Tag: Poetry
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The Graph of a Cry
My dissertation is available as a book for academics, libraries, and those who are interested to read more about the phenomenal journey of the American ghazal. This dissertation analyzes the journey of the ancient Arabic poetic form of the ghazal to America to provide insights into transnational poetry and cultural mobility. While the movement of…
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What to make of this summer?
The Woman Who Turned Down a Date with a Cherry Farmer BY AIMEE NEZHUKUMATATHIL Fredonia, NY Of course I regret it. I mean there I was under umbrellas of fruitso red they had to be borne of Summer, and no other season. Flip-flops and fishhooks. Ice cubes made of lemonade and sprigs of mint to slip in blue glasses of…
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My Transcendental Truth
Having recently given a guest lecture in Dr. Laura Rupp’s class on Translanguaging and Transnationalism, my mind kept going back to this old poem I had written: To tell you the truth Upon walking into an airport My body somehow becomes a machine Mechanical with nuts and bolts A system I cyclically follow My head…
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When a poem is written like a telegram addressing a painting…
I am putting it on my agenda to feed the mind everyday with things of beauty, insightful words, and objects that inspire thought. It is an informal resolution for 2020, which so far has gone reasonably well. Recently, I read Sharon Olds’ Poem in the Form of a Telegram to Someone Looking at Henri Rousseau’s…
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Alicante is a State of Mind
A well-needed break came in the form of a short summer holiday to Alicante. We stayed at the Hotel Sercotel Suites del Mar; a delightful property with both sea and port views. I especially liked the attention the hotel has paid to little details that made our stay comfortable: extra sockets and USB points in…
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I Shall Emerge!
Kawahigashi Hekigoto (1873-1937), Japanese poet and haiku pioneer writes: 初雷や ふるふが如き 雛の壇 Hatsu-rai ya/ Furuu ga gotoki/ Hina no dan The first thunder Is likely to shake The tiered doll stand. I feel that way about spring. As the heads of the first crocuses crown on my street I want to let out a guttural shriek, a…
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Six Feet Under
The pile of letters still there where I left them the half empty bottle of coke a delight for the ants all over it the stale air, hanging humidity dust covering the books protectively reminders that I left in a rush for a burial Opening the window choking fresh air a hideous laugh at good…
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Dressing Amsterdam in a Ghazal
Do you think I can ever write in the vein of Delhi about Amsterdam? I did not choose Delhi, but once upon a time I selected living in Amsterdam In Delhi, we have serpentine avenues with magnificent trees I could find the cycle of seasons, getting and shedding leaves, in Amsterdam Sometimes I went looking…
Diligent Candy 