Ann Arbor Review


Bilall Maliqi
Duane Locke
Eddie Awusi
Silvia Scheibli
Amit Parmessur
Lyn Lifshin
Juan Hongi
Shutta Crum
Peycho Kanev
Fahredin Shehu
Lana Bella
Laszlo Slomovits
Abdulrahman M Abu-  yaman
Elisavietta Ritchie
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Keith Moul
Aneek Chatterjee

Tom Evans
Robert Nisbet
Paul B. Roth
Alex Ferde
Alan Britt

Richard Gartee
Karyn M. Bruce

Ali Znaidi
Running Cub
John Grey

Jennifer Burd
Fred Wolven

Helen Gyigya

Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2018 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 51 years all together....

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cut
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:




Suddenly the mirror
began to talk
I was in a trance
and slowly multiplied  
One two three four Ö
And all tried to grab me
from obscure lanes & bylanes  
I thumbed my chest
and looked at the mirror

A black crater extended
its arms
One two three four Ö
All vanished into oblivion
only to resurface
somewhere in a hapless mirror 



For thousand years   
Iíve been searching this address
in backwaters and deserts,
in streets and hamlets Ö
Iíve been searching in human faces,
in corn fields 
and tramlines

Rains lashed and laughed at me
Winds often whispered: here you go,
look out for that corner Ö
Forests opened up their
eternal mysteries
for the address Iíve been exploring
since the dawn of mind   

Rocks smiled, and the mighty sun
dispatched powerful rays
to help me find the address
in dark; dogs barked to tell me
where to go, snakes hissed to discourage
from a forbidden path
camels took me for rides
on hot angry sands

Finally when I reached my address                  
I knew not where to go
which door to knock, and  
which face to adorn  

I am still exploring the direction  
to my lost address  



Iíve broken the barrier of time
and moved ahead of 
ancient wisdom
In my quest for progress 
I invented light, and crossed over
the valley of darkness 
The first child of yore
has found a new haven on earth,
a new avenue of dynamism,
of enlightenment, a new entity as human,
with the passage of time

Iíve finally entered
a glittering world, the tunnel of
wisdom, of reinventing self, discovering
the meaning of progress, meaning of
life and light
The more I advance into the tunnel
a blinding light darkens my soul
and gradually dwarfs my existence

As I get lost in glittering lights
A human mind shouts  
from somewhere inside: 
ĎHave you found light  
and the meaning of life; or
are you still walking  on the  
(new) glittering passage of timeí? 


Aneek Chatterjee, Kolkata, India


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