I look at the book Have I read it before? It’s a throng of short stories My favourite genre I took it from the shelf In my own home So it has to be one of the For-sure-read tomes Still, as I glanced At the back cover blurb Nothing jumped out Not a line, not a word I looked at its front Multi shades of grey The image glimmered In its dusky array
I opened the book I had to recall A story, a plot twist A mystery resolved In the 267 pages I held in my hand So I started reading Page one, it began: That day Alisha Looked up at the sky The purples and blues Looked terribly awry … The rest of the story Unwrapped itself As I glanced through page two Of the book from my shelf Yes I had read it The memory crept in Of ETs and UFOs And otherworldly things
Of skittering creatures That had huge heads Full of insidious plans To make us all dead Or not! Even in fiction They were polite Giving us choices Being forthright Choices! Forthrightness! Now those are things That are as alien now as Well … human beings! Laughing, I put The Sci-Fi away Our own lives were stranger Than fiction these days
It’s your birthday today And I wanted to say That I wish I could see you For a little while today That your essence surrounds me On all of my days Even if you are a breath or eons away That I love you And I miss you everyday. Even if my words limited as they are While making their cosmic way to you Should lose their form, be strewn apart That the love in them still finds its way to you
I hope that you are happy and you’re well I hope you still have your special sparkle I hope you’re still lighting up lives As a friend, a mentor, a spirit divine I hope your radiant glow also reaches within To make your big, lovely heart sing
My dearest I hope you get this message of mine In these words, on the breeze or in the warm sunshine My memories of you are full of joy Uplifting, heartwarming, they don’t usually hurt But today thoughts of you that flit through my mind Bring a sweet achiness to my throat
It’s your birthday dear Mama and I wanted to say May the choicest of blessings fill your time and space.
I looked at her over my coffee mug Stealing silent glances Looking her way Then looking away My heart had set up a regular cacophony As I stared at her secretly From above the rim of my cup That I brought to my lips to sip, The adrenaline instead making me chug She sat there, serene and beautiful An ode to perfection itself Between the gulps I watched and drooled Oh lord! I felt like such a fool! I took in a ragged breath I had to calm myself I had to let the feeling pass To wring it, wash it from my heart I had to fight, wrest my hungry eyes Off that whetter of fantasies, that queen of delight That mesmerizing, will-defying Passion Fruit Tart
Day breaks and I’m asleep But I can tell it’s dawn again The light touches my retina Through the barrier of my skin It gently feels its way around The darkness behind my shuttered lids Then it sits itself down Waiting for me to let it in To start its morning ritual of Dancing with my rods and cones The caper sometimes morphs into A red hot duel that is fought Electro-impulsively in my brain Where the battleground is wrought Or we break into a marathon run Away, away from every one Flowing with the adrenaline Out of the arteries, into the veins I lead it where it needs to go Some days we waltz, and on some We antelope it out the door Day breaks, I open my eyes to see I’m floating, floating into infinity.
I sit with the sweet pain Of remonstrating muscles Aching tendons It’s been a good day I’ve clocked my vital number Of steps again Day Eight. Eight days. Day Eight Of doing my best The precious little victories Sit like shiny safety pins In my body. Their lancing points Glimmering. Abrading. Wounding Forcing tiny trickles of red-hot plasma To run outside my veins In the sweet agony of pain Reminding me that I’m still alive I’m still surviving, still striving Still clocking all the steps That keep this life ongoing Going on. Ongoing. Going on I breathe in deeply. Tonight I am serene, there will be no dreams To torture or torment me. Tonight In Sleep’s benumbing arms I will lay down my head I breathe out, uncoil, soft-ache-bound As I sink into the swelling seams of my bed.
A tad controversial? Maybe. But am I still saying it out loud, in rhyme and meter no less? But of course. Some folks mull over things in the privacy of their heads, others whisper them in low tones while my iPad … well, it just blurts them out, no holds barred. Whoosh! Here it comes like a sweetly painful winter chill to get your adrenaline up and your spine a-tingle.
Hello 46th* Are you seeing this? A war has been stoked Europe has refugees - Look! The shock of it! Afghanistan and Kashmir Don’t count; neither does The Middle East Oh please! The world is used to those People, forever in the throes Of some tragedy, Some devilry, Some new-fangled holocausts Of their own
Russia, the land of Ruskis and Putin You do so hate them all, Joe Biden Your last names though Have such a harmonious ring Putin, Biden … Biden, Putin But I digress, your sentiments Have reached across the continents To grapple at the throat Of that villainous foe That Trump-loving pariah That creator of election drama That divider of the faithful And good American folks
Oh, and you’re still not over The Hunt for Red October* The hunt that Hunter* hunted Via the Kiev crossover All the chickens that got away Came home to roost and lay Their devilled eggs, without the yolks Putin had them all artichoked! You believe in all of it The fairytale, the who-dunnit To Russia is where all the trenches lead Putin has always been so full of sheeet!
So now there’s bloody war afoot The gloves are off, we’re all in it It’s the same old American adage “You’re with us or you’re with the villains” And while you’re beating That hoodoo drum The whole world is slipping Into a recession. There’s no food, no fuel, No jobs to do These trickle-down economics Don’t affect you They make their insidious paths towards The poor, the beaten, the never seen nor heard
Hellooo 46th Do you at least see How so much is attributable To you directly? The depression, the frustration The agony That is doing the rounds On its maleficent spree I can see how you wont See this like we do How? you declare, can Uncle Sam be such a brute?! But you are! You are! And a bully to boot! On a final note, dear Joe May A tad bit of third worldliness That has so diligently been foisted on us Graciously, karmically circle around To you and yours. Please be assured It will be an experience profound.
* 46th: the 46th president of the USA
* The Hunt for Red October: Tom Clancy’s debut novel, it shows the contrast between Soviet and American societies as exemplified by their militaries. Another significant theme that is played out on several levels of the novel is that of betrayal.
* Hunter: Joe Biden’s son who is rumoured to have had dodgy business connections with Ukraine.
A storm is unleashed In sheets upon sheets Of pouring rain In a cacophony Pounding the ears Pounding the earth For a while The storm becomes a part of me I listen … I hear a howl, a primal cry I’m agitated, it feels so familiar I still my breath … I know that voice I’ve heard it before Finding itself In a tropical downpour As the sky tore open its breast Pouring out its glutted greyness On my world that was floating upon Even tides of peace and rest I heard it then, the banshee scream It swelled upon the torrents that Came down in never ending sheets I heard it then as I hear it now That voice that is screaming inside me
Mahvash Mohtadullah 