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I WAS THE POET
He was unprepared for what I did. Though deeply in love with him, I shut the door. He thought my love was the occasion to kid, And so I made sure we wouldn’t speak anymore. His rank dragged him into...
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LOVE IS A LUXURY
Love is a luxury few can afford, The greatest drug to take when you are bored, Love is a death in the middle of your life, The secret you keep from your friends and your wife. Can you afford sleepless...
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INSANITY IS CONTAGIOUS
“They fuck you up, your mum and dad” –P. Larkin A good immune system will stop any germ, But the mind has an interest where the body does not; The body grows from egg and sperm, But the mind alters...
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WE ARE BUT A SUM TOTAL OF OUR LOSSES—A POEM BY SAIRA SHAH HALIM
Saira Shah Halim is an educator, communications consultant, activist, and poet. WE ARE BUT A SUM TOTAL OF OUR LOSSES And they live in us like little monsters, trying to break free, the sum total of...
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BEAUTY TRAVELS AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT
A festival’s autumn, slanting sun Found beauty, and there was more than one Among the young women, walking, In comfortable clothes, makeup, not much talking. When light shines in a beautiful woman’s...
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POEM WITH AN IMAGE BY SHELLEY
What is life? Making toilets clean. This is what we do, And the veneer of vanity becomes thicker As we move up the totem, standing on this task. Cleaning solves the old, and discovers the new. Vain...
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I WISH I WERE SAD
I wish I were sad, sadder than I’ve ever been before, So my heart—which is sad—could respond to these waves dying on the shore— With a slow, somnolent, monotonous sound— Befitting a slow symphony...
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DAIPAYAN NAIR
What has happened to contemporary literature? When did it become so overly serious, so full of itself? What is literature supposed to do? Literature is supposed to show us life, if not here, than over...
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PUNISHMENT IS INTERESTING
Punishment is interesting. Who gets to punish? You, or the fates? “Getting what you deserve” fascinates. Love is when we say, “you deserve me,” And then we put our lover through hell, Because we know...
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SHE PICKED ME OUT, A GENTLE SOUL, TO LOVE
She picked me out, a gentle soul, to love— Finding a different man within— To love rivers, slow, feeding deer and dove, To love placid phrases and the easy grin— Not a fighter and a rival, obsessed...
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AND IF YOU DREAM
And if you dream, they call it procrastination, Which is bad, they say. You lose all, wasting time. Yet think of all the good I did, putting off The adventures that could kill me. I would have died of...
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LOVE IS A BURDEN
Love was a silly dare. Because it involved care. When my lover began to not care, She embraced it. Love is so much care That we love it when love is no longer there. She runs from me. I am care. That...
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LOVE WITHOUT WORK
My limbs are tired. The flesh I prefer is the eye. Heaven’s in it. It’s almost an effort to sigh. I lie around, enjoying beauty, The kind that’s always been there. Another ordinary day has offered sun...
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YOU DON’T KNOW
You don’t know. How could you know? We never know what another knows. The thing we don’t know is what the other knows. We know the rest. The light, everywhere light goes, The darkness, and how the...
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HURT, HURT
Hurt, hurt, as much as you can, Hurt and flirt, and torture the man, All of you women, hurt men like mad, So I don’t feel so alone and sad, So I won’t feel the horrible pain Of the dying soldier who...
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POETRY IS A JOKE
Poetry is a joke. This was well established long ago When the first clown took the stage And the fighting stopped temporarily And laughter was given to old age, Laughter by poets sad and old. Poetry...
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WHEN BEAUTY TRIES TO LOVE, WE LAUGH
When beauty tries to love, we laugh. The porn actress’s biggest gaffe Had been innocent; she vocalized a love for a person Who hated her—which led to her ruin. She took revenge on eyes of flesh By...
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LIFE IS A FOUNTAIN
Life is a fountain. To escape the mucky earth of graves We build towers and houses and beds. The rationalizing and intellectualizing and facebooking, The bubble of mainstream conspiracy which keeps us...
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HALLOWEEN
The black cat explained the history Of wardrobe, whisker, claw, and the clues He kept dropping became Obvious enough after awhile. The rubber Frankenstein reminded no one Of Mary Shelley. It was...
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ALLITERATION: A BRIEF ESSAY ON POETRY
A poem is just an interesting person saying interesting things. I don’t read Heine and Shakespeare and Keats for phrases of pretty alliteration. The poets today describe Shelley’s statue—and then tell...
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