Saturday, May 9, 2009

Marziya and My Camera Eye

without a camera she watches
through
the aperture of her eye
she knows she is ready
I will click the trigger
by and by
two photographers
master and disciple
changing places
you know why
a poetic pause
held captive
that wont fly

marziya shakir
successor
to my heritage
when I die

Happy Motherless Day

pain of being motherless
hits us hard on mothers day
on the pavements of mumbai
we beg live and play

Happy Motherless Day

being motherless means
never having to say you are sorry
even when you are having a bad day
come what may
we always find our way

Surrogate Mothers Day

given on rent and hire
thats how I spend my day
carried on the waist
of another child
surrogate mothers day

Happy Motherless Day

A borrowed school uniform
I beg on the streets
where I stay
Mother
is only a tag
Google Searching
my sorrow today

Happy Motherless Day

Mother
Oh Mother
Sweet Mother
No more than this
Can I say
you made me a mother
by the way
with gratitude
I look after your new born
now that you have
passed away

Happy Motherless Day

i was a burden
to you
to father
now you
have left me and gone away
a pavement my life's shelter
happy motherless day

Happy Motherless Day

www.glennlosackmd.com/-/glennlosackmd/

our mother
with another man ran away
we remember her today
on mothers day
in a shanty
with our grand parents we stay
our father on earth a boozard
some say
we miss our mother
hope she returns to us
one day
we earnestly
as beggars pray
our sorrow shot by
an uncle from USA
a charpoy
woven woes
no toys to play

A Poor Mother's Day

Mothers day
each year comes reminding a mother
her 9 months struggle her pain
her sacrifice than goes away

poor mothers day everyday
as on the streets she begs away
drumming her way through life
a living tax to society
she has to pay
a future bleak voteless identity
nameless Indian by the way
two legged human stray
my pedestrian poetry of pain
on this day might sound cliche
heat and humidity
bare burning feet
stomachs to feed
in sweltering May
decadence despondency
disappointment
dread and decay
on your 30"computer
screen silently
on display

To Dr Glenn Losack MD

Eunuch Mother's Day

surrogate motherhood
painful memories
some bad
some ugly
some good
a eunuch mother
babita
of a eunuch child
mona
a fractured childhood
given away to the eunuchs
the same night she was born
because
a eunuch in society is a curse
a thought misunderstood
yet bought up with
abundance of love
a destiny's child
a destiny no good
the hijras lucky mascot
dancing her way
towards life
towards diaphanous
womanhood
doing what she should
touch on wood
a tear drop of despair
unflinchingly
unfailingly
as mothers day
on paper
eunuch motherhood
withstood

Going From Bad To Verse

living in a world of prose (firoze)
going from bad to verse
a head full of words
afflicted like swine flu
of poems
I curse
sold myself cheaply on the internet
someone pick pocketed
my pictorial purse
a broken heart a broken soul
a rhetoric of pain of a pedestrian poet
with a pinch of passion
I nurse
fail falter feign
a worse fate
in the face of ignominy
I need not rehearse
pain they rob with petulance
dehydrated dreams of a dead body
in a rickety hearse
grave diggers hopelessly
waiting at an empty grave
your dispirited soul
with earth and gravel
to reimburse

Marziyas New Tricycle

documenting her
childhood
in humility
I have tried
exposed to my camera
inherited pride
my pictorial muse besides
a new tricycle
on the street of serenity
that she rides
through images
from one moment
to another moment
into human hearts
she slides

The Pain and Passion of a Shia Pandit

enjoying
the spiritual colors
of humanity
as gods gift
he a hindu
me a muslim
different ideology
we have no rift
on the karmic consciousness
of peace
we drift
saffronized serenity
hope and hindutva
bit by bit
synchronized solace
on sands that shift
the pain and passion
embedded as hussainiyat
of a shia pandit
as Indians
on a nations plurality
as brothers co exist
we bleed the same pain
the same sorrow
if you cut our wrists
yes we are both born
from a single grain
as humanists

I want to go to
Hindustan
said the Holy Imam
a land
where Hospitality
Hope and Harmony
exists
In the Land of the Crescent
Muslims killing Muslims
a sad thought hits
sectarian hate
sectarian strife
puritanical poison
on evil heart sits
dogmatic silence
a spiritual thought twists

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