Tag: words
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Aachen, Radhadesh, Dusseldorf for the 44th
For my 44th my only wish was to pray. To thank God for the blessings. To let go and trust the cosmos. It was a sweet little road trip. It’s almost May, and I still carry with me: the smell of incense, the sound of bells, and a sense of calm.
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An Ode to the Stylish Cafes of Copenhagen
The aroma of coffee fills the air,As I sit in this cozy little square.The clinking of cups and chatter of friends,A peaceful escape that never ends. The sun shines through the window panes,As I sip on my latte and forget my pains.The barista smiles and greets me by name,A warm feeling that’s hard to explain.…
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A Pictorial Ode to Books
I had written about the Friday book market at the Spui earlier. This time around I managed to get better pictures. This is for my bibliophile readers. You would understand the poetry in these pictures.
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This is the house that Jack built
Twitter informed me that today is World Poetry Day. Arundhati Roy says, “There’s really no such thing as the ‘voiceless’. There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard.” Thus, I am going to leave this here in case it matters. The House BY WARSAN SHIRE i Mother says there are locked rooms inside…
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Dilruba Pe Dil Aaya
I discovered Dilruba Ahmed’s poetry in the early part of this year and it has stayed with me. The first poem I read was: “Snake Oil, Snake Bite” and it lingered over my days, making me smile at odd-moments as I remembered its tender irony. Imagine my joy when I discovered she had written a ghazal.…
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This parenting thing
So I asked Bambi can you speak about the things you say to me, and he said: B: “I want to play with the iPad.” A: What about the time you said, “Your food tastes like dirty sock” B: “Well, we are going to talk about the nice things.” B: “I want to go…
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Words and solar glares
Every word a stumbling block setup for the fall in to the endless plummet towards the bottom a bottom I never reach tumbling and tumbling pools of prepositions hills built of adjectives conjunctions swirling overhead misty mornings a sun that turns pink and purple Odorless Lavender Every word a brick movement like mortar constructions built…
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“Inheritance” – Warsan Shire
Where did you get those big eyes? My mother. And where did you get those lips? My mother. And the loneliness? My mother. And that broken heart? My mother. And the absence, where did you get that? My father. “Inheritance” Warsan Shire (via prideinthepanther)
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Nitasha Kaul – What Does it Mean to be an Internationalist Today?
Having known Nitasha and read her articulate, precise and insightful work, it gives me immense pride and pleasure to share with you this video of her speaking at a conference in London about what it means to be an internationalist today. “Beyond the nation state and concentric circles of self” – if there is one…
Diligent Candy 