heart links

- in - chief
Editor
Gautam
Samir
Director
Editorial
Otuu Egbuta
Ikechukwu
Issue 2
November 15
online literary magazine
H E A R T L I N K S
Unfolding
The
Featuring
Poet Fibby Bob Kinney
Poet Matin
Hidden
POETRY
FICTION
PROSE
ARTICLES
QUOTATIONS
INTERVIEWS
LITERARY APPRECIATIONS
SHORT STORIES
ESSAYS
NON FICTION

HEART LINKS
Literary Magazine
VOL 1
ISSUE 2
November 2020
©2020 Heart links literary magazine. All rights reserved.

HEART LINKS is an online digital
magazine , aiming to make itself a globally
recognised platform . The second issue is
the collection of excellent write ups
which includes poems, quotations, and
individual opinions.
We are immensely thrilled to bring the second
issue vol 1 of "HEART LINKS " magazine. The
second issue is the compilation of excellent
oeuvres from well reputed and esteemed writers
across the globe.
We hope this issue would highly inspire the new
emerging youths to read and learn literature , for
Peace , love and Humanity is the only motive .
sincerely,
Samirgt
- in - chief
Editor
Samir Gautam

FROM THE DESK OF THE
EDITORIAL DIRECTOR
Heart Links Magazine Vol I edition is a monthly publication featuring griots, raconteurs, poetry, fiction, prose, quotations,
interviews, literary appreciations, short stories, essays, etc, conceived and executed by Samir Gautam and his crew ,
which i have now contributed few words of rambling thoughts. With kin bravado, the magazine cuts across major
genres of the literary arts, knitting hearts and souls from different countries and ethic backgrounds, and announcing its
quantum leap, not just in the hall of fame of world acclaim widely read global literary magazines, but a full realisation
that writers participate in the estate of world literature in which "Heart Links Literary Magazine" is one of its undeniable
testimonies by any standard.
Another way of addressing testimonies like this in the practice of the literary art is partly because of the indepth
knowledge embedded in art; the other half being that the study and practice of literature is seen by many as something
that does not demand the kind of mental process involved in the practice of pure and applied sciences. This is why
every argument for literature has always been there question of of the existence of the art object beginning from Plato
who accused Homer of "anthropomorphic representation of Greek gods" in "Book 10" of his 'Republic' to the present
time.
Hans-George Gadamer in his "Truth and Method" questions thus:
“Is there to be no knowledge in art? Does not the experience of art contain a claim to truth which is certainly
different from that of science, but just as certainly is not inferior to it? And is not the task of aesthetics precisely to
ground the fact that the experience of art is a mode of knowledge of a unique kind, certainly different from that sensory
knowledge which provides science with the ultimate data from which it constructs the knowledge of nature, and certainly
different from all moral rational knowledge, and indeed from all conceptual knowledge — but still knowledge, i.e.,
conveying truth?”
In "The Origin of the Work of Art" Martin Heidegger argued that the work of art demands to be read and preserved in its
own essential nature, and "everyone who has seriously studied literature knows that the mental process involved is
coherent and progressive as the study of science" (Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism). Therefore, the overall subject
matter of the contents of this volume still speaks to the realities that "Heart Links Literary Magazine" is a collation of
critical and creative minded individuals from the world over who think in the habit of thought of Renè Descartes "cogito
ergo sum" "I think therefore I am." Upon engaging on the sentences and paragraphs of this global magazine, one is
sure going to encounter that which is most thought provoking.
Department of languages and Communication Arts, Federal Polytechnic, Offa, Kwara State, Nigeria.
Sincerely,
ikechukwu

Dev Sharma
Krishna
(1987-2077)
We the editorial crew of Heart Links Literary Magazine wish to express our deep and sincere pain over the demise of
the grandpa of our Chief editor Samir Gautam. His late grandpa was a perfect description of an "old library" as he
contributed immensely to the growth and development of the academia through various humanitarian services. The
late grandpa truly lived and showed sincere commitment in everything he did while here with us. We will greatly miss
him, and it is our prayer that God in his infinite mercy grant him eternal rest. If we meet again, we will rejoice, our
stay was well made. Keep resting dear grandpa until we meet to part no more.

TABLE OF CONTENTS
SHORT STORY
Prince Of Weeds by Fibby Bob Kinney
03
ARTICLES
The Quest Of Meaning And Identity Amidst Obscurities Of Life by Comfort
Nyati
07
POETRY
Icarus And The Sun by Merlin Priyadharsini
Pen And Paper by Roshni Gurung
Half Me And Half You by Muhammad Waqas Gul
Mask Up Or Else by Ndaba Sibanda
Dogs chasing car by Colin James
The Moon And The Rose by Katherine Abraham
I Behold Your Face In Dream by Obinna Chilekezi
Incomplete by Eadbhard McGowan
10
11
12
13
14
15
17
18
Eagerly Waiting by Dipto Rhid Matin
19
I Am Born Pure by Aparna Paranjape
The Mariner's Lamp by Ramachandran MA
Purity by Jasper Kesteloo
Then And Now by Fibby Bob Kinney
Dirty Environment by Sarita Aryal
Winter Is Coming Soon by Emmanuel Lawrence
Breaking The Barriers by Douglas Perry Massa
20
21
22
23
25
26
27

QUOTATIONS
Love By Merlin Priyadharsini 30
By Douglas Perry Massa 31
ART
Paintings by Sangeeta Dutta
Paintings by Dipin Ghimire
33
38

SHORT STORIES AND ARTICLES
1

Vol 1 Issue 2 November 2020
PRINCE
WEEDS
OF
By Fibby Bob Kinney
n a kingdom that was located in the deep forest
there lived a young prince. On his 21st. Birthday
he left the castle of his parents to go out on his
own.With the strong hands he built a beautiful
cottage in the center of the deep forest. He labored
day and night to make it as beautiful as it was
grand.
He grew flowers of all varieties. Rose bushes where
as a wall of beauty that surrounded his cottage.
Orchids flourished beneath the fountain that was
in front of the cottage. Daffodils and
Chrysanthemums grew in splendid abundance.
Even daisies, with their vibrant color adorned the
landscape that surrounded this magical cottage.
I
3

Naturally, the birds, bees and butterflies adored these gardens. They would flock there
every day to play and pollinate the flowers.
The birds, who lived deep in the forest would often get up early in the morning and fly
miles over the forest just to come to the cottage and play with, not only the flowers, but
the prince in person.“Prince Greenery” as he called himself actually developed a way
to talk to the birds. It was a shrill whistle that he communicated his thoughts to them.
He even learned how to interpret their chirps...he could actually carry on a
conversation with the birds.
One day a group of swallows that lived in the deep forest flew to him. They were
excited to speak about what they had found.
“Prince Greenery”, one brave swallowtail announcer, “ in our part of the forest we have
discovered a new plant. It is bright green and is very special. When the Sun is strong
and shines its hot rays down on these plants... they begin to sway and when they get
really hot, they give off a special aroma that is so pleasing, we to swoon to it!”
The prince was curious. He whistled his response to the swallows..” I have read in a magical
book that such a plant exists. They called it, “marijuana”. I would like to see this plant up
close. Can you bring some of these plants to me?”
The next day, the swallows carefully gathered up some of these small plants and carried
them back to the prince.He immediately planted them in his greenhouse. In a short time the
plants not only grew but multiplied as well.
Soon the whole greenhouse was full of these cannabis plants..and eventually, they made
their way out into the garden around the house.
The prince had been watching all this going on and he did not stop it. These green
plants had a very pleasant scent. When he was around them he felt very nice. All his
worries seemed to disappear and this made him happy.When the Sun was high in the
sky, and the day hot...the “pot” plants (his nickname for them) would go into a dance
before him. They would swing and sway their long leaves. Like a bevy of tiny belly
dances all calling him to come closer.
He became mesmerized by them. He would put his nose close to the leaves and sniff in
their fragrance. It came to a point -where that was all he wanted to do. All day, and
even into the night....he would bury his head in the plants and sniff in their dreaming
beauty.
4

The voyeur Moon would watch this and sometimes try to find a cloud to hide behind.
The Moon knew this was not the good thing, the prince was fooled to believe he was
safe but the plants had the better of him.Not only the prince, but all the beautiful
flowers too. They were neglected and some were dying because the prince had
forgotten to feed them and give them water.The beautiful gardens were filled with
weeds. Even the birds, bees and butterflies were taken in by these mystical plants. All
they wanted to do was sniff in that intoxicating feeling. They would just lay there and
not even pollinate the dying flowers.
Prince Greenery could see this happening but he was powerless to stop it. So good it
felt to dunk his head into those swaying plants that he could not stop them for having
their way with him.He got so desperate, he changed his name from Prince Greenery..
to “The Prince of Weeds” he thought all Hope was gone.It was then a very strange
thing happened. A goat that had been wandering around the forest found its way to
the Cottage.The goat was curious and saw the door to the greenhouse was open. He
went inside and saw the prince with his head buried in a pile of cannabis.
As soon as the plants saw the goat they went into their ritual. They began to
swing and sway to make the goat come closer to smell their fragrance.The goat
did come closer.. but to their dismay and horror, the goat did not smell them.
Instead the goat said, “Wow! These plants look Delicious !!!”In less than an hour
he ate all the plants.He lay there his belly full, almost to bursting...he said,
aloud!..”Oh, Yea, that was cool...I’m totally busted!”The prince woke up and shook
his head. He then spoke directly to the goat in whispered whistling speech ( the
goat understood bird language )
Oh, thank you, fine goat. You have freed me from this spell. I will care for my flowers and
make them beautiful again. I’m once more, “ Prince Greenery!”...how can I reward you?”
The goat thought about it and said ,
“You are welcome, Dude! Glad I could help you..and yea, man, your cottage and
flowers are really Dope! ( in this expression -meaning Cool.”)
He then smiled and said, “ thanks for the snack, big daddy, I’m gonna leave you
with this advice...
If you encounter any more of those plants...do not sniff or smoke them... find
yourself a “goat” pal like me...who only gets “high” on a good Salad !!!
5

COMFORT NYATI IS A ZIMBABWEAN WHO BELONGS TO THE SALESIANS
OF DON BOSCO. HE IS CURRENTLY PURSUING HIS MASTERS DEGREE IN
PHILOSOPHY AT THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF EASTERN AFRICA
(CUEA), NAIROBI-KENYA. HIS LITERARY WORKS HAVE FEATURED IN
SEVERAL MAGAZINES INCLUDING WRITERS SPACE AFRICA MONTHLY
MAGAZINE, KILIVIEWS AND THE RECENTLY PUBLISHED POETRY
ANTHOLOGY (WORLDON THE BRINKS) IN NIGERIA. HE IS CURRENTLY
WORKING ON HIS FIRST ANTHOLOGY TO BE PUBLISHED LATER THIS
YEAR.
6

POETRY
9

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
ICARUS AND
THE SUN
ABOUT
THE
POET
Icarus, my beloved son!
Come, let us flee from Crete,
Neither high, close to the sun,
Nor too low; like a hawk we bate.
Follow my path of flight, my son,
For the wings are made of wax.
Do not fly too higher, hun,
For the sun would slash your wings as sax.
Do not bait lower near the sea,
For the dampness would pull you down.
Ensue your father, my son; trail me
Because you would be safe and lown.
Flap your wings and fly with me;
Icarus, my son, succeed your father ;
Let us soar safely to another country,
Elope from Crete and long live further.
Icarus, where are you?
Never be complacent and hubrid.
Have you gone out of my view?
How will I find you in the ocean's mid?
Merlin Priyadharshini is an aspiring
poet. She was born and raised in
Madurai, Tamil Nadu. She is
currently based in Bangalore after
her marriage. She is married to Mr.
Dias Raja who is a software engineer.
They have a year old twin boys now.
She has completed Electrical
Engineering from the Anna
University. She is a blogger and
freelance editor. She had always been
a poetry lover and began writing
poetry at her early teens. She likes
melodies and also accompanies
herself in the church choir much
often.
Lo! There you are my son!
Ashes of the wings hovering in the sky;
Burnt by the fierce, scorching sun,
Drowned in the sea, dead you lie.
10

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
A PEN AND
THE PAPER
ABOUT
THE
POET
A single piece of paper
And a pen,
Can describe millions of emotions
In a framed structure.
Saying something is very easy,
But to describe in a form of poetry is not!!
Instead of raising your voice,
Try to express through poems.
A single piece of paper and pen
Can Speak louder than our tongue.
By writing something you are releasing your feelings,
Which helps you to feel free ,
Whatever it is !!
Everytime a personal experience is not necessary to
create a poetry,
A poet should not be in a search of emotion.
A poet should concentrate on the number of experiences.
A poet can create emotion, and can
Conjure the emotion to create new things.
Take a pen and paper ,
And pour your heart out.
Maybe you are lonely
You don't have anyone to share something.
Roshni Gurung is from Jalpaiguri ,
west Bengal. she love s to write poetry,
because she believes that writing is
the best medicine to heal our mental
health. She is very passionate about
writing. Mostly she prefers to write
poetry, short stories and quotes.
11

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
HALF YOU
AND HALF
ME
ABOUT
THE
POET
I am the body you are the soul
You make me one and whole
You are the blood I am the vein
Your love has got me enchained Half of me is half of
you
Born to be together yes its true
I am the cloud you are the rain
You make me go completely insane
Dr Muhammad Waqas Gul resides in
a small town of Chashma,
Pakistan.He is a medical
doctor.Wrting English poetry and
sometimes prose is his passion.He
has been writing for past 4 years. His
favourite poet is John Keats.Travelling
and exploring new places are his
other favourite hobby.
You are the sun I am the flower
I want to soak in your sunrays shower
Half of me is half of you
Born to be together yes its true
I am the shore you are the ocean Our love is a wave
in fluid motion
You are the moon i am the night My soul brightens
with your light
Half of me is half of you.
12

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
MASK UP OR
ELSE
ABOUT
THE
POET
a teen got fed up
with looking out
of the window
and down he glided
and out he dashed
without a face mask
he broke Covid 19
protocols, touched
his face twice ,thrice
once inside the shop
he wandered through
its aisles till he was told
by an old store worker
to wear a face mask
or to get the hell out
he tried to justify stuff
I got bored with staring
out of the window at home
it shouldn’t be an issue
that I`m not wearing a mask
I don’t even wear an under…
Sibanda is the author of Notes,
Themes, Things And Other Things,
The Gushungo Way, Sleeping Rivers,
Love O’clock, The Dead Must Be
Sobbing, Football of Fools, Cuttingedge
Cache, Of the Saliva and the
Tongue, When Inspiration Sings In
Silence, The Way Forward,
Sometimes Seasons Come With
Unseasonal Harvests, As If They
Minded:The Loudness Of Whispers,
This Cannot Be Happening :Speaking
Truth To Power, The Dangers Of
Child Marriages:Billions Of Dollars
Lost In Earnings And Human Capital,
The Ndaba Jamela and Collections
and Poetry Pharmacy. Sibanda's work
has received Pushcart Prize and Best
of the Net nominations. Some of his
work has been translated into
Serbian.
but the worker would have
none of it, get the hell out
or else, I`II call the cops!
13

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
DOG
CHASING
CAR
ABOUT
THE
POET
Fatalism or Determinism?
Witness reliability is dependent on
the type of car and dog.
The dog ran like a Subaru
rode similar to a Boxer.
I felt more empathy for the car
always confined in a garage.
The dog had acquired some rust.
Turn those mirrors, that's an ear pointing.
If growled in a low guttural voice,
we may have a breakthrough or both.
-Poet Colin James
14

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
THE MOON
AND THE
ROSE
ABOUT
THE
POET
Dear Love,
It’s been a while
The world has spun 180 times
I seem to have lost my way
Though with you I know
Home is but a message away
As I stumble along destiny’s trail
The strength in me has begun to fail
Bright smiles to run the day
Hoping the loneliness, cover it may
How do I not miss you, my heart
As I stand alone, a thousand miles apart?
Jealous am I of the moon
Each night it watches over you
Softly as you sleep away
Dreaming about another day
Katherine Abraham is the Author of
Silenced by Love and Some Days are
Forever. An Adventist,, Katherine is a
teacher by profession, with degrees in
Law, Literature and Journalism. She
writes for various online publications
as well as Anthologies. She is also the
host for a New Podcast Series
entitled, Chasing Hope. Her fourth
novel "Every Sunset Has a Story" is
currently looking for a home.
And then this eve
As the day began to leave
Love played the lyre
A story ahead of me lay
One in which fate had no say
The sun began to scurry away
15

The blue sky spread its wing
Nature began to sing
A Rose leaned in across the ridge
Crossing infinity’s bridge
Kissed she the moon
Her red against his white
Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful sight!
HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
A story undefined
A tale untold
I saw their love
And heartbreak unfold
Moon smiled and shined
Rose bloomed and blushed
Bid he in haste
A breeze to sway her delicate waist
All night danced she for her love
Not a second, not a minute did she waste
Soon the sun began to peek
As a tear grew on Rose’s cheek
Good Moon, said the rising sun
Cinderella has had her fun
The moon slipped away
Giving way to a brand-new day
Kissed I the dew on Rose’s cheek
Her teardrop, a reminder not so weak
You and I may be far, my love
You and I may be far,
But if the Moon can love a Rose
Blessed are we, to be this CLOSE.
16

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
I BEHOLD
YOUR FACE
IN DREAM
ABOUT
THE
POET
I behold your face from afar
As a black smoke billowing in the air
O’ fog, you who have gone for long,
looming in this tiny air
Just like a sour dream of fevered night
I behold your face in dream
Reminiscence of a wonderful
Warm drenching of your presence
Just as raindrop plopping into my thirsty
tongue
Of honey, I wait for this mirage
Definitely this storm of desire ‘ll vapourised
Once again, your presence I will behold.
Obina Chilekezi is a Nigerian poet
born at Diobu Port Harcourt and
resides in Lagos. He is an insurance
practitioners and has written poems
published in journals. His collections
of poems entitled Songs of a Stranger
at the Smiling Coast and
Calligramme were published by Kraft
Books Ltd and Emotion Press
respectively.
17

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
INCOMPLET
E
ABOUT
THE
POET
Found old letters in a drawer,
like rustling, heaped, dry leaves,
which, letter by letter,
lead into serious realms,
a few were a laugh,
some encouraging and revealing.
They reflected a futile, perishable past.
Metaphors cheaper by the dozen.
Story beginnings, relationship endings.
Short stories with sad content,
curses and songs of hate,
long-sought-after rhymes and verses,
carved, pressed into white pages.
Concise irreversibility, final lines.
Sentences cut amidst by sharp blades.
Pages with many spots of tears.
Some letterheads in pink or purple
or smelling of violets.
One with traces of red lipstick on it.
I also found letters from me.
Unfinished, inconclusive,
in a state of limbo, indecisive,
broken off and never sent,
never mailed, forgotten legacies.
Stammering of words of love,
sound trivial when read today,
sweet talk, a little bit of levity,
platitudes, nothing of depth -
as fire now in the fireplace,
substitute for the heat,
which was never mediated,
never has been transmitted.
18
Eduard Schmidt-Zorner is a
translator and writer of poetry,
haibun, haiku and short stories.
He writes in four languages: English,
French, Spanish and German and
holds workshops on Japanese and
Chinese style poetry and prose and
experimental poetry.
Member of four writer groups in
Ireland and lives in County Kerry,
Ireland, for more than 25 years and
is a proud Irish citizen, born in
Germany.
Published in over 130 anthologies,
literary journals and broadsheets in
USA, UK, Ireland, Japan, Sweden, Italy,
Bangladesh, India, France, Mauritius,
Nigeria and Canada.
Some of his poems and haibun have
been published in Romanian and
Russian language.

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
EAGERLY
WAITING
ABOUT
THE
POET
Oh Bird, you are free,
You have no geographical boundaries,
Passport visa is not required.
You can fly yourself,
You fly on your own wings.
I will listen to your melodious songs, I'm so
anxious,
You won't come, my loved Bird?
You come from far away
And I count incessantly these days of
misery. I wait eagerly and the unfulfilled
feeling intoxicates me.
You are the sacred creation of nature, with
your delicious melody,
The dissatisfied soul feels Universal
peace. I will not have the opportunity, To
hear the melody!
O Bird! won't you sing a sweet song once?
* Name: Md. Abdul Matin
* Current Address: House
No.7/8
Flat No.5 / B
Sir Syed Road
Mohammadpur,
Dhaka-1207
Bangladesh.
* Date of birth: 21-09-1961
AD. * Educational
Qualification:
Bengali language and
literature University of
Dhaka.
19

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
I AM BORN
PURE
ABOUT
THE
POET
I am glad not sad
I am good not bad...
I was careful not careless
I am fearful was fearless....
I am irrresponsible not responsible
Forgot my power what I am able
I was compassionate not brutal
Brutality is mask compassion is Subtle
I am honest and pure
Beautiful and loving at core
Return to natural is my job
Tearing the upper mask is my job
Noone can help me for being natural
As i m born pure is my urge natural
Is it difficult Being focused on me?
Yes yes yes as I was away from me
Ignoring others for self recovery
Is not selfishness it's real bravery
Seize the opportunity grab the moment
Enjoy the truth, freedom not to comment
I am He, He is me
No need to search now who is me
Urge to merge in self is the key
I was I am and I will be
I will be , I will be .
Aparna Paranjape
is fascinated
towards
philosophy as a
seeker of truth.
She is born
and brought up
in Maharashtra ,
India. She is M
Sc , MA , B ed with
English Literature.
She teaches
Academic ENGLISH
for 10 /12 students
in private academy
pune
20

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
THE
MARINER'S
LAMP
ABOUT
THE
POET
With a Mariner's lamp
you dig and dig
even beyond
the bleeding petals,
beyond the fading
suicide note,
with a spade
of gravediggers,
you dig and dig
in chilly rain
until the shivering
of leaves
turns to be the blanket
of the abandoned,
with the solitude
of the lighthouse
in foggy rain,
you dig and dig
the sorrow
of the nightfall
until the darkness
of rain deepens,
deepens further
down the river.
I was born in 1968. I got my
postgraduati -on in English from the
University of CalicutI find money for
living by occasional teach-ing. I don't
have any possession except mysmall
room and a few books I keep
there.Since poetry is my passion I
read a great many poets in almost
languages which areavailable in
English. Besides poetry I love farming
and travelling. As Paul Celan
somewhere said poetry is self
exploration to me. It's the temple of
being,in my opinion.I do believe there
is no great film or painting without
the delicate and magic touch of
poetry.
21

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
PURITY
ABOUT
THE
POET
I do not
Need any clothes
To cover me
I do not
Need any measures
To protect me
For my divinity
Is my protection
At all times
I awake to
The naked truth
22
Jasper Kesteloo is a Dutch poet,
translator and psychologist. Inspired
by the Light, he combines different
themes in his poems. They reflect
spiritual, religious and earthly beliefs,
thoughts, emotions and dreams with
all kind of colours. His poems carry a
message of the Light. They encourage
you to listen to your intuition, express
your true self, show compassion
towards each other, care about nature
and planet Earth. They emphasise to
turn your attention towards the
positive aspects in life and keep faith.
Be service oriented instead of ego
minded. Be love and act with love. It is
time for humanity to show deep
respect for Earth and nature, find
harmonious balance, create peace
and flourish. Currently he is working
on his debut poetry book which will
be unleashed soon. By sharing his
poetry he intends to spread Light and
Love on Earth and beyond.

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
THEN AND
NOW
ABOUT
THE
POET
I saw a picture of me then,
It was taken way back when,
My prime was in the past time,
When everything was new and fine.
Time is relentless in its forward march;
Beneath the dome of History’s arch.
It’s amazing to watch one grow,
With knowledge’s wealth they bestow.
The young mind expanded to its peak,
With all the treasure it does seek.
One thing age has in its favor,
It gives memories a fervent flavor.
Age is relentless with its whirlwind stance.
As upon this planet seeking romance.
Just as a wine aged in fervent grace;
The human being old age must face.
No one thinks they will ever grow old;
Especially when they are young and bold.
Age creeps by, unnoticed by most;
As Father Time, is the hidden host.
Fibby Bob Kinney is one of the
last of the “Beatnik” hippie poets
of the 1960’s.He was born on a
farm in rural Pennsylvania. He is
married and resides in Naples
Florida, USA.
He loves to write children stories
and fairytales.
His stories and poems can be found
at: Amazon Books.”
I, as the poet to this age old poem.
Must confess my life I did roam.
To find the secret to fill my quest,
That is, to know what I do best.
23

HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
Writing is my favorite tool.
From early age, it’s a golden rule.
When your life can be summed up in a
thought.
To your goal time’s clock has brought.
Find what makes your happiness grow,
In its pleasure you will know,
The meaning of what heaven sent;
A life of learning, while paying the rent.
This poem is a message to let all know,
These words upon you I bestow;
“Live as honestly as you can;
To be as innocent-as the day you began
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HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
DIRTY
ENVIRONME
NT
ABOUT
THE
POET
Listen to my outcry ,
Oh ! every passers-by ,
You tread on me ,
And various destination reach ,
Isn't your moral duty to see it ? ,
Early in the morning , you get yourself
complete detox ,
But sweepers and drivers do a bad hoax ,
wastes , garbages , litter scatter ,
Germs , ugliness , sewage ,
All made me a long speaded platter ,
I feel shame to carry them on my bosom ,
but you civilized being don't feel any
question in ,
very civility which you label as awesome.
Sarita Aryal is a lecturer.
She teaches Academic
ENGLISH for 11 / 12 in two
colleges. She is MA with
English Literature. She
was borned and reared up
in Butwal. From her very
early age she has been fond
of writing . Her few articles
has been successfully
published on several
magazines .
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HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
WINTER IS
COMING
SOON
Days gone
I'm still here waiting
To see if she comes out the next train
I've been searching all the plane
ABOUT
THE
POET
Night falls
I'm still here waiting
Beside the old town road
Wanting my phone to beep
A single text might make me float
Miss Me, our love is deep
Middle of the night
I'm yet to find sleep
My legs are in a cold water
No, I do not bother
I just need a conversation
This is Emmanuel Lawrence Dan
from Nigeria, African continent
He is native of Akwa Ibom state
He Reside in Uyo. He has been fond
of poetry from his very early age.
Next day
I've been to the airport
Checking on her thrice a day
I shouldn't have let you go
These miles can't handle my toes
No, it can't
I'll walk around
I'll wait on you my love
You'll soon be back
Maybe not today
Maybe I should wait yes
On winter because its coming soon.
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HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
P O E T R Y
BREAKING
THE
BARRIERS
ABOUT
THE
POET
It was but yesterday in the capital Lilongwe
:From the bissful garden
not so far away :
A song from the heart to the heart was
lavishly sang :
We let our bodies soothingly massaged by
the morning sun :
The rich and powerful voice of Cliff , not
only sang , but convincingly , declared the
barriers as broken .
All the strings that bind the hearts ,where
broken as everyone was left shaken :
Many an eye , were wet :
As the true meaning of the song we hardly
would forget :
Unity in diversity is the other theme of the
song :
Which dwells on one of man's prejudice :
As the love chalice :
Is shared to one and all :
With no doubt at all :
I will once again , tears of joy will shed :
Forever meaning to send :
A hand of Heavenly love to all :
We will stand the test of time :
No matter how slow the chime :
Yes we are loving warriors :
As we are set to break the barriers :
Cliff sing , and sing it louder than before :
For the hearts also have a door :
27
Douglas Perry MassaBorn
_ 12 / 2 / 1958Place
it Birth " Harare
Zimbabwe .Studied
at ;Donnybrook :
Primary Donnybrook :
highschool Specialties ,
Agriculture AGRON
OMY .Married , with
3 children ;All
girls .Hobbies : reading /
writing .Outdoor life

Today spread a smile to one and all :
Let not sadness befall :
Those who will cast this net of love :
That comes from above :
The DJ will play it again :
Clifford Mkanthama will blow his trumpet ,
and a fruit of joy for all to freely gain :
For this is a deathless , and Heavenly
bargain ;
HEART LINKS | ISSUE 2 | VOL 1 | NOVEMBER
28

QUOTATIONS
29

LOVE
The only force
That holds the whole universe
Together.
-Merlin Priyadharsini
30

Today is the father of the ertenal tomorrow,
And is equally the mother of the ertenal yesterdays .
Our yesterday was someones unborn tomorrow
Time has wings that fly some forward and some backwards for all
eternity .
-Douglas Perry Massa
31

PAINTINGS
32

This is Sangeeta Dutta. She is a professional artist.
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35

36

37

The artist of these drawings is Ghimire Dipin from Nepal. He is a
student of grade 6. He currently lives in Butwal. He has been
in drawings and art since his childhood.
interested
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Vol 1
Issue 2
November
Published on November 15