Poems of the Week ~ Three Poets on Poetry

Today we are sharing poems about poetry, written by Sanaa, Rajani and Sumana. Pour yourself a cup of tea, draw your chairs up close, and let's contemplate why we find playing with words so fascinating. I can't imagine what people do with their time, if they don't write!

POEM HOLDING ITS HEART IN ONE FIST*

And sometimes it’s better to counsel with our hearts
alone. 

I have found that pink buds are perfect within
and destined to open.
Perhaps it’s the inclusion of personal pronouns 
in daily life– 
of singular I, me
and plural we, us.
A few more days of warmth and it would bloom
one need only be patient.

Even cherries as luscious as lips bear secrets,
no matter how swift we wish to extract 
its nectar 
ease out carefully using a chopstick 
and the pit should fall through into the bottle.

As soon bathe in eucalyptus mineral bath salt
let go of the past 
it’s searing worries and pain augmented 
there are few things in this world that are better left
unsaid.

Yet, twilight disappeared over the horizon
the last vestiges of gutsy purple
robbing me of what little courage I had left 
I stand with my soul stripped for the perusal of night.

This poem after several years of growing up
and wisdom
shall laugh and ponder upon with unrestrained tears
cherishing every moment.

*A tribute response to Jane Hirsfield’s poem, 
“Poem Holding Its Heart In One Fist.”

 Sherry: This is a beautiful poem, Sanaa.

Sanaa: Sigh.. I remember this poem as if it was written yesterday. It was in response to Kerry's Challenge: Instructions for Living a Life ~ A Tribute to Poets of Our Time at Imaginary Garden with real toads. 

"Poem Holding Its Heart In One Fist," was inspired by JaneHirsfield's poem of the same name and is a glimpse of my subconscious. It's everything I believe about writing poetry and maturing as a person with time. 

These are lonely times we are living in, Sherry. An era where sorrow cannot name its friend. I personally feel that social media is somewhat responsible in disintegrating several aspects of life. People nowadays (especially the youth)  have no sense of regard for personal interaction other than spending a ludicrous amount of time chatting on the internet. Moreover, it's a rare thing if a person enjoys a simple meal at the dining table without being immersed in a smartphone.

Keeping that in mind I associate blooming of pink buds and personal growth with warmth and attention. One need only possess a kind heart and the rest is assured. 

As the poem progresses the words and their accompanying emotions become more personal, as I seek to explore my innermost feelings regarding growing up and life. There are moments of reflection and vulnerability, hence the reference to "soul stripped for the perusal of night."

Why do we write poetry? There are many answers to this question. But I, as a person who is young and has yet a lot to experience, believe that poetry is equivalent to therapy and healing. We write because we can no longer hold the words inside. I know for a fact that I will cherish and laugh heartily at my work ten years later. I will whisper in my heart; "every poem that you wrote blazed your path and instilled your faith in life which in turn just keeps getting better and better."

Sherry: So true, "we write because we can no longer hold the words inside." And our poems chart our path, for sure. Thank you, Sanaa.

Let's see what Sumana has to say about poets and the art of poetry.

THE POET HAS GONE

It’s comfortably cold here-
Winter birds have all come-
The pond is full
With water, tree-shadows and fish-
The blue sky seems dreamy,
So are the night stars-
Things of beauty,
Scattered everywhere
Like a Mary Oliver page-
Yet there’s an uncanny calm-
Where’s the ecstasy gone
With the “luminous fruits”,
“emerald eddies”, “lean owls”
“egrets”, “daisies” and all……
When I close my eyes
I see ‘red’
What’s burning, methinks-
A fire in a forest in a faraway land
Or a heart?
An ear of mine catches a note-
Is it a dirge in the woods?
May be-
A poet is gone-


*Words in inverted commas are from Mary Oliver’s Poems


Sherry: Sigh. Nature's beauty, spilling down the page. I love this, Sumana.

Sumana: Mary Oliver was one poet who asked us to be astonished, to stay amazed about life. She writes, in her poem “When Death Comes,” “I want to say all my life / I was a bride married to amazement”.  A nature lover, she has opened our eyes to the immensity of our surroundings. She helps us see the hidden pattern of the world in her simple language. Her critics sneered at her ‘simplistic’, ‘plain’ language and 'easy accessibility' to her poems by one and all. But she stuck to her own beautiful style and enriched poetry. When such a person dies the world seems bereft of beauty. My immediate reaction was an immense sadness. This little poem of mine is a kind of homage to this poet seer. I tried to include as many of her own words from her poems I could to embellish my own poem.

Sherry: It is a beautiful homage, Sumana. Mary Oliver's words will stand, long after the voices of her critics have been silenced. Thank you for this gorgeous poem.

I knew when Rajani penned the following poem that I must share it. Let's read.

JUST MATH

Even Rumi, who could fit the entire
universe inside his poem, was yearning
for the grace of the Beloved. The universe
is not enough. It cannot love us the way
we want love. Its miracles are just math.
What would language do, or poems, if
the poet did not suffer the anguish of
loving a sunset? The sky just is. The poem
reaches out to touch your cheek. The
words wipe your tears. The poet burns
in the orange light until he becomes the
darkness. The Beloved holds back the
wine. Love is only an empty tavern, the
sun has been extinguished and the stars
in the window will be gone by morning.

Sherry: Such a beautiful poem, Rajani! A poet does feel "the anguish of loving a sunset" and, through her words, the reader feels that ache too. I love that the poem dries our tears. 

Rajani: Thanks so much for featuring my poem, Sherry.  I wrote about 40 poems in what I called the “Universe Series”  around December-January. This was one of them.  They are all centred around the relationship of the individual with the universe– existential, spiritual or arbitrary. Rumi is probably more metaphor here than actual reference, but I’m not sure how the poem actually came about. I wasn’t really planning each poem, just going with the flow. I’ve posted a few poems on my blog and on Instagram but have no idea what to do with the rest!

Sherry:  We are very happy to be reading your work, Rajani. Thank you for this very wonderful poem. I love thinking of the poet burning in an orange light. 

Thank you, poet friends, for your wonderful words. We appreciate them very much.

We hope you enjoyed this feature, my friends. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!