Showing posts with label cinquain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cinquain. Show all posts

Sunday, 5 November 2023

Glad

 

Screenshot from The Guardian, 05.11.2023.

I’m thankful you’re not in a war zone.

That our troubles, though quite sufficient

don’t include that brand of violent –

they’re lower key, more mundane in tone.

I’m so glad you’re not in a war zone.

 

Though to be honest, the ones who are

don’t seem to be altogether foreign -

their sorrow’s a long familiar cadence

and half my own, the distance not too far.

We think we are not them, but we are. 





Monday, 2 October 2023

Representation

 



Whole histories lie in torn curtains, crumbed rust

on exposed steel, in cracks on the stair treads,

in your own careless thumbprint on the dust,

a barely there spider web’s single thread

caught briefly in the beam striking the bed.


Ordinary lives summed up by the contents

of desks and drawers, by tattered bookmarks

showing where they’d stopped reading, sure they’d meant

to go on, only it had gone too dark -

pages spelling out their exits’ exact arc.

 

A weekly crossword has been left half done,

you can’t quite bring yourself to complete it

because that feels like a small desecration,

as if that’s tampering, it’s not your remit.

You waver, you neither write nor can you quit.

 

You want to clear the space out and rearrange -

the useless old teapots, the dulled silverware.

No! - you can’t bear the thought of the slightest change.

Let the lifeless represent the life lived there –

the half done crossword, the same cracks on the stair.



Not sure where that came from - except that some of our old window stays had to be replaced because they had got so rusted that the shutters couldn't be shut. It's 60 days into the homecoming? more than halfway to 100 and it's been a lively time - in a good way and also not in a good way. 


I've been to the wholesale hardware market and shopped for stays (because the style we have is so ancient that it is carried only by the bulk distributors, it's a 50 yo house). I've shopped for textiles, storage jars, frames, planters. I've got the last remaining items on the furniture wish list finally done,  I've got the passport done, I've got my first dog bite - so that last one takes care of 'experience something new' for 2023. Anti rabies shots - yum! :) 


We are still jumping through the various regulatory hoops and this time around my stores of patience, never very robust to begin with, have worn really thin. There are so many safeguards yet the mega fraudsters go scot free while ordinary folk like me are driven insane, one needs to sign forms in triplicate and a password to sneeze even. It would be comical if it weren't so uber tedious. 


It is of course Gandhi Jayanti (birth anniversary) today and the festival season in India begins on the 14th. So the good times are set to continue, as family from Mumbai and Lucknow will be visiting. And cousins are here to attend from the USA as well. There's the spookfest challenge at WEP too...like I said, happy-busy month, hopefully. 


Happy October to you too and happy festivals, whichever you may be celebrating. 




Friday, 5 June 2015

Baggage reclaim







Nothing comes back unbroken, unopened, whole -
the way it was on the carousel before.
You see it clearly the first time, crumpled, small
unimpressive, turned inward in withdrawal,
no markers signifying it as yours.


You always label or tie a ribbon -
lurid, impossible to overlook
but there’s not a muted colour even
not a thread on it, as it is given
to the belt where you wait on tenterhooks.


It could easily belong to someone else -
they look the same, bits of dark plastic and zips
lined up nose to tail, on darker carousels.
A tired trooper that quietly chronicles
each wound and triumph of your several trips.


Who predicts what falls apart in transit? -
which ribbons and what colours come undone.
For all you know you’ll stand right beside it
and recognition will come in lurching fits
as the carousel empties one by one.


Your cases don’t always come neatly tied -
there are no yellow ribbons around the tree;
not a single special knot's there to guide.
There’s just this crumpled bag, an endless ride
on a loop of blackness, till you pluck it free.





Because I find myself suddenly travelling...Wish you happy reunions with your loved ones that you are meeting this Friday/weekend.

Friday, 15 March 2013

Choice





Beyond
the tavern doors
rivers run wide; it needs
nothing to walk the mud banks there
unshod.


Inside
there's love and wine
the deep cups, loud laughter,
divine death-life; your lashes sharp
in sleep.



I have had ghazals and other eastern forms on my mind lately, so borrowing and building from there.




Shared with poets for Form for All @ dVerse where cinquains are being written tonight.