BLOG OF THE WEEK ~ RAJANI'S BOOK IS OUT!

This week we are pleased to feature our friend Rajani Radhakrishnan, who blogs at Thotpurge: Incomplete Thoughts… and Phantom Road . Rajani lives in Bangalore, India, and is a long-time member of Poets United. Her eagerly-awaited book, Water to Water, has just been published by Notion Press, and we are very excited about it. Let’s not wait another minute, to find out all about it.

Available in India here , the USA here, and the UK here

Rajani: If you prefer e-books to paperbacks, then I am happy to announce that that the Kindle Edition of Water to Water is now available on Amazon India/US/UK.

Sherry:  Rajani, congratulations on the publication of your beautiful book. Tell us all about it. How did it feel when you held the first copy in your hand?

Rajani: Thanks so much for featuring my book, Sherry – though it still feels surreal to call it that. The traditional publishing route would have been ideal but, thankfully, we now have several options for self-publishing! I went through a company that offers a middle path- what they call ‘guided publishing’. They managed the process once the manuscript was ready.

I think when I saw the first copies, there were mixed feelings… relief that it was done, complete disbelief that it was and almost immediately a sense of sadness thinking of those who were not there – for so many reasons - to share the moment with me.  

Sherry: I imagine so. What was the process like, preparing it for publication? How long did it take? Who was your main supporter as you worked to put it together?

Rajani: Those were a tough few months – there were times I wanted to start over- throw all the poems away. I was doing the manuscript alone and I’m glad now that I kept going. I had friends who pitched in later – helping with a bit of editing, with the cover art, with basic motivation, but yeah, it seemed like just one crazy person on a beat-up laptop, headed nowhere!

  

Sherry:  The description of every writer! Smiles. Amazon describes the book as “a collection of poems about love and life, darkness and death, light and separation, brimming with everyday emotions that drizzle, quench, flood or turn into rainbows.” It sounds like a rich reading experience for the reader. Tell us about the title.

Rajani: The title came from a tiny poem I wrote long ago which is also the first poem in the book - and speaks of the cycle of life. The poems largely follow the theme of water. Water as a prism to examine everyday emotions. The Indian monsoon is a very emotive muse as is the ocean. I grew up in Chennai, on India’s East coast, so am naturally drawn to the sea. I realized as I was putting the poems together that I had a lot of work, published and new, that used water as a metaphor or backdrop - the book became clear to me after that. 

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Sherry: It is a wonderful and inspiring theme. Water is life! When did you begin writing poetry, Rajani? What led you to choose poetry as your means of creative expression?  

Rajani: I think in high school- of course they were terrible poems- but the inclination to write was, perhaps, always there. I didn’t study poetry after school, much of what I learnt came later, online. More recently, I think, I have been struggling to express a life and culture that is experienced pretty much in a different context and language. But reading poets like A.K. Ramanujan and Agha Shahid Ali who do it so elegantly, has been inspiring. For me, being able to do that without sounding clunky or reframing the truth would be a step forward.

Sherry: You write very elegantly yourself, Rajani.  What do you love about poetry?

Rajani: I think the brevity. There is no room to hide. You have to lay it all out there in a few words and constantly find new ways to say it. You aren’t feeling or seeing anything new- what is new is your ability to simplify what you experience and organize the clutter from a different vantage point. 

Sherry:  Well said. Would you like to share two of your favourite poems from the book?

Rajani: The book includes poems published earlier in various journals or on my blog, and also a bunch of new poems.  The second poem I’m sharing here titled ‘Corollary’ first appeared in The Ekphrastic Review.

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Something closes. Someone survives.

A little blue boat, a landlocked sea, a fisherman, a few fish

for the market, one for home, a wood fire waiting. There is

a certain simplicity to being predator and scavenger, the

silhouette of a bare bough on a star-dimpled night. The only

thing more minimalist is death, prey transformed into white

bones against the earth, stripped of pretence. What are we

in the end? It should be clinical, tallying emotional accounts.

Something closes. Someone survives. A vulture with bloodied

wings stains the sky. But we embellish love. Adorn it. Learn

endearments in seven languages. Today, your voice is guttural,

ocean tangling in coarse yellow sand. We assemble dreams

from asymmetric blocks. Circling. Waiting. The quarry is

worshipped before the hunt. The night is sharpened into arrow

heads. The morning is born, again, with a red gash over its eye.

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Corollary

There are mornings, more mornings

now, when I try to separate love from

myself. I describe my face to the silence

as a stranger would, to another, after

a brief encounter. I describe my love

to the mirror as a bird would explain

light to another, in the dark. I describe

our time together as a fish would

talk of wetness to another, not knowing.

Your fingers comb through the lines,

trying to distinguish thought from craft.

But a poem is only a corollary. A

result that has subsumed its

reason. The glass in our window is

neither inside nor out. The sky becomes

a sky only when we look up. You

describe happiness to me as a road would

to another, as a beginning or ending.

source

Sherry: Your imagery is always outstanding, Rajani. I so admire how you use images in your work. There is such beauty in the "star-dimpled night", and the bird and fish talking. I adore “the sky becomes a sky only when we look up.” That is a spectacular line!   

Now that your book is completed, and out in the world, do you have plans to relax for a bit, or do you have any other projects in mind?

Rajani: I’d like to think there will be another book at some point. But for now, I just want to get back to writing more poems and possibly, more relevant poems. 

Sherry: That sounds perfect, after such an intense project. What do you like to do when you aren’t writing, Rajani?

Rajani: I read. Non-fiction mostly, and poetry. And I like to travel. There’s nothing quite like seeing different places and experiencing different cultures far away from home. 

Sherry: And both books and travel take us to new places. Is there anything you’d like to say to Poets United?

Rajani: PU was the first poetry group I discovered after I set up my blog on wordpress. I can’t thank the poets here enough for years of encouragement and support. I wish life would take me to wherever you all are, someday, so I can meet you all for real. Meanwhile, am grateful to have the opportunity to read your poetry and learn from you all. If you do read the book, I will be happy to get your feedback, as always.

Sherry: I can’t wait to immerse myself in it! Congratulations, once again. Thank you for letting us share your excitement at its publication. And thank you for your loyal participation, all these years, at Poets United. We are so happy to have you among us.

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

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Writing Poetry

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.”

― Robert Frost

Art by tenth grader Julia Wang from San Jose, California, who has won the inaugural National Poetry Month Poster Contest. Wang’s artwork was selected by contest judges Naomi Shihab Nye and Debbie Millman . . . . It incorporates lines from the poem "An Old Story" by current U. S. Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith.  
 Read more about Wang’s winning artwork.

“Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.”

― Aristotle

"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility."   --William Wordsworth

Allegory of Poetry by Francisco Goya

Midweek Motif ~ Writing Poetry

Writing Poetry is what we do. Why?

According to Jane Hirshfeld: 

"One reason to write a poem is to flush from the deep thickets of the self some thought, feeling, comprehension, question, music, you didn’t know was in you, or in the world. Other forms of writing—scientific papers, political analysis, most journalism—attempt to capture and comprehend something known. Poetry is a release of something previously unknown into the visible. You write to invite that, to make of yourself a gathering of the unexpected and, with luck, of the unexpectable."   (Read the rest HERE.)

Is she right?  What is a poem? 

Your Challenge:  In a New poem, tell us Why Write Poetry? and/or What Is Poetry?  Consider limiting yourself to addressing one poem rather than generalizing.

🟍

Last Monday, Sherry gave us Poems of the Week ~ Three Poets on Poetry in which Sanaa, Rajani and Sumana answered that question.  Below I provide a few excerpts of the feature:

In POEM HOLDING ITS HEART IN ONE FIST*, Sanaa notes: 
". . . sometimes it’s better to counsel with our hearts alone. 

I have found that pink buds are perfect within  

and destined to open. . . . "

In THE POET HAS GONE, Sumana notes: 

". . . Things of beauty,  
Scattered everywhere 
Like a Mary Oliver page- 
Yet there’s an uncanny calm . . . ."

And in JUST MATH, Rajani notes:

"Even Rumi, who could fit the entire
universe inside his poem, was yearning
for the grace of the Beloved. The universe
is not enough. . . ."

Poetry Is the Gnomic Utterance from Which the Soul Springs, Fluttering

BY JOYCE CAROL OATES

At the podium

measured and grave as a metronome

the (white, male) poet with bald-

gleaming head broods in gnom-

ic syllables on the death

of 12-year-old (black, male) Tamir Rice

shot in a park

by a Cleveland police officer

claiming to believe

the boy’s plastic pistol

was a “real gun”

like his own eager

to discharge and slay

  

while twelve feet away

at the edge

of the bright-lit stage

the (white, female) interpreter

signing for the deaf is stricken

with emotion —

horror, pity, disbelief —

outrage, sorrow —

young-woman face contorted

and eyes spilling tears

like Tamir Rice’s mother

perhaps, or the sister

made to witness

the child’s bleeding out

in the Cleveland park.

We stare

as the interpreter’s fingers

pluck the poet’s words out of the air

like bullets, break open stanzas

tight as conches with the deft

ferocity of a cormo-

rant and render gnome-speech

raw as hurt, as harm,

as human terror

wet-eyed and mouth-grimaced

in horror’s perfect O.

The Parnassus: The whole room shows the four areas of human knowledge:
philosophy, religion, poetry and law, with The Parnassus representing poetry. 
by Rafael (1511)

Poetry

BY LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY

Morn on her rosy couch awoke, 

   Enchantment led the hour, 

And mirth and music drank the dews 

   That freshen’d Beauty’s flower, 

Then from her bower of deep delight, 

   I heard a young girl sing, 

‘Oh, speak no ill of poetry, 

   For ’tis a holy thing.’ 

The Sun in noon-day heat rose high, 

   And on the heaving breast, 

I saw a weary pilgrim toil 

   Unpitied and unblest, 

Yet still in trembling measures flow’d 

   Forth from a broken string, 

‘Oh, speak no ill of poetry, 

   For ’tis a holy thing.’ 

’Twas night, and Death the curtains drew, 

   ’Mid agony severe, 

While there a willing spirit went 

   Home to a glorious sphere, 

Yet still it sigh’d, even when was spread

   The waiting Angel’s wing, 

‘Oh, speak no ill of poetry, 

   For ’tis a holy thing.’

Skyscrapers

by Matt Haig

I

Like

The Way

That when you

Tilt

Poems

On their side

They

Look like

Miniature

Cities

From

A long way

Away. 

Skyscrapers

Made out

Of

Words.

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

                (Next week Sumana’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Temptation)

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!