When Canadian author and entrepreneur Sara Louisa wrote a short story about three years ago, she asked her family to have a look at it right away. ‘I was at the time told I should keep it up, so that is what I did, moving into a full novel,’ says Ms Louisa, speaking to the Literary Express in an exclusive interaction.
The Sun shines silently, scattering light
as we sit ourselves down by the sea
that shows the sky sempiternal.
The sea seems to say something,
something that shall surprise.
State I solemnly,
‘Sea, speak thy mind’
Greek might be author Lito Seizani’s mother tongue, but her English is no less than a native speaker’s. The famed short story writer and poet, who has translated several works of Thomas Hardy and Giovanni Verga into Greek, tells the Literary Express in an exclusive interaction that she wrote her very first poem at the age of sixteen.
‘Thou fell for a lad as young as thy son,
knowing quite well he may not love thee back.
‘Oh! In love fine all!’ thy sung in the sun
whilst I kissed thy lips, my seat a black rack.’
Buzz bees about as bombs blast, boom!
The letter ‘B’ brazen bickers and boos.
Be that as it may, beings work not be.
Breaching banks, blare bays, that d’you see?
Indie poet Daljeet Kaur believes in being direct, crisp, and to the point. And this quality of hers only shined when she gave the Literary Express an exclusive interview after the launch of an anthology of inspirational poetry titled ‘Catharsis’, which, on the side note, comprises three of Ms Kaur’s prolific works. Although we did find her answers pretty straightforward, the thirty-one-year-old came across as a light-hearted soul. Very much at the threshold of becoming a well-accomplished author, Ms Kaur told us with a smile that she felt jubilant to have finally become a part of the literary world, a dream she had cherished since her college days.
You know quite well there are minds that suffer;
Those minds, it is trowed, are anxious and sad.
But why d’you judge, mock those minds at supper?
Ween I what you do is shameless and bad.
Let me tell you what transpired once, dear lad:
A few years ago, I’d willed to take my life;
for days seemed like years, those years made me mad.
Struggle hard the mantra then and tackle each strife.
Inez awaited the bus, but after five minutes, her patience ran out. Thereupon, she hailed a taxi. Upon arriving at the school, she paid more than what the chauffeur had demanded, and sprinted through the chief corridor right into reception, her heavy breathings heard by every student that passed by.
The air of his office smelled like old dessert foods. Saccharine and familiar, but different. Standing and staring out of his window was Brenton’s elusive Principal, Miles Pine. He was a picture of a boring individual. He dressed in a plain t-shirt, a pair of boring brown trousers, and a pair of worn leather shoes. If you were to pass by him on the street, you wouldn’t recognize him if you were to see him again. To Inez Darío, he was good old Mister Pine, her mentor.
The dad elated beamed with pride,
went ahead to make a point.
‘Your worth’s fixed at the right place,
and that’s my sole viewpoint.’