by Rupali Mistry Piper, Piper, play me a song So I can dance And sing along Piper, piper, I hear you now And I’ll follow you Beyond the clouds Piper, piper, stop playing your pipe For I’ll stay awhile In this place of light
Author Archives: Rohini Sunderam
The Angel
by Rupali Mistry
I asked if she Would help me To cross the street My vision’s a blur I don’t even hear My bones as they creak The street’s so wide I cannot decide Where to point my feet Read the rest of this entry
A Rant
What happened to metre and feet?
Why how and when did the poets abandon them?
Were the strictures too tight?
Did they suffocate their flights
Of fancy?
She Snake
I escaped from paradise
Free in the green, the grey mist
The ice and sometimes sunshine…
How did the serpent find me here?
She with the brown-scaled skin, lidless eyes
Grey hood flaring slightly
Sipping whisky, noiselessly,
Mirthless smile and silent laughter
Lips lifted only slightly
Above the fangs and hollow affection
Watching and waiting to strike
And suck empty my egg of peace
In
One
Swift
Hiss
If I should look the other way.
This is some more old verse written many years ago.
On reading the youthful memoirs of Yevgeney Yevtushenko
I came across this piece I’d written almost forty years ago and was quite prepared to relegate it to my personal slush pile or trash it. But, I do believe, we’re all rather attached to our own creations so I didn’t. Then at one of our poetry meetings David Hollywood asked us to write a poem about justice and present it at the following meeting. Since this was my own creation albeit many years before, I decided to read it to the group. And now I offer it to you. I’m curious, does it in any way give away the difference in age?
What is truth?” said jesting Pilate
As he mocked the Prince of Peace
The saddest fact that now remains
The scorner’s sentiment’s increased
And ‘truth’ having gone through much change
Now goes around in guises strange
Writing exercise
For a while at the Bahrain Writers Circle we used to have Creative Writing exercises that were started by Ana Paula Corradini, then continued by Shauna Nearing Loej and Anita Menon. The exercises began with a prompt and we were given about five minutes to take these forward wherever our wild imaginations took them.
Some, like the one below began with a prompt – as indicated by the opening lines – and then the coordinator would throw in random words, also in bold. The challenge was to incorporate these words and still tell a continuous, coherent story.
See what you would do with the following. Send in your stories and if I like them I’ll publish them here!
Wisps of hair quickly fell to the floor while words spilled from her mouth. She loved sitting in that chair pouring her soul out to a total stranger. Such therapy! She was harbouring thoughts of her evil deed and the words came out in code. The danger of speaking about this out loud wasn’t lost on her. She knew she shouldn’t say so much but she felt no shame as the hairdresser’s scissors snipped away her long locks changing her look completely. She was bewildered by the face that was emerging in the mirror. Did that look like a sinner? No. She was done. Changed. And then she rose, picked up her torch and walked into the night, knowing that the deaf hairdresser hadn’t heard a word. The soft velvet of the night embraced her.
Panchatantra – The Jackal & The Drum
Continuing the Panchatantra tales in verse…
(So king Ping-a-laka settled down to hear
Dama-nak-a’s story, all about fear
And an unknown fear, as we all know
Must be faced in order for it to go)
And this dear friends is the tale we’ll hear
About the jackal and the drum he feared
The Jackal and the Drum
A hungry jackal went in search of food
And came to a deserted battlefield
But loud strange sounds made him feel not so good
And he thought to run from the battlefield.
Panchatantra – The Monkey & The Wedge
This story told in rhyme is a continuation of the first book of the Panchatantra, which as we know, consists of five books – Mitra-bhed: The Loss of Friends; Mitra-lābha or Mitra-samprāpti: The Gaining of Friends; Kākolūkīyam: War and Peace; Labdhapraṇāśam: Loss Of Gains; Aparīkṣitakārakaṃ: Ill-Considered Action / Rash deeds. The Monkey & The Wedge is the second of the stories contained within “Mitra-Bhed”.
The Monkey & The Wedge
So Dama-nak-a heard from Kara-tak
The story of the monkey and the wedge
How a merchant once began to build up
A temple of wood at his garden’s edge
Panchatantra – The Loss of Friends
The following is all thanks to Wikipedia: The Panchatantra consists of five books – Mitra-bhed: The Loss of Friends; Mitra-lābha or Mitra-samprāpti: The Gaining of Friends; Kākolūkīyam: War and Peace; Labdhapraṇāśam: Loss Of Gains; Aparīkṣitakārakaṃ: Ill-Considered Action / Rash deeds.
The next few tales in verse are from
The Loss of Friends
The first strategy, it’s quite a patakha*
The loss of friends, as told by two jackals
They were Kara-taka and Da-ma-naka
And these are their tales, not one but all…
Panchatantra in verse
As Wikipedia will inform you The Panchatantra (Five Principles’) is an ancient Indian inter-related collection of animal fables in verse and prose, in a frame story format. What I am attempting to do is to treat these in a modern verse format while, hopefully, retaining the original spirit of the stories. I realise this is a daunting exercise, but it is an interesting challenge for me!
The Prologue
Once upon a time, a long time ago
There was a kingdom in south Indi-a
King Amar-a-sakti ruled it, you know
Mahi-la-ro-pyam of South Indi-a.
