Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts

Sunday, 14 April 2019

2019.2 Ishqbazi

They call it husbandry.
He watches the coterie tumble and
dance, flirt with air-currents,
a smile on his lips,
even as he trains them,
directs their pairings,
with an eye for their offspring’s fortune.

He exhorts them to lean into
the best of what their God gave them,
discarding the careless practices
of his fond but feckless forebears.
Each feather is a treasure,
ribboned ankles a flash of pride
in the heart of his court.

Ringed with gold, fed only the best,
they test the Charkh and the Bazi,
fling themselves into contention with
gravity, pull praises from him,
trust to the truth of his love.
And even after their brief twirls are done,
they grace the zenana, pecking painted grains;
perfect specimens forever.




Pigeons feeding near a golden pigeon cote on a hillside, Mughal, Kashmirmid – 17th Century © The Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge.

Ishqbazi means “love-play” and is what Emperor Akbar used to call pigeon-flying. This is either adorable or slightly creepy. Probably adorable.

Charkh means “a lusty movement ending with the pigeon throwing itself over in a full circle”

Bazi means “lying on the back with the feet upwards, and quickly turning round”

Zenana “contextually refers to the part of a house belonging to a Hindu or Muslim family in the Indian subcontinent which is reserved for the women of the household.”

Monday, 28 April 2014

#28 Sonar

Personal boxing - one-to-one. Tone fast!

I toddle down steps
Swapping stares soaked in adrenaline
Mine mellowing,
Flipping legs tick-tock,
Bagged and shouldered
Through the door,
I tip my hat to a cold
I'm not feeling yet.

Mind you, looking at those flumes now - they're actually tiny...

The discipline of seal-folk
Is a plait of after-dinner chlorine
Goggle-blind and arcing
We reconstruct plash and echo
Out here in the dark

Large chips for the lady. Large chips now! To go!

Caramel polyglot slots orders,
And eyebrows, surprised by his own
Return smile.
This is a place of serious conversation
Man-talk, pizza-based debates

Shokran. Bel'afiah. Sala'am alaikum! Ah!

He flips a salute,
His smile still wary, but settling,
Swerves back to cuff someone
With height and youth
And words

Осы маған алып бер-! Мен солалқындыру білемін!

Slim fingers haggle in the dark,
Darting over the tiny car,
Birthed in parts from
The lotus crotch of chocolate,
Delight manifesting in
Brightly-coloured clicks
Just in time - all rise
For the lumbering beacon.

... greatly overexpressed in adipose tissue...

Graphs dance,
Sinuous as late-night swimmers,
Bisecting words
Waving, as I sneak
A shoulder-glance at my past

We climb inside tiny screens
And printed screeds
And fingernails
And the slick trail of lights
We are night-bound
And homeward
Rapt in our nodding
Towards journey's end.

Monday, 29 April 2013

#29 Wonderful Signs

I'm currently studying BSL. This is another true story (coz it turns out there's only so far mythology, seasons, and number associations can take me when it comes to poetry! :D).

She spins words out of
Thin air - spare, yet
Layered, and rich with
The craft of years.
Each sentence an efficient
Dance, each reprimand
Precise - a mallet tap
To guide the hapless.

Time maps out between
Her palms as she releases
Double-helix secrets
From her flesh,
Pressing memory
From liminal
To visible.

Somehow, last week,
We asked the magic
Question after months
Of feckless repetition and then
New dimensions trembled open,
Lotus-like, as petals
Bloomed from spikes,
Rare smiles scattered,
Drifted into place.

And we apprentices
Kept pace -
This new softness
All a portrait of
Her daughter and her
Clever ways who makes
Waves and wishes
With her mother,
And thunder with her
Distant father.

Our teacher's eyes glow,
Holding up this picture
Of her child - the one
Who knows so many worlds,
Whirling sure-foot,
Balancing on sleighted hands
And landing,
Wrapped in love
From every side.

Heart open wide,
Her mother smiles
And we nod, silent,
Thankful for this glimpse,
This trust, this touch,
This brimming image
Of what unguarded happiness
A parent's love can bring.