Common Ground

 

I do not know your music tastes,

I do not know your friends.

Both you and I are short of space,

in between continents.

And you and I are being ground down

by the acts of governments.

We don't share any talking points

but likely the same ends. 

I know you, brother, even though

your language is not mine,

your home location is on a

different meridian line.

And nowhere do our orbits touch,

nowhere our lives combine,

yet they're exactly parallel,

yet they somehow align.

I know that resolve in your eyes,

that tremor in your hands

as the ground beneath us buckles

throughout our separate lands.

I know that grimness on your lips

as you rise to take a stand -

I may not know your music tastes

but the rest I understand. 

This one is for those who carry on, who don't get discouraged, who fight for a braver, better, more equal, more just and a peaceful world.

I hope the coming week will be better than the past one for all of us. Have a good one. 

Smileworthy

Festivals that seep into rooms

somehow by osmosis;

faraway strains of childhood tunes;

streamers peeping through mists;

a rainbow in a small oil slick,

preserved daisies in books;

flamingos clustered close and thick

somewhere behind the souqs.

The gentle turns of planets, years,

seamless the season’s bends,

the random points marked on a sphere

for beginnings and ends.

Wishing all here a fun, creative and positive 2017.  I got an email greeting which said 'may your happiness break all previous records' and I'm shamelessly plagiarising that. Record breaking levels of joy - that's my wish for you this year. Stay blissful, stay well.

Guess what?

Some wring their hands and grind their teeth.

Some smile, and drink it in.

Some flaunt it like a badge and cape,

some bear it with a grin.

Some treat it like a wound and staunch

the blood with endless gauze,

and some think it's a game of chance,

and some, a book of laws.

Currently can't get this particular metre out of my head - obsessed! (It's called 'common' or 'ballad' metre by the way, 8686 syllables, easily memorised, easily written to. Most frequently used in hymns, and sailors' ditties, and nursery rhymes, and ballads, for obvious reasons.) It's been on my mind since I reread some of Emily's verses in September - 'Tell all the truth but tell it slant/success in circuit lies...' Masterful! Don't you just love her poetry?!

Happy Diwali 2016!

I.

My Goddess will not stoop to count

the flames in a courtyard,

Her footprints are more likely found

where lives are dark and hard.

She’ll care nothing for creed and caste,

for spotless floors and plates,

She’ll find the orphaned child, unwashed,

far from the temple gates.

She’ll spurn the white of rice designs,

the richness of symbols,

She’ll be with the refugees crying

in dismantled jungles.

II.

I’m ready now – I’ve rebelled often,

to light my lamps in clay,

to roll my wicks from old cotton,

put ceremony away.

I’m standing here to welcome in

the dark as well as light,

the protocols and discipline

accepting moonless nights.

Whatever walks in at my door

will find a home in mine -

the silver fruits of moonlight, or

the darkness of starshine.

Double helpings today because today is Diwali!  Or Deepavali to give it its full name, the autumn festival of lights in India, where we celebrate the victory of good over evil as symbolised by light and dark. As a poet though, I vaguely resent the equating of dark with evil and ignorance and ungodly, heck, I like darkness, it's restful, it's usually a good contrast, and it does a way better job hiding the wrinkles! Actually, too much light blinds as effectively as darkness.

I also feel absurdly pleased when festivals coincide with the weekly blogging schedule, is that crazy or what?! 

A very happy Diwali to you if you are celebrating, and happy autumn/ spring/transitions if you are not!