Frederick Noronha
Where, then, do poets go? This is the question asked by Sharmin Deshmukh, whom one encountered at a literature fest for young people organised by Muslim girl students some time ago. It was a good event and also prompted a look at Sharmin’s work, subtitled “a journey in verse”.
Published by Writer’s Pocket [writerspocket.com] in 2025, the 128-page book is neatly produced. It seeks to share “raw, real, fearless” works in verse. It accommodates 84 poems, divided into sections dedicated to her father (‘Raised by Yusuf’), and also focussed on family, and a range of themes from ruins of a neighbouring home to envy.
She goes to cite the Zeigarnik Effect (what’s that… no telling), God, and more. There’s even a charming one titled ‘A Plea to the Healer’, with its short standout lines (Heal me./ Speak./ Tell me you know/ the cure/ for this anxiety,/ even if/ it is/ only/ a/ lie.)
Her title poem comes last: (What do poets do,/ when they are happy?/ When the pain has gone,/ the wounds have healed,/ the ink has dried./ No words left./ Only rest./ Where then, do poets go?)
These words from the young founder of Mindwiz and The Fun School by Mindwiz, promoting play-based learning among children, reminded me of the poetry books gathered in my own collection. Waiting to be noticed and paid attention to.
It provoked so many questions. Why do poets get less attention in publishing? Do poetry books get reviewed? Do poetry books do well in any part of the globe? What are the best ways to enhance the visibility, sales and potential for getting poetry books published?
No easy answers here.
But it is true that poetry does have a smaller commercial market. Poetry sells fewer copies, lacking a broad audience. So, such works bring in lower financial returns than novels, memoirs or popular non-fiction.
Not necessarily in that order. For, in India, non-fiction often sells faster than literary fiction. Especially when it addresses a strong current interest (politics, self-help, business, history, biography, etc.). India is thought to be an exception to the international trend. In many major book markets, especially in the US and Western Europe, fiction has been the stronger growth engine.
But there is more work on my shelves. Retired school teacher Cosme C Lobo, whom I got to know as the author of a recent book on Parra, has his work of verse entitled Touch. As he puts it: “Touch is an expression of love.”
His short poems, often comprising just three or four stanzas each, are thoughtful and thought-provoking. Interestingly, the book is written in both English and Romi Konkani, and the poet demonstrates an equally assured command of both languages. No contacts for this self-published book, or year of publishing mentioned.
Vasco-based Monica Aurora’s Milestones in My Life came out in 2009 (Cinnamon Teal) and contains her work going back to the early 1970s. She credits this work getting published to “one persistent friend” Valerie. It might be of interest that she also acknowledges Cdr. Narayanan and Janani’s ‘Vasco Watch’ for publishing her verse over many years. Her works include a tribute to a teacher, tributes to a rainy day, and in praise of tiny tots. By now, it must be becoming increasingly clear how much of a challenge understanding and appreciating the work of diverse poets can be. But clearly, there’s a need for some visibility for such work too.
Areeba Shah’s work is another from the Writer’s Pocket imprint. Fragments of Becoming promises “a tender collection of poems and reflections drawn from solitude, faith, memory, and womanhood.”
Meanwhile, Manikrao Rama Nayak Gaunekar takes on the more daunting task of translating the late Sahitya Akademi award winner Nagesh Karmali’s Konkani poems into English, as Floating Rain (Broadway).
Its 62 poems, says Gaunekar, were brought to light despite him being aware of the difficulties of “rendering the nuances of one language [in]to another”. Gaunekar is a former headmaster. He has 15 children’s books to his credits, besides translating Kalidasa’s Rutusanhai, John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, and others.
Mahendra Caculo’s Late Blooms is a neatly crafted work of 27 poems. As the Chorao-based poet Salil Chaturvedi says in a foreword: “As a person who travels miles to see a flowering, I am touched that Mahendra has allowed me to witness this Late Bloom.” Caculo explains how a schoolmate threw him a “dare to write a poem when 54”.
Rukmini Bhaya Nair’s Yellow Hibuscus (Penguin Poetry) comprises ‘new and selected poems’. Going by the author’s name, you might believe that she has nothing to do with Goa. Far from the truth. There’s no hint in the subjects of her poems too. But Nair is the great grand niece of Msgr. Sebastião Rudolfo Dalgado, the great Goan linguist who studied the influence of Portuguese on many Asian languages, among other important language works. This is via her mother, who was a Soares (from Aldona).
Besides the above, there are also better known poets, who come out with the occasional (or even, regular) collection of their works. The lack of visibility for newer names especially is a challenge.
Publishers are often unwilling to take risks with poetry, especially from lesser-known poets. This does not reflect on the literary value of poetry; but it is a comment on the economics of the publishing industry and the difficulty to turn poetry into a commercially scale-able product.
Poetry books get reviewed, but rarely in the ‘mainstream’. Some poetry reviews come up in literary journals or poetry magazines. Blogs can open up some space. Fewer reviews mean less visibility; fewer readers and lower sales.
Strangely enough, poetry isn’t a depressed market in all parts of the globe. The UK and Ireland have stronger poetry cultures. So does the US, where poets have access to independent presses, university presses and what they call spoken-word communities.
Poetry needs much more. Not just being able to break into print, but also a strong literary culture, poetry education, public performance, festivals and maybe even a specialist publishing infrastructure. In India, there are options like the decades-old Writers’ Workshop (Kolkata), Copper Coin, Red River (Delhi), Poetrywala, RaedLeaf, and others. But this is obviously not enough for the most populous nation globally.
Sometime back, at a Publishing-Next conference held in Goa, a poet from France came along and surprised most by saying that the market for their work there was quite good. Some Portuguese-speaking areas also give poetry importance.
Poets could try to build their own audience. This means: publish selected poems in reputable literary journals and online platforms, maintain a strong but focused social-media presence, participate in readings, festivals, literary events and poetry communities. Also create quality audio or video readings that make the work discoverable. YouTube has some good examples.
A poet should also develop relationships with reviewers, editors, booksellers and other writers; submit strategically to publishers, literary agents and poetry prizes. Direct engagement (readings, launches, schools, universities, cultural organisations and diaspora communities) might help sales.
This takes us down memory lane. Recently, the musician Remo Fernandes announced his retirement from public performances. For many who grew up in the 1970s, he has been a part of their growing up life.
Beyond music where he has made headlines, Remo Fernandes is not sufficiently remembered for his first book Loads: A Book of Poems. It was published in 1980, and showcases the poet behind the later pop icon.
The slender book, cyclostyled (then the easiest form of printing) had poems on emigration, Goa, critiquing our society, and a lot more including the architect-musician’s own illustrations. It was dedicated to Goans who “have died frustrated in any way”. That’s only a reminder of how much-remembered a well-written book of verse can still be. We need more…
