Friday, February 15, 2013

MAKATA Vol.14, Issue No.2

SALT

             Tú eres la lisa superficie
             de la inmovilidad
    You are the smooth surface
             of immobility
       -- Clara Janés


There is salt
in the sand

invisible
unknown
as the sea washes up
sand on the beach

she leaves
silica and salt

damp at first
and then dry

then rains come
to wash out the salt

rivulets flowing
into puddles

salty tears
of the sea
now on land

where
they dry white
as a cloud


DISSOLVING  INTO  STORIES

Stalking memories
to replenish half-absconded faces
asking the journalist’s
Where When Who and Why
scrutinizing the immediate and remote past

Mining and minting memories
by groping for visual, gripping words
allowing the occasional singsong
of storytelling for grateful ears

But my sons tell me
You have already told us
this story five times
one too many

I say and smile   Go ahead
and cover your ears
when I’m dead you might need
all the stories you can get 

Don’t you see
I’m already dissolving
into stories  



CRYSTAL  COVE,  CALIFORNIA

                               la danza curva del agua en la orilla
                                    the water’s curvy dance on the shore

                                                             -- Lorca

Sand patient
to the impatient
imprint of water
rivulets etching
light and dark panes
aureoles branch off
stretch to leafy designs

Sand the water ferries
grain for grain out to sea
that water carries back
settling concentric
dripping sliding hillocks
surrounding restless rivulet springs

Sand slipping through placid
puddles left by the surge
of the last tide
a tacit placid river
itself overwhelmed
swept to and fro by the tide
the pull of earth and water
tugging at each other
pushing and pulling
fusing to consummate

Sea and land
lovers like us
interwined


GOOD  NIGHT

playing among the ruined languages
-W. H. Auden

was it for you
just a lonely moment
that we met
and by chance
responded

that we
smiled
laughed
stammered
reassuring syllables
no language
in common

and now
that moment past
between us
you’ve taken
your self elsewhere
you don’t hear
don’t answer

air void and silent
slowly creeping
over my night
I miss you
and cannot tell

Good night



CHANGING  COLORS


                                  por lo que no puedo ver
               llevo los ojos abiertos
               for what I cannot see
                                 I keep my eyes open
       Pedro Salinas
           
I hide out
in the forest
of your words
in the shade of shadows

to find you
find my self
perhaps a dream

[me he quedado muda]
[I remain speechless]

we touch hands
lonely and alive
we change colors
in the embracing breeze
(embracing in the breeze)

a fog of veiled colors
floating whys
lepidopteral maybes
ever changing

words dart out
buzzing mosquitoes
chamaeleon tongues
embryonic inchoate
to tempt

(I listen aphasic
as a blushing flower)

just think
what could go wrong
no do not think that
live what goes right
let’s
the moment
the dream


MUTUAL  CURIOSITY

Eyes looking at you
in the museum
not those of the vigilant guards
disappearing like shifty bats
around corners, suddenly
reappearing again
(maybe you do look suspicious)

But luminous eyes
bits of blue and brown
couched in a shiny, pearly white
painted on a face in the center
eyes of the smiling child in a corner
old beggar at left staring at you

Eyes look out
from the painting
the painter intended
focused on you
--a glance to bridge centuries
peace and beauty in a rough world—

To look you over today
in the twinkle of an eye
the Dutchman at the tavern
alluring smiley eyes
of a Baroque lady in blue

Eyes fascinated perhaps
by your hairdo, your outfit
such strange things
they did not wear in 1590
but above all your eyes 

© Ute Margaret Saine



Learning

I saw a guillotine in a movie
I am often haunted by a guillotine
in my consciousness
the question is not
who has taught me the guillotine
but why I have learnt
the guillotine
is it
just to have my head roll
or someone else's
then what if from the dust
I learn a tree
the bare branches
a puppet show
the right and left
crisscrossing
in a contortionist's shape
the sky is a mirror
from the dust I learn
a hole in the stem
a scary blot
it never looks at
a bird in the hole
nestles some eggs
a perfect home.


Scream

from the caves of ice
mineral water drips
here a river is born
from the flow of eyes

the river grows into a girl
performing a journey
she sings along her way
as water coils into a swirl

over the still water
a lonely star stinks
not knowing where to stand
not knowing how to mutter

the damn things it dreams
the spectral vapour
the marauding clouds
as the river, the girl, screams.

© Bishnupada Ray

Bishnupada Ray's latest book of poems Discarded Self and Selected Poems has come out from Hyphen Publications, Shimla, India.



Celestial Treat

Your thumbs
hard pressed on my neck
move down
kneading my spine
skillfully relieving
tension.

With a firm grasp
and a sudden jerk
you weed
the tough roots
of my knuckles
to a painful relief.

Your palms
rub my soles delicately
stimulating blood circulation
as I lie down on the floor.

The moon gleams
through the window
your shadow falls on me
bigger than you are today
or you would be.

@ Ashok Bhargava



My Goddess

A Greek beauty you are not,
yet on a pedestal you I shall place,
for you transcend them all,
in beauty and in grace.

Flowers and sweets I shall offer,
along with my throbbing heart,
and at your pedestal's base,
these you will find.

Honor you I shall with my tender kisses,
planted on your cold, cold feet,
until at last my love's warmth,
may change the marble into flesh.

Then my Love, my Goddess,
bliss will suffuse my heart,
and your love I shall partake,
and join you in the realm of the gods.


A Prayer

Oh, Great CREATOR, I come to You not to beseech trifles, and wants, and needs.
For You  are omniscient and know my needs and wants
and I need not kneel to You to be bestowed these blessings.
Oh, ALMIGHTY, even if You do not grant all my wants, I understand
For do I not deprive my daughters of too much sweets,
for I love them so much and desire that their teeth be white.
Oh, LOVE, though I feel pain in my heart and soul and body I love You still.
For did not my earthly mother give me bitters for my agues and pain?
And did she not give it out of LOVE and not of spite.
Oh, PROVIDER OF LIFE, I thank You for all the sweet and bitter things in my life.
For You provide it for me, I accept without question.
Because I trust in Your LOVE and UNDERSTANDING of me.
Oh, TOTALITY, I have nothing to give You in return
For even my life is Yours,
Only my heartful thanks for all the LOVE in You


ALLOW ME

Allow me,
to partake of your warmth,
and your sensuous softness,
and get intoxicated,
with your delicious smell.

Allow me,
to taste your lips,
and in your lovely arms be trapped,
and get delirious,
with your sensuality.

Drown me, my Love,
willing am I,
to sink into you,
and stay there forever,
drown me please..........


IS IT OKAY??????

Is it okay if I ask you to leave,
My dear, my one and only one,
Happy moments we shared,
Such intimacy we had,
Yet, my dear, my sweet little thing,
I feel I need something else,
And I know I shall miss you.

Your sinuous lines captivate me,
Your smooth soft curves titillate me,
And when I touch you,
You respond with such delight,
That I am overwhelmed,
You purr with my every touch,
And your purr incites me more.

You’re yet so young and exquisitely beautiful,
I know that someone will fall in love with you,
Someone young who will treasure you,
As I treasured you my love,
Is it okay if I ask you to leave,
I still love you, and you know that,
But I’ve outgrown you my Love.

May I let you go?

Is it okay ?

© Ariel Zabat



May Ganitong Paghihiwalay

Binibigyang laya
Ng lalake

        Ang babae

Kahit hindi naman
Ibon na nasa hawla.

At may gabing uupo siya
Sa kanyang silid-aklatan
Binubuklat ang nagkutang
Alaala ng kasintahan.

Mapapatingin siya sa may bintana.

Walang tala.

Walang buwan.

Tanging Karimlan!


Dumarating kang Tulad ng Hangin

Dumarating kang tulad ng hangin
Humahalik,
Pabalik-balik
Sa bawat himaymay ng aking laman

Hindi ko na kailangang  sumipol

Kusang darating at darating
Kang may matapat na pagkandili
Sa lahat ng oras

At tulad ng hangin, labis kong
Ikamamatay ang iyong pagkawala.

© Glen Sales

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