but the last postcard
had come thirteen months ago,
from Budapest,
here the sky is crushed muslin
and the endless river rhymes in its sleep;
and books had turned weary on their shelves
having held their secrets too long,
dust choking every last word,
pyramids hold up this cloudless Cairo sky,
the past shimmers in the heat waves, just beyond my reach;
while waiting has a spurious smell,
the sour reminder of milk
left out too long,
pink is the fragrance of Osaka’s sakura blossoms,
their colour is that of a slow smile that almost reaches a moist eye;
not knowing is the knot,
at the bottom of an empty well
strewn with hope shaped stones,
the crackle of fire, the hiss of empty water bags,
who can tell what lies beneath the flood of Saharan sand;
because yearning still tastes of defeat,
and silence is the enduring midwife
of epiphanic pain,
everywhere, something feels like home,
everywhere, something feels further away;
the last postcard
was thirteen months old,
a new crease
separated cloud and water.
I love this for thegeograohy thrown through the poem as well as the cadence, mood, conversation and the way you reform the order of things. The geography remark is not flippant. That hit a real nerve I is something I enjoy in Basho’s haiku when he does it.
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Thanks Hamish… we lost the charm of postcards to social media posts, was trying to evoke some of that old emotion.
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Another novel in verse! (I love them.) Very poignant.
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Thanks Rosemary.
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surely i am going through the collection of postcards. each strophe seems like a snapshot of a postcard. 🙂
excellent piece of writing!
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Thanks so much. Glad you liked it.
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This is such a beautiful, eloquent piece of writing. There are some wonderful lines in this, but I thought “hope shaped stones” was brilliant. It gave me pause, and then I realized: hope comes in the shape that you WANT it to be in.
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Thanks so much Wendy.
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This piece speaks volumes of places, promises and wanting. Love it…bkm
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Thank you 🙂
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This is an absolutely wonderful and beautiful poem, stark and haunting and beautiful. My favorite image is the idea of what lurks beneath the Saharan sand.
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Thanks so much Matthew.
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I love the contrasting voices here, and especially like the newcrease between sky and water. Beautifully done.
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Thanks so much Sherry.
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Pure poetry, every line and stanza. And a poem within a poem. So rich for the senses.
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Thanks so much Colleen. Much appreciated.
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Good heavens, I’m speechless. I could read this a hundred times in succession and never tire of its beauty. You have quite a gift.
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Thanks so much, that’s very kind. Much appreciated.
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Reflective and nostalgic, poignantly beautiful!
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Thanks Mary.
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Those books weary on the shelf is a truly powerful and haunting image..
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Thank you Jae.
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Love every word of it…”silence is the enduring midwife / of epiphanic pain,” wow…
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Thank you 🙂
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What overwhelming sadness there is in this poem and so beautifully written.
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Thanks so much Robin.
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This is exquisite work, Rajani! ❤️
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Thank you Sanaa 🙂
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That crease on the postcard is a wonderful image… love the dialogue
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Thanks Bjorn.
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Precious writing. Love this very much.
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Thanks so much
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This is so beautiful, I love the different voices in here.
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Thanks so much, glad you liked it.
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