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.
Be still my beating heart It’s only the setting sun With its fiery orange hues Tinged with scarlet and indigo They’re the colours of a day that’s done Be still my beating heart It’s only the setting sun
Be still my racing blood It’s only the ocean wide It’s waves unfurling liquid lace Onto my upturned, sun-warmed face As I leap into the rushing tide Be still my racing blood It’s only the ocean wide
Be still my aching breast It’s only a trail in the greenwood glade Hemmed on the edges with wild flowers Glistening in the wake of a spring shower It’s only the whispering leaf dappled shade Be still my aching breast It’s only a trail in the greenwood glade
Be still my breathless lungs It’s only the afternoon sky With a rainbow that has looped around The azure blueness like a crown A beautiful palette of pastel dyes Be still my breathless lungs It’s only the after-rain sky
Be still my quickening breath It’s only the lover’s first kiss You’ve been on that road before You’ve flown where the eagles soar And also curled up where the earthworms live Be still my quickening breath It’s only the sweetheart’s first kiss
Be still my beating heart It’s only the setting sun The mystical ocean and the greenwood glade The after-rain sky and the lover’s kiss It’s the enchantment that nostalgia has spun Be still my beating heart It’s just life in perpetual thrum.
Dappled sunlight Upon my skin Warm, streaming motes Kiss my neck My arms, my face Whispering sweet nothings Caressing, comforting My shoulders drop The weight of the world That sits on them Like twin rocks I’m no longer Atlas Holding up the sky Shivering In its storminess Legs quivering Under its burden of sighs And tears and loss For now It has all melted away The coldness, the heaviness, the grey For now There is only a quiet joy A rainbow sprinkling Of dappled sunlight Upon my skin Thawing me, warming me From within.
My book SHIMMERING SCRAPS OF POETRY AND MADNESS is now available at the following locations:
SRI LANKA: - THE BAREFOOT BOOKSTORE - THE JAM FRUIT TREE BOOKSTORE - PENDI - SARSASAVI BOOKSTORES - EXPOGRAPHICS
PAKISTAN: - LIBERTY BOOKS - PARAMOUNT BOOKS - READINGS
ABOUT THE BOOK:
The book is a collection of poems and essays, and as the name suggests, the contents of the 243 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, and like a sore-throated bulbul (who also has some clear-voice days) I have sung them all for you.
My book of poetry and essays SHIMMERING SCRAPS OF POETRY AND MADNESS will be available in bookstores across Pakistan and Sri Lanka at the end of December 2022.
FRIENDS IN SL can get their copies TODAY from the Jam Fruit Tree bookstore on Galle road in Colombo via call/ WhatsApp to 072-7268078.
Shimmering Scraps is a collection of poems and essays, 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.
The book is divided into five sections: Joy, Foot-in-the-mouth, Truth, Hope and Serenity. The Truth and Foot-in-the-Mouth categories are especially brazen and raw. As with most such uninhibited writing, the objective is to assail the sensibilities and even if just for a while, to look the truth right in its jaundiced eye. The other three sections are largely whimsical and uplifting very much like walking through a zen corridor, which I’m hoping, will also soften the sensory assault of the former two segments.
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.
A haiku is an unrhymed Japanese poetic form that consists of 17 syllables arranged in three lines containing five, seven, and five syllables, respectively. A haiku expresses much and suggests more in the fewest possible words. Trying my hand at the lithe and sinewy art form.
Some gladness, some strife Mixed in with some love and hope Faultless slice of life.
It opens again Haltingly, poundingly, my Newly love-drenched heart.
The light shone, my soul Soared. The monitor too glowed In final farewell.
The pane shudders, shakes In the wind. The pelting rain Renews, whets the pain.
The old men sit snug In their fortressed halls waiting Out the raging storm.
She lay down to rest The crickets were still. There were None six feet under.
The breeze kissed my face Whispering, praying we would Never meet again.
Tea with buttered toast A little sip, a bite, my Broken heart revived.
The wind pulled at him The kite pulled at his laughter Heart in hand they soared.
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.
Mahvash Mohtadullah - The Roaming Desi 