Outside,
the rain whispers—
playing counterpart to the sounds
inside.
Soft tapping of keys
gives birth to ideas, …
Poetry
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A quiet undercurrent
serves as accompaniment
in searching for placement—
for orphaned words, …
Sunday Morning
Outside,
the church bells
ring;
their chimes cut
through
a gray Whitechapel morning …
Poem by Mohsen Hosseinkhani (Translated from Persian)
1.
which beautiful memory
remains inside us as much as
when our loved ones leave!
which stream will take away
the final tears of our mothers
from our memories? …
Poems lay scattered in the city landscape
Poems lay scattered in the city landscape—
lifeless bodies strewn after a blast.
I went picking them one by one—
faceless, headless, decaying trunks.
The ambulance sirens howled on the roads …
A Guest
I had come to the kitchen to fix a bracket fan
When I noticed a grey, ponderous chap,
sitting smug and unseen near the tea-whitener can.
He was nibbling a slice of cinnamon bread …
An Instant Portrait Artist in a Chaikhana
Dear, with your sketchbook and a pencil box,
neatly placed beside your trendy cigarette case;
and the book that you read with so much grace,
you look as if …
Liberty Nights, Lahore
There is an awami mela at Liberty Market.
Every evening I walk there
along tree-lined streets
the full moon to the left, …
Wagah
here’s an image of indigenised hippieness:
perhaps I should wear flowers in the lapel of
my achkan/ kurta (what would you prefer?)
drag my charpai out to Wagah where the gate to India is …