Poetry Reading at Luna Books (Theme: Movies and Books)
On 30-July, 2023, a few poets gathered at Luna Books, Jubilee hills, Hyderabad, to read their poems on the themes: Movies and Books.
The poets at the Reading:
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and the bookstore:
The Reading opened with Shilpa and Prasad of Luna Books narrating the story behind 'Luna', followed by our host, Dipen Jallan, opening the Reading with a poem titled Rain by Don Paterson.
Selected poems
(Few: at the Reading; Few: via E-mail)
Baby Love
By Advik Murarka
Babies babies babies everywhere
Did you know that babies are running
a secret company called "Baby corp"?
To protect their own kind
To keep themselves happy
and most important of all
To spread baby love.
You must have guessed by now -- my favourite movie is "Boss Baby".
Advik is 11 yrs and is passionate about building houses. He loves origami and other craft work. He has recently stepped in the world of poetry and is loving it.
Love Forever
By Divya Murarka
Etched in my memory from childhood,
is my first favourite movie of Bollywood.
Love at first glance was something which excited me,
the innocence of the characters touched my heart,
eloping with your sweetheart was revolutionary to me,
and the commitment to be with one another was amazing.
The melody of the songs lingered in my soul and I hummed them to my dad for days to come.
More than anything else, as the name suggests "Qayamat se Qayamat Tak"
fitted in my frame of love forever.
I thought by eloping or by dying for each other, your love becomes eternal.
It was only life which taught me that nothing remains forever.
It is only in the mystic laws of divine love that you find eternity.
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About the Poet:
Divya is a scientific writer and is honing her poetic skills. She loves to spend time with her son and muses about parenting in her book "Purnah-the complete parent".By Anoohya
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the foolest of them all?
Is it the one who asks the dumbest questions all the time?
Or is it the one who never asks anything their whole lifetime?
The mirror pondered this question sublime.
He replied, the one who asks the dumbest questions, all the time.
He asked me to read between the lines,
Of poems, where bright fires shine.
He told me, all the poets, fine, had questions like mine.
Of poems, where bright fires shine.
He told me, all the poets, fine, had questions like mine.
About the Poet:
Anoohya is a 12th grader and a poet.
By Sri Vashnavi
A leaflet once drew me in
It left me baffled, in a way I didn’t understand
A silence rose in me, amidst all the surrounding din
And made my thoughts slippery like sand
The letters, the commas, the colons, the spaces
All spoke to me like a familiar, long-lost friend
They knew me well, and all my quirky cases
All their black stains told me I was on a mend
And you know how they talk, an irony?
Yes, in utter silence, sweet and sometimes insipid
And you know what makes them a felony?
Yes, the way they can clench my heart and yet make me sensitive and tepid
Oh! How can I ever forget the best part?
Their rusty scent, the swirls of tender page-turning
Oh! The soft fear of the pages crawling the end near
Their richness of emotions, myths, fables of real and false
Churns out a fecund new universe, mine own with ornate walls
With characters stripped down to their last real self
Holding a uniqueness of hat, cloth, and flower
Holding a distinctiveness of eye, palm, and color
They turn me, a simpleton to a sage
They burn within me, a gradual craving and every rage
And I myself gauge, with every page, where can I next forage?
A leaflet once drew me in,
And I never left, I never returned.
And I never left, I never returned.
About the Poet:
Sri Vaishnavi is working as a content strategist. She has been passionate about words and reading since school and has been a part of the lampshade family for about a year now. She is also a classical dancer (Kuchipudi), and practice flow arts (hula hooping) regularly. For her, poetry is a platter for the internal conflict that she faces from time to time and more often than not, a friend that taps on my shoulder to say "hey, is all well?"By Apurva Yadavalli
As the lights go off and begins the show,
You absorb the projection and watch in awe;
You hear someone giggle, laugh or applaud,
The voices within you are also loud!
A train, a flight or even the rain,
The joy, the spark and also the pain,
I experience life through the movies,
Even before I see how the outside world is!
It can titillate you, entertain you,
Push you into fits of laughter too,
Touch you and make your heart sink,
Sometimes it does make you really think!
About the Poet:
Apurva is a 28-year-old Engineer from Hyderabad. She is passionate about writing and poetry. Her collection of poems were published in a book titled "Unprecedented" and writes in her blog with the
Connecting the Reel and Real
By Jennie Kakkad
Lights, camera, action! Let’s take a peek,
Into the world of films, a treasure keep,
From silver screens to the cinematic glamor,
Imagination soars and spirits clamor.
A tapestry woven with moments & emotions,
Reveal glories with heartfelt notions,
Challenges conventions, breaks isolation,
In the embrace, looks for a connection.
But behind the scenes, magic secretly adheres,
Symphony of talent & sleepless nights appears,
Amidst the chaos, in the depths of darkness,
Dreams take flight, in a world so boundless.
About the Poet:
Jennie is a writer with a deep passion for the written word. She weaves captivating tales that leave readers spellbound. When not conjuring magic with her words, she loves day dreaming, introspecting, and having lighthearted and meaningful conversations with her son. Two poems
By Nivedita
By Nivedita
S R K
Love wore jeans and t-shirt
And spread its arms
Doing chaiyya chaiyya
And giving dil ko araaam.
Even if I had no clue
what was going on
My heart beat faster
Looking at this scruffy-haired man.
Tens of movies later,
I learnt love is not
What is seen or unseen
But what is felt
And
Whenever I think of love
S R K is how it is spelt!
A Chetak & the Single Screen Theater
Single screen theater was rides on the Chetak
when our uncle dropped my aunt and me at 35 MM Devi.
‘Only two tickets for males’ read the counter board
that was overcrowded with cinema-fanatics!
In our house, it was our Ammamma!
She loved movies as much as she loved making mutteelu.
And Saturdays meant: Feeding us Sambar-annam, and then orchestrate our movements — who’d ride on the chetak and who’d walk; who’d stay back or the door, who’d lock.
Reaching the theater, my aunt and I would purchase 14 tickets and wait for our Ammamma, uncle, aunts, and cousins, to join us at the gate.
A movie before a movie. That was our single screen story.
Glossary:
Love wore jeans and t-shirt
And spread its arms
Doing chaiyya chaiyya
And giving dil ko araaam.
Even if I had no clue
what was going on
My heart beat faster
Looking at this scruffy-haired man.
Tens of movies later,
I learnt love is not
What is seen or unseen
But what is felt
And
Whenever I think of love
S R K is how it is spelt!
A Chetak & the Single Screen Theater
Single screen theater was rides on the Chetak
when our uncle dropped my aunt and me at 35 MM Devi.
‘Only two tickets for males’ read the counter board
that was overcrowded with cinema-fanatics!
In our house, it was our Ammamma!
She loved movies as much as she loved making mutteelu.
And Saturdays meant: Feeding us Sambar-annam, and then orchestrate our movements — who’d ride on the chetak and who’d walk; who’d stay back or the door, who’d lock.
Reaching the theater, my aunt and I would purchase 14 tickets and wait for our Ammamma, uncle, aunts, and cousins, to join us at the gate.
A movie before a movie. That was our single screen story.
Glossary:
Ammamma – maternal grandma
mutteelu – mutton kebabs
sambar annam – sambar and rice
About the Poet:
Nivedita N is a poet from Hyderabad. She enjoys cycling, gallivanting the streets of Hyderabad in an auto rickshaw, her dream vehicle. She hopes to be a postwoman someday.
The Daring Sailor
By Sudheendra Fadnis
In the midst of the storm
And the ravaging winds
While the sky is roaring
With its deafening thunder
Oh, Sailor! Never lose hope. Never lose hope.
The turbulent sea with its unrelenting will
And those appalling tumultuous waves
With their ominous splashing sounds
Threatening to rob you of your breath
Oh, Sailor! Never lose hope. Never lose hope.
You have in you:
The wrath of a volcano
The spirit of a typhoon
The strength of a tornado
And the courage of a sea monster.
Therefore, Oh Sailor! Never lose hope. Never lose hope.
Words and Books
By Hima Bindu Chintalapati
Words and books
Both are quite different
From each other
Yet when words are
Framed into poems or prose
Fiction or nonfiction
They have to be binded into books
When different books are collected
together
They form into library
Two different worlds
Incomplete without each other
Just like the ecosystem of this earth.
About the Poet:
Hima Bindu Chintalapati works in Shadan women's college of engineering and technology, Khairatabad, as a librarian. Her passion is writing poetry. She has written two solo books called "Naturalia" & " Silent Nights" on poetry of Nature, which is now available on Amazon and Kobo.
The Movie Star
By Ananya Sarkar
As she sat rapt
Caught in the glimmer of the silver screen
The clock forgot to tick
Causing time to still
And she entered the screen
Becoming the lead
Starring
In the movie of her life.
About the Poet:
Meera’s Book
By Maanasa Meera
When I imagine de Niro
I idolize my journey
that which did not happen
but in the wilderness
when I close my eyes
I hear these words, in Italian
Voglio vivere così
Glossary:
Voglio vivere così: I don't want to live like that, and neither should you
About the Poet:
Nam Perugu is a doctor and writer from Hyderabad that writes as many queer things as she possibly can. She once accidentally learned a new language. Insta: @poetry.penguin.
The Daring Sailor
By Sudheendra Fadnis
In the midst of the storm
And the ravaging winds
While the sky is roaring
With its deafening thunder
Oh, Sailor! Never lose hope. Never lose hope.
The turbulent sea with its unrelenting will
And those appalling tumultuous waves
With their ominous splashing sounds
Threatening to rob you of your breath
Oh, Sailor! Never lose hope. Never lose hope.
You have in you:
The wrath of a volcano
The spirit of a typhoon
The strength of a tornado
And the courage of a sea monster.
Therefore, Oh Sailor! Never lose hope. Never lose hope.
Words and Books
By Hima Bindu Chintalapati
Words and books
Both are quite different
From each other
Yet when words are
Framed into poems or prose
Fiction or nonfiction
They have to be binded into books
When different books are collected
together
They form into library
Two different worlds
Incomplete without each other
Just like the ecosystem of this earth.
About the Poet:
Hima Bindu Chintalapati works in Shadan women's college of engineering and technology, Khairatabad, as a librarian. Her passion is writing poetry. She has written two solo books called "Naturalia" & " Silent Nights" on poetry of Nature, which is now available on Amazon and Kobo.
By Ananya Sarkar
As she sat rapt
Caught in the glimmer of the silver screen
The clock forgot to tick
Causing time to still
And she entered the screen
Becoming the lead
Starring
In the movie of her life.
About the Poet:
Ananya Sarkar is a creative writer from Kolkata. Her work has been published in various ezines. She loves to go on long walks, cloud gaze and ponder upon miracles. She can be found on Instagram @just_1ananya and reached at ananya7891@gmail.com.
Meera’s Book
By Maanasa Meera
She entered the old government library in a brown pant, black t-shirt and messy hair.
I was looking at her from a distance
She never came to my section but this day was different
She picked me from the corner shelf
It's been 12 years nobody selected me
They consider me as old and boring! At the end I am classics and
I reckon classics are dead but she poured life into me
She selected me like an angel
I guess Hindus are correct, I am reincarnated
She held me close to herself
So, close my each and every character was imprinted on her mind likewise
I know the best and worst of her
She talked, scolded, cried, blushed and even faltered me at times
She took me everywhere (even to restroom :P)
Never made me feel alone
She hunted me when I was not in her sight
She told people that I ignite her dreams
But
In reality she pours life in me by never treating me like a mere object
They say nothing is forever
I know!
One day she will be gone
But please my request
Bury me with her
Because
I want to live and die with her forever
About the Poet:
Maanasa Meera is a storyteller and writer from Hyderabad. She likes to pen her thoughts. At times, she pours life into animated objects through her words.
Maanasa Meera is a storyteller and writer from Hyderabad. She likes to pen her thoughts. At times, she pours life into animated objects through her words.
De Niro scratches my mind
By Sandeep Kulshrestha
A scoff
a kind smile
head bent or up
the nod that transforms
an octogenarian Odessey into
an intern.
The gangster who was
a painter and carpenter,
Celluloid dogma in a detailed form
An enigma with words
A scripture well-tuned
The gait of a man
Matinee or a night idol
Depends on my monologues.
With self
Or a treatise on
living gracefully till the very end
By Sandeep Kulshrestha
A scoff
a kind smile
head bent or up
the nod that transforms
an octogenarian Odessey into
an intern.
The gangster who was
a painter and carpenter,
Celluloid dogma in a detailed form
An enigma with words
A scripture well-tuned
The gait of a man
Matinee or a night idol
Depends on my monologues.
With self
Or a treatise on
living gracefully till the very end
When I imagine de Niro
I idolize my journey
that which did not happen
but in the wilderness
when I close my eyes
I hear these words, in Italian
Voglio vivere così
Glossary:
Voglio vivere così: I don't want to live like that, and neither should you
About the Poet:
Sandeep is a poet, writer, and a business coach. The theme of majority of his poems is love and relationships. He is Hyderabad based and writes in both English and Hindi.
Movie Mania
By Shrey Rodricks
“We are going for a movie!”
Like the boarding call of a flight!
Hurried dinner, changing, rush to the car park.
Usual traffic seemed rush hour
Stop signals taking longer to turn green,
“Are we late? Hope we reach on time,
tickets are to be bought..”
Racing against time.
One locks the car,
The other rushes to the ticket counter.
Huffing, puffing, tickets in hand..
Few minutes to get popcorn tubs,
And a drink or two.
All set for a perfect evening.
Gates open, one step, two steps
up we go, ushered by the feeble torchlight,
Sinking in the seat as the lights dim.
Large screen blazes, surround sound blasts,
In a cocoon, consciousness tunes into the
make belief world of love, laughter, tears
sobs, thrills and anxieties.
And it begins…
Scream Show
By Shravan K
When the backdrop of the stage in the auditorium hall was a dull white,
a happy murmur rippled across the group of children walking in twos.
'Screen show' were two magic words and bets were quickly made about who would engage our attention for two-three hours,
Was it Sant Tukaram or was it Luv-kusha?
And would they be in colorful clothes or black and white?
Bribes of saturday cakes and Sunday pizzas were thrown around for better spots.
Giraffe necked we would attempt to learn about projectors and film
Making calls on when the setup was ready and the screening would start.
And when the lights died,
A thousand eyes lit up.
“We are going for a movie!”
Like the boarding call of a flight!
Hurried dinner, changing, rush to the car park.
Usual traffic seemed rush hour
Stop signals taking longer to turn green,
“Are we late? Hope we reach on time,
tickets are to be bought..”
Racing against time.
One locks the car,
The other rushes to the ticket counter.
Huffing, puffing, tickets in hand..
Few minutes to get popcorn tubs,
And a drink or two.
All set for a perfect evening.
Gates open, one step, two steps
up we go, ushered by the feeble torchlight,
Sinking in the seat as the lights dim.
Large screen blazes, surround sound blasts,
In a cocoon, consciousness tunes into the
make belief world of love, laughter, tears
sobs, thrills and anxieties.
And it begins…
About the Poet:
Shrey Verma Rodricks, originally from Bihar, lives in Hyderabad. She has Masters degrees in Environmental Biology, Forestry, Special Education. Her keen interest in English and Hindi literature evoked her passion for writing prose and poetry. She has also taken to painting.
Scream Show
By Shravan K
When the backdrop of the stage in the auditorium hall was a dull white,
a happy murmur rippled across the group of children walking in twos.
'Screen show' were two magic words and bets were quickly made about who would engage our attention for two-three hours,
Was it Sant Tukaram or was it Luv-kusha?
And would they be in colorful clothes or black and white?
Bribes of saturday cakes and Sunday pizzas were thrown around for better spots.
Giraffe necked we would attempt to learn about projectors and film
Making calls on when the setup was ready and the screening would start.
And when the lights died,
A thousand eyes lit up.
About the Poet:
Shravan K is an emerging poet and enjoys doodling, traveling and finding dragons in the clouds. A good coffee and a biscoff cheesecake is how you can buy him off.
Lord Above
By Nam Perugu
Lord above, the dust
Wouldn't settle.
He'd been riding
Twenty miles, and
The two hundred
Head of steer
Razed the land ahead
Dust drove into
The cowboy's eyes
Fierce and narrow above
The bandana on his face
Lord above, what he
Wouldn't give for a rest.
His horse under him
Whinnied as they crossed
A sweet mountain stream
So he stopped.
The dogs snapped
At the cattle
Taming them
The cowboy set up camp.
Alone under the stars,
The fire kept away wolves
And the dogs would
Deter coyotes and
His gun would
Put paid to outlaws.
Lord above, he should feel safe
But he'd only ever felt safe
In his lover's arms, and that
Wicked man was long gone.
He was alone on the trail.
By Nam Perugu
Lord above, the dust
Wouldn't settle.
He'd been riding
Twenty miles, and
The two hundred
Head of steer
Razed the land ahead
Dust drove into
The cowboy's eyes
Fierce and narrow above
The bandana on his face
Lord above, what he
Wouldn't give for a rest.
His horse under him
Whinnied as they crossed
A sweet mountain stream
So he stopped.
The dogs snapped
At the cattle
Taming them
The cowboy set up camp.
Alone under the stars,
The fire kept away wolves
And the dogs would
Deter coyotes and
His gun would
Put paid to outlaws.
Lord above, he should feel safe
But he'd only ever felt safe
In his lover's arms, and that
Wicked man was long gone.
He was alone on the trail.
About the Poet:
Nam Perugu is a doctor and writer from Hyderabad that writes as many queer things as she possibly can. She once accidentally learned a new language. Insta: @poetry.penguin.
Other poets at the Reading:
Pictures courtesy: Rajarshi (Insta: @inlovewithlens)
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