A smile is such a magical thing Like a rainbow that has sprouted wings Its pots of gold shimmering In a dimpled firmament Lifting the day In its 180 degree euphoria It is that precious loop That adorns the mouth In latitudes of joyfulness Its bearings somewhere between The heart and hypothalamus A smile is a small piece Of heart that is pulled out Of its latticed, multi-ribbed house A little boon of bliss A bit of love set free Into the ether of the world That beautiful upturned arch Of rapture and release Stirring the organs and the feet Defying the pull of gravity I see your smile Framing your face I don’t know you but my heart lifts Drawing its own curve on my lips A gift bestowed for one received A smile is that magical thing.
There have been extra days of rain Delaying the heat of the approaching summer In spontaneous, joyful Shimmering showers It has streamed down or drizzled for hours There has been a surge of butterflies Yellow, brown, blue and white Flitting all over the place Happy for a few more days Of life and vitality I see them floating among the flowers Cavorting in spring-lavished bowers Treading warm currents of air Over pavements where the cracks Are speckled with dancing weeds Over an emerald oasis of grass Loop-de-looping when they pass Another bloom That’s sprung up between the blades Glorious, serendipitous Delirious on springtime bliss They somersault back To bestow a nectary kiss On soft, dewy petal lips Beating gossamer wings Evanescent, paper-thin Revelling in bountiful life The inevasible heat A distant ordeal For now in their bejewelled flights The spring-born butterflies In pure rapture will remain Celebrating the extra days of rain.
It is with great excitement and pleasure that I introduce my second book for the grownups – my book of poetry and essays titled SHIMMERING SCRAPS OF POETRY AND MADNESS. The book will be available across bookstores in Pakistan and Sri Lanka at the end of December 2022. Friends in SL can currently order it from the Jam Fruit Tree bookstore on Galle Road via call/WhatsApp to 072-7268078.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
This is a collection of poems and essays, humble opinions, rumblings of the heart about the joys, the truths, the pain, the controversies, the funniness and the wonder that criss cross all our lives in one way or another. I have compiled them here because too many times, we are witnesses to profound beauty, love, dreams, desolation, prejudice and injustice and yet, we forget.
The contents of these pages range from the sublime to the ridiculous; from soaring on the wings of ecstacy to struggling with overwhelming despair; from the capricious joys of matrimony to the dubious delights of singledom; from the profound ecstasy in a mug of steaming latte to the ardent disappointment in a less than perfectly brewed cup of tea; from the comedic to the somber and from the customary to the controversial, this collection of poems and features encompasses them all.
Scraps of Poetry and Madness is a phrase borrowed from that literary Wonder Woman, Virginia Woolfe. For in this collection too, there is a stream of raw and strident, passive and ruminative, joyous and grief-bound, mad and glad thoughts that run like a melody through the entirety of its spine; and like a sore-throated bulbul (who also has some good-voice days) I have sung them all for my readers.
The morning glow touched its face The brick-faced house in the street It stretched out in the morning rays Hide’n’seek with some it played Its favourite morning treat
In the bedroom facing the east I lay in sleep’s placid arms The sun wore its morning beam As it shone into my dawn time dreams Oblivious of my late alarm
The house shook out its paint and bricks Its nooks and crannies too The mynah was already collecting twigs To fix its nest, repair the rips From last night’s stormy brew
The day wore on, the house filled up With daytime smells and sounds It shook and shimmered, belched and laughed As it held us all in its matronly arms Safe in its blessed compound
Evening came and with it the skies Turned a beautiful rosy pink T-41 too flushed with delight Its terracotta facade catching the light As it watched the twilight sink
The resident crickets began to perform Their night time symphony The house sighed softly gathering its form It seemed like tonight would bring another storm But inside its walls was warmth and sleep.
It was two for tea and tea for two Both meeting after a decade or two Friends of old, kins of the heart Separated by time and circumstance Chatter and laugh over tea for two
Tea for two and two for tea Neighbours for a year, kindred souls for twenty-three They’d seen each other through thick and thin Loving Kintsugi* mending walls where they’d grown thin Catch up over two for tea
It was two for tea and tea for two From working together their friendship grew They had rejoiced in one another’s highs And had held each other’s hands in trying times Rendezvous over tea for two
Tea for two and two for tea The sister and the brother sit quietly The coolness of bruised hearts lies around The air is rent with empty sounds As they try to build bridges over two for tea
It is usually two for tea and tea for two That brings hearts together, both the sunny and the blue Loving ones forge more joyful memories Aching ones for a while find some peace When they come together over tea for two.
* Kintsugi: The Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.
Where are you going my little one With your hands full of summer flowers? Why do you have that smile on your lips? Why do your eyes shine like stars?
I’m coaxing with play the Summer away She’s never ever happy to leave She’ll pout and she’ll wallow, go all shades of yellow She’ll moult in the throes of grief
But when I pick up her bloom-strewn dresses And laughingly whisk them away She follows along singing a song And her sister takes up the reign
I’m the whisper of the breeze flowing in the trees I’m the drops of morning dew I’m the patter of rain on sun-kissed earth I’m her fragrance as she breathes anew
I’m the usher of times, of blossoms and snow I’m the forger of grand season farewells I’m the music and cadence of the rhythm of life I ring all its wistful and joyful bells.
Mahvash Mohtadullah - The Roaming Desi 