by Farzana Versey
Poets' Basement, Counterpunch March 25-27
It’s that time
When history is written in streams
In the space between breasts
In the space between thighs
In the space between eyes
The ebb and tide
Follow the flow
In the space between grandma’s wrinkles
In the space between mother’s arms
In the space between ovaries
A past makes place
For a future
I open book covers
And talk to myself
With Virginia Woolf
I touch myself
With Anais Nin
I fly together
With Erica Jong
I fight
With Ayn Rand
I clasp my hands
With Toni Morrison
I feel at home
With Fehmida Riaz
Tracy Chapman, Madonna,
Geeta Dutt, Reshma
Are the voices I hear
In my head
Frida Kahlo, Amrita Shergill
Paint my mind, my body
The woman who sells her body
The woman who has scars on her body
The woman who sells dreams
The woman who muffles screams
The woman who carries the weight
Of sand on her head
For homes we live in
The woman who sits
In conference halls
And decides the fate of money
I meet them all
In the soaking sponge of memory
Even my lipstick is not in limbo
It puckers my mouth
As I speak
And shout
Hear me out
As the matte turns to gloss
With saliva
Miraculously swallowing
A parched throat
It’s that time
When history is written in streams
Mine flowing in yours
The colour of our hair, eyes, skin
Different
The shade of thoughts, feelings, biases
Different
In the stream we see our rippling images
Leaving pebbles to dry
- - -
Dedicated to Women's History Month
13 comments:
This is simply wonderful F.It represents all the women I do know and don't.
My interest and appreciation of poetry is limited to "Green Eggs and Ham" by Dr. Seuss :), so take it for what it is worth but I like it.
When it comes to poetry, I get more emotional content from Hindi/Urdu ones as I have been Gulzar fan for years.
Wow! A lamp, a torch, a sconce, a candlestick. So bright that Mao and bin Laden (left and right) pale on the periphery. :)
I had to zoom out and take a screenshot 'cause I knew your formatting would've been lost with a simple copy/paste.
Just beneath the flame, I liked:
In the space between grandma’s wrinkles
In the space between mother’s arms
In the space between ovaries
A past makes place
For a future
Of course, you know what they say about grandmas. :)
Beautiful tribute to women and to you. The end was simple and stunning. The photo is too good goes well with the theme. Real artistic.
Mstaab:
Hello Mark, are you going all metaphorical on me? For once I write something simple and straightforward and you push the envelope with crackling notes from...
BTW, with all those light sources, me felt like Florence Nightingale.
No, I don't know what they say about grandmas? Operation Odyssey Dusk or somethin'? Please enlighten 'she', do...
Anon:
Thanks. We do owe ourselves a bit as much as we owe others. The end, like the beginning, was not planned. That's how it always seems to go well with me.
Jitu:
Thank you. But don't make this an excuse to get to know more women! (Just kidding. )
Hitesh:
I am going to take it as a compliment - if you notice some words do rhyme. And there is emotion here too. Heck, I write emotionally about Narendra Modi too. And I also do Hindi/Urdu ;)
PS: don't know why this comment was not getting posted.
>>No, I don't know what they say about grandmas? Operation Odyssey Dusk or somethin'? . . .<<
Indeed . . .
The phrase with respect to grandmas (actually, somewhat of a proverb -- hence attribution to a they) suggests one needn't instruct one's grandmother how to suck eggs, lol. Traditionally, such egg-sucking has been attributed to either fox or serpent and thus is quite suggestive as to the lineage of the person toward whom the phrase is directed. However, as with most proverbs (and certain thoughtful poetry, certainly), there are layers (or shadings, perhaps) of meaning depending, among other things, on context.
Wah, Farzana. :)
I liked your kidding note.Other day I tried what it feels writing underneath the bed.That was suffocating,how can you do that?
And there is emotion here too.
Oh I didn't mean that at all. I meant the expressiveness of language that gets lost in translation.
Of course, your poetries are original both in english and hindi/urdu. But, I am partial to hindi/urdu as Pink Floyd lyrics don't evoke same thing as:
kuchh din to baso meri aankho mein, fir khwaab agar ho jao to kya...
Jitu:
What if my bed is atop a tree and I write beneath its shade?! I said I could write under the bed. I should start putting cautionary notes with my posts saying try it only if you have enough oxygen or enough madness.
Hitesh:
Agreed that some emotions come out differently in different languages. And Hindi/ Urdu have a special flavour. But I dread to imagine how Eminen would translate in Hindi. It will go way beyond 'Kaminey'. And I like Eminem. Goes for the jugular and that too is emotional!
Oh, I think I have crossed the lost in translation barrier. Someone just said "wah" for an English poem. Now I can even hold a mushaira in English. "Ghaur farmaye" would be "Read my lips" :)
Mstaab:
Just when I was feeling heady
About being called a foxy lady
You brought in granma from the Garden of Eden
Who played better at being a heathen
Leaving me with toppled eggs to steady
So, context is also in the reading.
Shukriya, Mark ;)
On cellphone a caller gave me his address and before I could start writing it, the paper I was holding slipped under the bed.I knelt down beneath to pick it up but wrote it there and there fearing I may forget the street name. The first thing I remembered after straiten-up was you.
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