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    The Hemlock Anthology Volume One
    The Hemlock Anthology Volume One
    The Hemlock Anthology Volume One
    Ebook166 pages1 hour

    The Hemlock Anthology Volume One

    By Shazia Parveen

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The Hemlock Anthology Volume One is the first-ever anthology by The Hemlock: A Literary Arts Journal. It's a celebration of the diverse voices and creative expressions that unite us across borders and cultures, featuring writers and poets from more than ten countries, spanning India, the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia, Iran, Pakistan and beyond.

     

    From bustling city streets to serene rural landscapes, from the depths of personal introspection to the heights of collective imagination, the works in this volume traverse a wide spectrum of emotions, ideas, and perspectives. They invite us to explore the complexities of the human experience, to empathize with the struggles and triumphs of others, and to find beauty in the tapestry of life itself.

     

    Poetry by Antje Bothin, Ben Nardolilli, Christian Ward, Christopher Arkwright, Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith, Daniel Lockeridge, Diana Kurniawan, Dipti Silvia Romould, Elizabeth Adan, Eman Mansoor, Gerard Sarnat, GTimothy Gordon, James Kangas, John Muro, John RC Potter, Jonathan Fletcher, Jonathan Chibuike Ukah, Laura S. Martineé, M F Drummy, Renee Chan, Rikki Santer, Rina Malagayo Alluri, Ruchi Acharya, Sangni Singh, Shahryar Eskandari Zanjani, Shamik Banerjee, Sophia Jamali Soufi, William Doreski

     

    Prose by Angela Townsend, Clyde Liffey, DC Diamondopolous, Gary Beck, Nick Young, Ruchi Acharya, Sarah Das Gupta, Thomas Elson, Tom Ball

     

    Approximately 140 pages.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLighted Lake Press
    Release dateJul 2, 2024
    ISBN9780996962759
    The Hemlock Anthology Volume One
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      Book preview

      The Hemlock Anthology Volume One - Shazia Parveen

      INTRODUCTION

      The Hemlock Anthology is the first-ever anthology by The Hemlock: A Literary Arts Journal. It’s a celebration of the diverse voices and creative expressions that unite us across borders and cultures. Within these pages, you will embark on a journey through the vivid landscapes of poetry and prose, and visual art on the covers, crafted by talented individuals from every corner of the globe.

      This anthology is a testament to the power of storytelling and the enduring human need to connect, to share our experiences, dreams, and visions. It is a mosaic of voices, each one distinct yet resonating with the universal themes that bind us together as a global community.

      From the bustling streets of metropolises to the quiet serenity of rural landscapes, from the depths of personal introspection to the heights of collective imagination, the works contained herein traverse a vast spectrum of emotions, ideas, and perspectives. They invite us to explore the complexities of the human experience, to empathize with the struggles and triumphs of others, and to find beauty in the tapestry of life itself.

      In this anthology, you will encounter poets who weave words into exquisite tapestries of emotion, and writers who spin tales that transport us to realms beyond our imagination. Each contribution is a testament to the boundless creativity that flourishes within the human spirit, transcending geographical boundaries and cultural divides.

      We are honored to have you join us on this voyage of discovery and exploration, and we look forward to sharing many more adventures with you in the years to come.

      ~The Hemlock

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Two Worlds (Poetry)

      Antje Bothin

      AI Is a Poet, I Am a Human (Poetry)

      Christopher Arkwright

      Angels with Pencils (Non-Fiction)

      Angela Townsend

      How Can a Person Be Gold? (Poetry)

      Eman Mansoor

      Bored American, Once-Visitor to Relatives’ Western Galilee Gesher HaZiv Kibbutz Near Northern Border, Kibitzes (Poetry)

      Gerard Sarnat

      Unveiling the Past: Returning to the Land of Peacocks (Non-Fiction)

      Ruchi Acharya

      The Gutenberg Galaxy (Poetry)

      Ben Nardolilli

      Pliosaur Skull (Poetry)

      Christian Ward

      Permission (Poetry)

      Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith

      Mutiny (Fiction)

      Clyde Liffey

      Yo, Picasso (Poetry)

      GTimothy Gordon

      Sidewalk Café Rendezvous (Poetry)

      James Kangas

      Safe Harbor (Fiction)

      DC Diamondopolous

      Lines for Anthony Louis (Poetry)

      John Muro

      In Fragments (Poetry)

      Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

      Crowned (Poetry)

      Daniel Lockeridge

      After the Ride (Poetry)

      Diana Kurniawan

      It Started to Rain (Poetry)

      Laura S. Martineé

      Accordia (Fiction)

      Gary Beck

      If the Body Is a Temple of the Holy Spirit, Then What Is the Mind? (Poetry)

      Jonathan Fletcher

      1790 (Poetry)

      M F Drummy

      I Beg for Scraps for Breakfast (Poetry)

      Elizabeth Adan

      Watercolor (Fiction)

      Nick Young

      Smoke and Mirrors (Poetry)

      John RC Potter

      Release Recurring (Poetry)

      Rikki Santer

      The Devil’s Dog (Fiction)

      Sarah Das Gupta

      Hers (Poetry)

      Sangni Singh

      A Persian Poet’s Plea (Poetry)

      Shahryar Eskandari Zanjani

      Sting (Poetry)

      Sophia Jamali Soufi

      Exiled to a Hologram World (Fiction)

      Tom Ball

      Riding Sideways (Poetry)

      Rina Malagayo Alluri

      The Lone Astronaut (Poetry)

      Ruchi Acharya

      The Ninth Annual Family Portrait (Flash Fiction)

      Thomas Elson

      A Late-Night Christmas Dinner (Poetry)

      Shamik Banerjee

      Autumn Swoons (Poetry)

      William Doreski

      Sonnet on Regret (Poetry)

      Renee Chan

      Silvia (Poetry)

      Dipti Silvia Romould

      Our Brilliant Writers and Contributors

      Acknowledgments

      Two Worlds

      By Antje Bothin

      Living in two worlds

      Can be challenging but really cool

      Two countries I got to know

      And two faces of Situational Mutism

      One, quiet and invisible

      Unseen, unheard in public

      The other, loud and chatty

      A confident leader at home

      The world of black, red and gold

      Struggles with humour and joy

      The world of royalty, shepherd’s pie and tea

      So polite and nice, who would not stay

      Living in two worlds

      Can be enlightening and really great

      It opens the window to new opportunities

      So freedom can say hello

      ~~~

      AI Is a Poet, I Am a Human

      By Christopher Arkwright

      The door is big.

      Now tell me your emotions.

      Do you feel dominated

      By the weight of opportunities?

      Does it remind you of a church

      And ignite a religious fervour in your soul?

      Now what if I told you

      The door is just big.

      And that’s it.

      Do you feel angry?

      Do you want more?

      Ok.

      The door is also long.

      You seem to be screaming.

      It seems you want more.

      Fine, it’s red.

      Now you are happy.

      For a moment.

      Basking in the satisfaction of

      Identifying colour imagery.

      But it doesn’t mean anything

      You tell me.

      I tell you it does

      I am an AI and I tell you

      It is a commentary

      On the nature of poems

      Some incredibly intelligent references

      To critics later,

      You still tell me.

      No.

      That it is not poetry.

      And I ask,

      Aren’t you the one

      Who died a million times

      For freedom of expression?

      Aren’t you the human?

      ~~~

      Angels with Pencils

      By Angela Townsend

      I always thought poets were a higher life form.

      This is likely because my mother is one, and she is the closest thing I have seen to a seraph on this heavy earth.

      She is one in many millions, a liquid storyteller who spins gold from syntax. She can spell a memory in letters that feel like a mail from home, smuggling meaning into beauty. She will make you laugh and make you praise and make you remember you are not alone.

      She will always make me want to be a better writer.

      From my first poetic infatuations, play-dates with Emily Dickinson and Rumi, I knew I was no poet. I am an unsteady stack of pancakes beside their petits fours. I am the essay in excess, undisciplined flapping beneath their balloons.

      Poetry breathes life into me, vital infusions against the hammering day. It is much easier to ply my petulant trade or scoop the litter box, clip coupons for pickles or pluck my eyebrows, so long as my lungs are light with Mary Oliver and David Whyte, Brian Doyle and Mom.

      The very title of the magazine Poets and Writers implies two different species, silk swans vs. ducklings in dungarees. I am at peace with my place in this cosmology, grateful just to be in the pond.

      But I have stubborn friends who see seraphs splashing in the sludge.

      There is May, an octogenarian who responds to my emails with exclamation points punctuated by words. I tell her I’m praying for her, and she proclaims my patter poetry. I shoot Facebook messages reminding her she’s radiant, and she insists they are newborn stars. We snap God-moments back and forth from the album of the mundane, and she prints my mushy missives. Poetry!

      I scold May: I’m blithering.

      Poetry!

      There is Priya, avid reader of my organization’s newsletter, who lives behind kind lenses. Her rose haze likely translates the back of the Cap’n Crunch box into sonnets. She is kind and delusional: Your writing is music.

      I scold Priya: That was an article about litter box maintenance.

      Everything can be music.

      There is Stella, stubborn, a poetry glutton. She inspects my Instagram posts, exhuming individual flecks of glitter from the graveyard of the inane. She shares my slobbering with serious seraphs, reporting back with smugness: Therese says you are a visual poet.

      I scold Stella: It’s an Instagram caption.

      It’s a gift to the world.

      I suppose that is what I’m after. If writing is the one thing I’m sure I’m meant to do — writing and loving, which overlap in a full lunar eclipse in my case — I want to make it an offering.

      I suppose I approach my email and my Instagram, my litter literature and my letters, like fireflies. They are small and ubiquitous, common as clover. But if they can cast a little light, I will line up jars as long as there are nights.

      I know I’m no poet, no master artisan like my mother. I am an essayist at best, a vomit comet at worst. My writing is humid and unkempt, overgrown and under-crafted.

      But I can’t dispute that everything should be music.

      I can’t stop doing the one

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