JAYITA BHATTACHARJEE (M.S.) AUTHOR, NOVELIST, JOURNALIST (EDEN, OM TIMES, WATKINS MBS, KINDRED SPIRIT) FORMER INSTRUCTOR
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HOW POETRY HEALS
AN INJURED SOUL
BY
JAYITA BHATTACHARJEE
https://www.amazon.com/HOW-POETRY-HEALS-INJURED-SOUL-ebook/dp/B07YJYYN1P?ref_=ast_sto_dp
'To find the verses in the bark of a tree, to seek the music in raindrops drumming upon the thirsty earth, to be sheltered in the silence lingering between the words, to search for a song of the fallen leaves, to revel in the gold of the olden times, to lend the ears as the earthen spirit softly speaks, to let the tales whisper from the wispy winds of how the tree stood the test of time. This is the timeless truth of which the poet often writes for in the heart of the ancient woods where the river freely runs so wild, there upon the riverbed sits the truth of all truths...how poetry holds them all'.....Jayita Bhattacharjee
'To find the verses in the bark of a tree, to seek the music in raindrops drumming upon the thirsty earth, to be sheltered in the silence lingering between the words, to search for a song of the fallen leaves, to revel in the gold of the olden times, to lend the ears as the earthen spirit softly speaks, to let the tales whisper from the wispy winds of how the tree stood the test of time. This is the timeless truth of which the poet often writes for in the heart of the ancient woods where the river freely runs so wild, there upon the riverbed sits the truth of all truths...how poetry holds them all'.....Jayita Bhattacharjee
'You are not the rhymeless rhyme carried in a poem, you are not the broken beauty scattered as the shards, you are not the fallen petal strewn on the streets, but you are the bloom hanging on the boughs with colors in feast'.... ..
How Poetry Heals An Injured Soul
How Poetry Heals An Injured Soul
It is the deepest cut that leaves the memories to pen a prose as in the chill of winter the wind blows over a fallen bloom for life is a mix of love and loss and someday a writer comes to .pick up the pieces and craft a story for now they rise from the ashes of loss to the lips of life. As those olden times strike, the memories are alight as nostalgia blooms as the flowers for the strings gently weep.....Jayita Bhattacharjee