Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih
Biography of Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih
KYNPHAM SING NONGKYNRIH writes poems, short fiction and drama in Khasi and English. He has a total of 13 publications in Khasi and 9 in English. His collections of poetry in English include Moments (Writers Workshop) , The Sieve (Writers Workshop) , The Yearning of Seeds (HarperCollins) and Time’s Barter: Haiku and Senryu (HarperCollins) . He is the author of Around the Hearth: Khasi Legends (Penguin) and the co-editor of Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India (Penguin) .
His poetry has been widely published in national and international journals, including The New Welsh Review (Cardiff) : Planet: The Welsh Internationalist (Aberystwyth, Wales) : Karavan (Stockholm) : PEN International (London) : The Literary Review (New Jersey) : Wasafiri (London) : Modern Haiku (Lincoln, USA) : Simply Haiku (Pasadena, USA) : Poetry International Web (Rotterdam) : and The Heron's Nest (Nassau, USA) .
His awards include the first Veer Shankar Shah-Raghunath Shah National Award for literature (Madhya Pradesh,2008) , the first North-East Poetry Award (Tripura,2004) and a Fellowship for Outstanding Artists 2000 by the Department of Culture and Tourism, Government of India.
He teaches literature at North-Eastern Hill University, Shillong, where he lives.
Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih Poems
Good Versus Evil
Friends, kindred spirits, civilized people all… I'm not here to defend evil or the Taliban. “Behind the Veil” has exposed them as a weird breed raising sabres against beards and TVs,
Like Shelley with his “blithe spirit” I have often tried to understand this man who is named Kynpham.
Light-In-The-Night (For Amanda)
Do not ask me the why and the wherefore, poetry is anoetic, you might as well question the rooster, or the plums, why they put on spring blossoms. But how and when poetry first came to me?
Gestating, she warned me not to kill anything. That was what her ancestors, the old Khasis, had taught her.
A Farewell Letter Of Cherries (For Profe...
Dear friend, this is a letter of cherries, this is a poem born of cherries and my affection, when the town is pink
“Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain”. — Kahlil Gibran Alone on a birthday
Girl of the highway! I remember you yanking my nose calling it “a cute duck nose”. I remember you carrying off my watch
I could stay forever in this warm town of grey dust and chaotic rickshaws, learning lessons as from a book of fables.
Having crossed the Akhaura Check Post, Murasingh, arms outstretched, proclaimed, Bangladesh!
When The Prime Minister Visits Shillong ...
When the Prime Minister planned a visit to the city bamboo poles sprang up from pavements like a welcoming committee.
Where I live it is cold and dark inside. So cold you never know
Lines Written To Mothers Who Disagree Wi...
For managing to love an object of scorn, they place around my neck a garland of threats.
Sundori Beloved Sundori,
Gestating, she warned me
not to kill anything.
That was what her ancestors,
the old Khasis, had taught her.
Geckos scoured the walls,
rats the kitchen.
Spiders pestered our sleep,
mosquitoes our limbs.
I do not know
how believers do it.
For nine long months
it was maddening
not to be a killer.