You are sweet...off to be a mam for a bit, hopefully back laters...any more of that Indian poetry I like Hes...the woman's name eludes me again (must be my age!) ...laters :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
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You are sweet...off to be a mam for a bit, hopefully back laters...any more of that Indian poetry I like Hes...the woman's name eludes me again (must be my age!) ...laters :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Aah Hes. You're not alone. You've got all of us loonies picking and writing some great poetry. :) I've got rocks from 4 continents in my garden.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I'll post some Kamala Das for you Freckle, may take a wee while due to having to type it out but you can see it when you are having a break from being mam. See you later.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Kamala Das
Love
Until I found you,
I wrote verse, drew pictures,
And, went out with friends
For walks…
Now that I love you,
Curled like an old mongrel
My life lies, content,
In you….
(From Summer in Calcutta)
sigh..................................
right...off to read alice in wonderland
That is my favourite Freckle. Sorry for not posting before you but the phone hasn't stopped ringing! Right...off to choose one.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Autumn Leaves
This is a secret:
Once through his shirt
I saw his chest
and all that hair
and, on that very night in my dream
the autumn-winds blew down
from the trees
all their leaves
and I lay on them,
I lay on those smoke-scented leaves.
Kamal Das
I love the Kamal Das poems. The language is simple and not showy but there's so much passion there :cool:
This is the poem that made me go back and buy the book...it has such an intensity and sadness. It haunted me so much that I got lost trying to find the bookshop in order to buy it.
Glass
I went to him for half an hour as pure woman,
pure misery, fragile glass, breaking, crumbling. The house
was silent in the heat, only its rafters creaking.
He drew me to him rudely with a lover's haste,
an armful of splinters, designed to hurt and pregnant
with pain. Why did I not cry then, broken glass, beware,
why did I not tell him that I no longer care whom
I hurt with love and without? With a cheap toy's
indifference I enter other's lives and make of
every trap of lust a temporary home. On me
their strumming fingers may revive the fond melodies
of a past. I give a wrapping to their dreams, I give
a woman-voice, a woman-smell and I do not
ever bother to tell, I have misplaced a father
somewhere and I look for him now everywhere.
Kamala Das
Good evening DT! I'm really glad that you like her. I think her poems are wonderful and I agree totally with the above comments about them.Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Wow, that poem's fantastic. Thanks Hes :)