Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Red Brocade: A Poem by Naomi Shihab Nye

Sunday, October 23rd, 2011

A friend gave me Naomi Shihab Nye‘s wonderful 19 Varieties of Gazelle  a month or so ago. I regularly use colored flags to mark paragraphs or pages of readings I like, in fiction, history or poetry.  It is very unusual to have the  ”like a lot” tag on every page, but that’s the situation with Nye.  I posted “Visit” a while back, and today am very pleased by Red Brocade.

 

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

*

“Red Brocade”
by Naomi Shahab Nye
from  19 Varieties of Gazelle

 

You May Hold My Falcon

Saturday, September 17th, 2011

Visit

Welcome to Abu Dhabi,
the Minister of Culture said.
You may hold my falcon as we visit.
He slipped a leather band around my arm
and urged the bird to step on board.
It wore a shapely leather hood.
Or otherwise, the host described,
the bird might pluck out your very eyes.
My very eyes were blinking hard
behind the glasses that they wore.
The falcon’s claws, so hooked and huge,
gripped firmly on the leather band.
I had to hold my arm out high.
My hand went numb. The heavens shone
a giant gold beyond our room.
I had no memory why I’d come
to see this man.
A falcon dives, and rips, and kills!
I think he likes you though.
It was the most I could have hoped for then.
We mentioned art.
We drank some tea.
He offered to remove the hood.
I said the bird looked very good just wearing it.
All right by me.

Naomi Shibab Nye
19 Varieties of Gazelle
*
A friend sent me Nye’s wonderful collection. After just a few days, I recommend it to you…

(more…)

The Republic of Poetry

Wednesday, October 6th, 2010
by Martin Espada

For Chile

In the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
as plum trees rock
and horses kick the air,
and village bands
parade down the aisle
with trumpets, with bowler hats,
followed by the president
of the republic,
shaking every hand.

In the republic of poetry,
monks print verses about the night
on boxes of monastery chocolate,
kitchens in restaurants
use odes for recipes
from eel to artichoke,
and poets eat for free.

In the republic of poetry,
poets read to the baboons
at the zoo, and all the primates,
poets and baboons alike, scream for joy.

In the republic of poetry,
poets rent a helicopter
to bombard the national palace
with poems on bookmarks,
and everyone in the courtyard
rushes to grab a poem
fluttering from the sky,
blinded by weeping.

In the republic of poetry,
the guard at the airport
will not allow you to leave the country
until you declaim a poem for her
and she says Ah! Beautiful.

I’m off for the rest of the week with a couple of friends to a poetry festival in all places, Newark, New Jersey. Many poets and story tellers in a format like a folk-festival. Among the invitees – Martin Espada. Expect some floating words…

Rumi: A Poet Like No Other

Friday, October 9th, 2009

What a fortune it is to have friends to send you arrows that lodge in your heart! I got a gift a while back which stayed in its wrapper until just recently, so that arrow had been shot and sort of disappeared into the air. I knew he had shot it. It landed and stayed quiet in repose, not waiting for me at all. When I opened it, suddenly it lept out, and with the full force of its sending, struck my heart!

Poems by Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, in wonderful translations and readings by Coleman Barks, a North Carolinian I have met once or twice, brought together by translation and the adventure of removing the strangeness from strangers. Oh, how wonderful!

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along.

From Essential Rumi
by Coleman Barks

Love is from the infinite, and will remain until eternity.
The seeker of love escapes the chains of birth and death.
Tomorrow, when resurrection comes,
The heart that is not in love will fail the test.

From Thief of Sleep
by Shahram Shiva

Peaceful Rivers

And more of Coleman’s work. You can get audio and video for money you will never think twice about….

And here you can get audio in iTunes and other mp3 formats.

ColemanBarksRumi