NEW HOPE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW ON-LINE

POETRY CHAIN, published in India, features poetry in English from South Asia and as far afield as Korea and Austria. This issue also includes a number of poems in translation, comments on publications received, an editorial which touches on recent international events, and poets' biographical details repeated three times (on the front cover, page 1 and page 39, which should satisfy even the most egotistical of poets).

Most of the poetry is written in free verse with a personal and sensual tone. Saudha Kasim's A DROP OF COLOUR starts POETRY CHAIN off:

	It fell upon the white tile steps as I came out
	Golden brown, sunlight streaming through honey —
	A drop of colour on the puritan surface—

	Do you think
	I fell in love with a girl
	because she has a creak
	between her thighs
	A creaking creak
	a belching crack

	....
	
	People are crazy
	because of this unstitched wound
	people
	do funny things
	use power, money and force
	for this unstitched wound
	It is an opening
	of a sewer pipe.

A poetry mag from India with a number of poems strong on atmosphere and scenic description, others with something of a histrionic, sentimental feel, and a few religious pieces, also rather overdone. THIS YEAR THE CLOUDS WERE DARKER by Ajay M.K. is quite expressive and detailed:

       This year the clouds were darker in my village.
       The downpour slung mud on the drumstick leaves with sombre thuds
       and the coconut trees swung much before moonlight;
       the green pond swelled and overflowed into the nearby canal
       hosting wild grass and sulking frogs
       and the cool water silently filled the fields around,
       snailing through.

 
       I feel a conflagration under my waist
       as I shape their thighs

       Maybe I am really getting old.
       I see two gold fish when just one swims.
       I see 14 days in a week.
       When I open my hands I see ten tombs.
       Were those twin towers burning? Where?
       Or just one?
       Dear one, my dear two,
       maybe I need those glasses after all.

Printed on thin paper, this magazine is a peephole into contemporary Indian poetry in the English langauge. There are a few contributions from outside, but the majority of poets here are from India. Typical of the writing is REPENTANCE AND RESOLVE by C.S. Shah:

	Now the teardop insists to be recognized,
	and is anxious to merge with oceanic spleandour,
	dreaming to become a pearl,
	deep down in the womb of one receptive oyster.

I found myself intrigued by a long review of a Penguin anthology of contemporary Indian poetry. The book is attacked as being full of unknown urban poets from Mumbai. I know too little of Indian poetic politics to be able to say whether this is sour grapes due to exclusion or genuine concern for the image of Indian poetry outside the country. Whichever, this magazine must be part of the answer in redressing the balance.

All but two of the contributors to Poetry Chain are from India, but their inclusion shows that the magazine is not exclusive.

Pleasing too is that the magazine publishes translations. Ravji Patel (b.1893) died under thirty but CROWD translated by Vihang Naik from Gujurati lives on:

	Before
	I take a step;
	even before the hair
	on the body stirs,
	the wind traps.

	At the day's ending evening falls with the soft sound of dew;
	The kite shakes the semll of the sun from her wings,
	And when earth's colours fade the fireflies weave
	A tapestry of brilliant stories,
	Birds return to their nests — all the rivers flow home —
					the ledger of life is closed;
	Only darkness remains, the time to return to Banalata Sen of Natore.

All told there is a lot be had from Poetry Chain.