BOOK REVIEWS

One is amazed by the simplicity of language she employs. There are very rare moments of outburst. Mostly, the poems are subtle to the extreme. The language is guarded and even anger is controlled. Words are pruned to their essence, like minimal flowers arranged in a vase. Gaudiness in expression is totally avoided.

'In this chronicle of love pursued and subsequently lost, Priyasi (Preeti Singh) wades through much traveled waters. But it's probably the freshness of feeling that comes with each line, the pain and the unending emotions, that stay in your mind, much after you've finished the book.'

_Femina


‘Simantini (Boundless) by Priyasi (PreetiSingh) published by Minerva Press landed on my table a few days ago. I read the first poem, then the second, the third and then the entire collection.'

_Khushwant Singh


‘A prolific collection of heart-rending verses. The poems are sensitive and simple. The singular achievement of the tract is the poet's sincerity of feeling.'

_Hindustan Times


Going through the poems of Priyasi (Preeti Singh), one feels elated to find that she has made skepticism the means of revealing the subtleties of female psychology which make the poems interesting and fascinating. The poetess uses very simple language to exhibit her dexterity and leaves an indelible mark of her sheer intellect.

_National Herald

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Thursday 3 May 2012

life's afternoon

 
I had
kept the doors shut .
I had
mummified my Self.
I had with rigorous discipline
turned  robotic.
I had
with meticulous care,
become an inanimate object.
Why?
Why did you come along?
Memories were locked
behind decades of  last rites.
And feelings?
Feelings were buried
under layers of  life.
I didn’t know
the woman was still alive.
How could she?
She had died
so many times.
But alas!
What quirk of Fate,
brought you ?
In the afternoon of my life.
Will you be the sanjivini
 for a dead girl ?
Or yet again,
another undertaker.

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1 comment:

  1. Unknown9 May 2012 at 22:26

    LIVING WITH DESIRE
    Desiring person enjoys the flavor of hundred years in each of his moment; hundred years are nothing to hopeless one!
    Desire full hundred years would feel like a moment; else hopeless moments are boring like hundred years!

    Anna Tyag!!!
    Subah maati sungha karta hun, dophar khud san jaata hun,
    Sham, ishe chaba kar bhi; jab kabra bana dhak jaata hun.
    Phir wahi subah dikhti hai jab, yah kabr swayan hi khul jaati hai.
    Phir wahi sab aaj nayee kal banker, satya hai kaal ka naya dastak.
    Ham maan hi jaayen mrityu hi hai satya.
    To kya bhukha rah kar purna karun yah satya.
    Nahin! Phir maut kahan aayee meri; jab kabra bhi naa rahte, dhara par band.
    Aaj mai kis kaal ko divya kahun, aur kis kaal ko satya.
    Nitya marg mere kaise, yahan agyan nirantar danshte jaate.
    Vigyan bachenge kahan dhara, jab nitya gyan tap ke dyote.
    Main samajh sakun yah mrityu lok, jahan anna tyag bin nahi maut!

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