Read a free sample of "At The Crossing Of Seven Winds"

Read a free sample of  "At The Crossing Of Seven Winds"

at

Smashwords

If you don't have an epub e-reading, you can download Adobe Digital Edition epub e-reading free

About the book : a presentation

«Nature is wild and eagles and wolves will never be lovers. But certainly Poetry can overcome every obstacle and translates our dreams, desires, passions.. in images that evoke even a new, different Universe.» (Fabrizio Frosini)

«It fulfills the very nature of poetry that we 7 poets publish our poems in a common anthology and witness how these diverse poems reflect each other, relate to each other, amplify each other.»

(Daniel J. Brick)

~*~

"At The Crossing Of Seven Winds" published by Fabrizio Frosini at Smashwords, is an Anthology of Poetry with 72 poems from 7 Authors from different parts of the world.

As Fabrizio Frosini put it: 

«When I first proposed my idea for an e-book to my Minnesotan friend Daniel Brick, we decided together to open it to other "voices of poetry" from different parts of our troubled world.  Maybe we put it a bit too emphatically, like "voices of poetry conveying the joy of creativity", to point out the real issues of human passions mediated through poetry.  Yet, Poetry is a sum of hope and despair.  It is a sum of wishes, hopes, dreams, inspirations, wanderings on the wings of Imagination.  It is a long flight our hearts and minds took, revisiting reality, memories, expectations.  Life itself is revisited through the multicolored glasses of poetry.  Everyone who reads our poetry enters our own Universe –even if for a while.  Through Poetry, we - the all of us who write and read its lines - are in touch.»

 ~*~

The 7 Authors in alphabetical order:

Leah Ayliffe (Toronto, Canada): 

Born in 1991, I have my BA degree in English Literature. Yet to me words are power. They can be cinematic, sonic, beautiful, ugly, simple and complex - pushing limits in endless ways. Words can be dangerous and liberating. I write because I feel I have to. There is a chaos stirring inside myself that only acts of creativity can fix- if only temporarily.

Daniel J. Brick (Saint Paul, MN, USA): 

I was born in the Twin Cities in 1947 and lived my whole life here. This is where I am rooted, near the Mississippi River, in a landscape of four seasons with many trees and parks and lakes. These are the natural things I treasure. Poetry and classical music are my passions.

Fabrizio Frosini (Florence, Italy): 

Born in Tuscany, I live close to Florence and to Vinci, Leonardo's hometown. Doctor in Medicine, specialized in Neurosurgery, with an ancient passion for Poetry. Author of c. 1200 poems, in 13 collections. Among them: «The Chinese gardens - English Poems», soon to be published.

Diane Hine (Perth, Australia): 

I live in Perth, Western Australia, a very peaceful yet isolated city set on the banks of the Swan River. I’m very happily married with four lovely children and two gorgeous grandsons. I work as a laboratory assistant in a large orthodontic practice.

Galina Italyanskaya (Saint Petersburg, Russia): 

Born in Ukhta, a small northern town surrounded by forests, I grew up there between civilization and wilderness. From the early childhood my curiosity about everything in the world has no limits. I love nature, science and art, music and literature, travels and discoveries, and of course I love my children.

Mallika Menon (Trivandrum, India): 

I hail from Kerala, on India’s southern tip. Lover of music and literature, I sing songs and poems. I offer collection of poems in mother tongue Malayalam as well as English. Simple emotions, gentle feelings and shades of empathy reflect in my poetry. I like reading philosophy. I’m travel-savvy, keen to explore cultures and cuisines world-over.

Abby Sze (Hong Kong): 

Born in China in 1990. Moved to Hong Kong when I was 10. Used to murmur “Our Father” at early age, but now whisper “Invictus”, by William Ernest Henley, during times of fear. First poem written is “3480”.

Our Facebook Page 

Nocturnal Snowing - Fabrizio Frosini

«Let this fluffy snow fall upon our

Dreams and make them shine!»

Set free,

Your breath smoothens unshaken skies;

Your perception scratches unopened realities.

Is it a diversion – maybe – for lost thoughts,

For lost faces and sins?

Looking the other way out of fear or

Embarrassment, waking up next morning,

You should then learn

How to keep alive the drowsing mind,

While trying to shove away

Her plait of hair,

Jammed in the eyes of memory.

Ah.. Those haunting memories!

Was her pain real

When she asserted  «That one is my spoiled dress !

My party dress,

Which your eyes, filled with lust, tore off me..» ?

Hardly a twist of fate that

Multivalent perception which made

Visionary  –Fanciful

Your unnecessary waiting.

Because she didn't come back.

Even at dawn. Even in your expectation.

Now your pain screams only through silence

When you sink your fingers deep

Into your bleeding heart  –A sheer grief

With no voice anymore

Because day in day out, year after year

Everything becomes habit.

Until,

Gazing at the fluffy snow falling, you

Caught a glimpse of her  –Along with a

Whiff of her perfume..

Peering deeply into your eyes

She spoke words of hope

Along with a promise –possibly– :

«A new life is looming beyond the whitened

Fields of your mind»

Hushed words, uttered under her breath,

Not to scrape the purity of the night.

Was it a prophecy?

The celebration of a triumph or a

Failure  –A bloodcurdling nightmare?

Enough! I'm fed up!

I stare at my bloody fingers

And faintly sigh.

(Fabrizio Frosini) 

Four Taoist Poems - Daniel J. Brick

I

Scattered rocks lie
beneath the moss-covered boulder.
They are Tai Chi students
resting in the shade of their master.
They have learned enough for today -
It's time to stop
and speak softly to the earth.

II

The grasses display no ambition.
They grow everywhere along the Path
with a tangled sense of humor.
There is a deep truth hidden here
but I'm laughing too hard to care about it!

III

Walking in the Marsh

Balancing on one leg,
without a thought in her head,
the bird mocks philosophy.
I'm too stubborn to get the point.
I'll come back next week
when I'm ready.

IV

Suddenly I don't know what to say.
Perhaps I should keep my mouth shut.
The barren branch knows so much more
than I ever will
in the Ten Thousand Years.




(Daniel J. Brick)

The Beggar - Mallika Menon

The broad and well kept thoroughfare
Got cuddled with its heavy traffic.
The town was over crowded with
folks of each and every league.

I was walking through the street
My eyes were searching for his sight.
When I saw him he was
in quest to stop his hunger with
rotten fruits and leftovers
from a waste bin next to him.
That place seemed his home itself
And the sky just turned as roof of it!

Agedness with illness had played a role
to make his body frail to the core.
The torn and soiled clothes of his
Seemed to be there in name only.
The dull and void look in his eyes
Conveyed me the miseries
in which he was going through.

He had spread a filthy cloth
infront of him as usual.
By using stones on all four sides
it was well tucked to the ground.
Someone's generosity glittered well
in that rag as few coins.

His shivering hand had saluted all
Even someone who showed disgust as well.
The word ego was not meant for him,
A pauper did not know its meaning!
People who never had endured with the wretchedness of poverty,
did not even bother him,
but murmered in between them that,
Why should he be there as a 'trouble mirth',
with utter contempt in their looks.

One of his feet had a bandage
and tried his best to conceal it.
I could see the blood like substance
Oozing from it continuously.
Paining wounds and starvation
had made his status so pathetical.
He was always accompanied by
Countless torments as his shadow.
To satisfy the call of hunger
He had to go through all those sufferings.

By seeing this sight made me think
With how much luck I have been born!
Then and there I took an oath,
To be contented with what I have!
I didn't forget to thank Almighty
With gratitude and love in my mind!
For granting me His precious grace,
All through in my life ardently!


(Mallika Achuthan Menon)

Coming, ready or not - Diane Hine

When we play hide and seek,
my grandson tells me where to hide.
I must hide in the tan swivel armchair.
I want to sneak away to hide somewhere
clever while he counts, but can’t
because he’s canny, though only three
and can see right through me. He can see
through his eyelids and fingers too.

So I scrunch myself up, close my eyes
and blend into the wrinkled leather.
After looking in the cupboard, under
the desk and behind the curtain,
he finds me straight away.
Then he hides under the table.
I look under the curtain. He sings out,
‘I’m here Grandma, under the table’.
After looking in the desk and behind
the cupboard, I find him straight away.

How worried we’d be, if I couldn’t find him
or he couldn’t find me. Much more sensible
to hide in plain view, so we do.





(Diane Hine)

Splitted - Galina Italyanskaya

Splitted 

 The world around me has vanished, lost in the night 

All things and thoughts seem fallen in some black hole 

The wires are ruptured, the sky is flashing with light 

Or, maybe, it’s the result of my last default 

And since the dark has taken me by surprise 

I’ve lit a candle, remained of Christmas Eve 

Its gentle flame is dancing before my eyes 

Obedient to your whisper, my true belief 

I pour out my soul onto the sheet 

I write a letter to someone who’s drawn a sword 

And looking over my shoulder you try to read 

But obviously understand not a single word 

I hear you saying again: I should not give up 

Oh, can you recall the time when you were betrayed? 

I wonder if ever you saw me draining your cup 

And bearing that very cross to the top one day 

 Let poetry be my last escape from the blues 

I heard about its healing creative force 

The way rough diamonds turn into precious jewels 

It facets our feelings and secret thoughts 

 My pen is running along and filling the page 

The flame is dancing, and slowly drop by drop 

The melted wax is running over the edge 

I guess that trust has nothing to do with hope 

 It’s really hard to live on and never wait, 

To liberate all your fantasies, let’em fly

 Resigning to the maxima “come what may” 

And write your story across the undying sky 

My poetry is the candle your love has lit 

It’s not the wax, but verses are dripping down 

The wick of life is burning - I’ve got a bit  

When everything is written I’ll simply die. 

 Or, possibly, it will end up with less delay 

If someone, who wants to leave to forget my face,  

Just slams the door behind and goes away, 

And blows out my dream 

To another space 

 You’re not a smoker - there are no matches at hand 

To make alive that one decided to break 

I know my fate, and truly I don’t pretend 

Please shelter my lonely light from a big mistake

~ Galina Italyanskaya