign between its wings

as I closed my eyes.

Contents:
36 poems

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