Ann Arbor Review


Paul B. Roth
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Lana Bella
Elisavietta Ritchie
Peycho Kanev
Helen Gyigya
Alan Britt
Shutta Crum
Ali Znaidi
Lyn Lifshin
Ann Christine Tabaka
Silvia Scheibli
Fahredin Shehu
Robert Nisbet
Laszlo Slomovitz
Rajnish Mishra
Keith Moul

Eddie Awusi
Andy N
Running Cub
Sanjeev Sethi

Alex Ferde
Deji W. Adesoye
W. M. Rivera
Shantanu Siuli
Duane Locke

Jennifer Burd
Violeta Allmuca

Fred Wolven
Michael Lee Johnson

Anik Chatterjee

Richard Gartee
John Grey

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 47 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



Let me measure my shadow. 
Has it overgrown me?
Has it become taller, lengthier, and obese ?
Everytime I climb up
I fight with my shadow.
It often doubles, beyond overgrowth;
it becomes taller than ivory towers.                                   
There may be science behind such whims
But my ethics prods the shadow to be humble,
to be small, and nearer the earth.  
Does my shadow resemble a frankenstein? 
I really donít know
But when it creeps up the wall, and multiplies,
I shudder to think that the ivory tower is
slowly decaying, unnoticed.

Let me hate my shadow. 



My thoughts thrown into
a tabula rasa that fateful afternoon
one after another, -
anger, hatred, desire, love,
magnanimity, self, -
bounced back

You bid adieu finally
My love didnít arrive
My love left in disgust.  



The white cover brings out a shadow Ö

Do I have a body ?
Do I search a mind in the corpse?
and lust for life in those still eyes ? 

Sometimes I feel formless
Floating disjointed in this world
Unable to protest, unable to raise voice

I wanted to light hope
Candles of hope, but all went out
Now I carry with you lifeless white sticks 

I wanted to take you, me and
others up; up in dignity,
up in life and humanity 

But I am continuously descending down the stairs
With extinguished life and soul
Descending down,  formless.   

In you I see a shadow of myself Ö    


Aneek Chatterjee, Kolkata, India


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