Poem- Love Song

Pablo Picasso, The Fan

Love came to me one summer

out of the deep of the night.

Spun from the velvet fabric

of darkness it settled itself in my hair,

my skin and my thighs.

From the dark he came.

I lit the old lantern-

bright light, divine light.

I opened myself to receive

his warmth in a liquid embrace.

From then on, I fell to unimaginable depths.

Since then, I have soared to startling heights.

He opened a hidden door.

Every image was inverted

as if in a mirror.

He showed me how the stars

that shine so bright

on a rare clear night,

are secure in the knowledge

of the great unknown.

He made me a gift of ecstasy.

I have built my life on his love.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Sadness

Edward Munch, The Day After

It comes and goes.

It swirls like a dense fog

through my blood

suffocating veins, choking my throat.

My heart beats without rhythm,

concentrated in muscled agony

far in advance

of intense anxiety approaching-

it kills happiness.

He suffers with me.

Brings me roses and lilies,

adorning my cracked skin

with his hopes and broken dreams.

And I die of guilt.

Oh How I perish with guilt!

There is no hope for a mind collapsing

beneath the weight of an old sorrow,

unresolved, demanding conclusion,

like a ghost haunting

its last dwelling

on earth.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Last Prayer of a Dying Lover

Letter written by John Keats to Fanny Brawne

In memory of John Keats

If I could hold your hand and never let it go,

We would walk for hours across the moors

Beneath a star speckled sky and the glow

Of the night maiden's silvery allure.

Softly we would tread hand in hand

Through leafy lanes crowned by gleaming arches

Of trees heaving 'neath a foliage grand

To ferry you back to your beloved Marshes.

On the wings of memory we would enraptured fly

To the misty lands that gave us birth;

The lute's trembling strains would make you cry

And for a moment deny, your innocent mirth.

By the softly humming brook we shall lie

And I would clasp you tightly to my breast.

In your love's sweet ecstasy I would die

To be born anew, to my eternal rest.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Single Factory Mother

Fernand Leger, Woman with a Cat, 1921

Quiet bashful Delia

who works for ten straight hours

over at a paper factory

where they sift mechanically

through standardized rag

paraphernalia.

And when she comes home,

all worn out and body blown

apart,

she finds her teen aged son

glued to the television,

his glassy eyes reflecting

the aimless visual drone.

She has just four hours

to undo the disorder

before her varicose legs,

like overused wooden pegs,

would no longer be able

to justly sustain her.

She rushes about,

wiping the baby's mouth

with a dust-laden flannel cloth

and picking up yesterday's laundry

still languishing anonymously

in the rusted dryer.

Suddenly a sharp, crashing sound

and shards of glass are scattered about,

she must keep the baby away

from the pieces of the broken

tumbler,

given to her in inheritance

by her domineering long dead mother.

A nervous laugh escapes her lips,

'If only the matron could see her now',

down on her knees cautiously retrieving

remnants of a memory fast receding

into the annals of a bitter past.

A playful slap by the boy

and the baby's howl in reaction

brings her back to the present

where matters more pressing

are always claiming

her faltering, weary attention.

But as she gets off her cracking knees

and unbends her frozen back,

the room begins to spin round and round,

her heart begins to sink deep down

to the pit of her stomach where she knows

that she hasn't had a proper meal,

a wholesome nourishing meal,

for weeks.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Indifference

Max Ernst, The Forest, 1927

On every tree I hang-
as if in a Christmas ritual-
rugged landscapes of dreams
and starless nights.
To every tree I reveal
deep agonies and dark concerns
which the moon annihilates
in a single glance.

Hope unravels dusty scrolls
of ancient memories hovering,
quivering in a mirage
of an existence that seems unreal.
While Nature, indifferent as ever,
echoes nothing other
than a resounding silence.


Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Lorca's Lament

Triple portrait of Lorca by Salvador Dali

My love has flown away

on the black wing of an eagle

to pierce the blue mantle

of a Spanish sky.

Words have deserted me,

they have marched away

to the beat of a thousand drums

and the clash of swords.

The gleam of his naked pistol

and the sun's scorching rays

blinded me as I knelt

that sweltering summer's day

on flowering earth-

mother of all mothers

that gave birth to me.

They dragged me to the cemetery

to breathe my last broken sigh.

I am still searching for the mound

where my shattered bones lie.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Land of Filth

Heironymous Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights: Hell (right wing of triptych)

c. 1500

This is a land of filth,

filth that winds itself

like a creeper around every heart

and hides- a poisonous snake,

deep inside where

trees have rotten roots

and apples fall, weak

and forever stained;

where flowers die

since no beauty thrives

and the sky offers no apologies

for mirroring

a corrupted earth.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Poem- Earth Persona

Max Ernst, 'Max Ernst showing a young girl the head of his father'

Crouch, unbend.

Turn the lights out on a wasted day.

Dipping stale bread in copper rum,

leave me here by this river

since your love's agony will never end.

Will the sun condescend

to heal bruised crops

and thin rivulets of blood

pumping iron molecules

in an old myth of Sisyphus?

Prayers, mantras and chants.

Take a knife's blunted years

and unleash them

to the hot, arid winds.

Zaina Anwar 2010

Musings..

Skull cracks.

Scalp tears.

There is a music drone in my head.

I am slowly fading away

into a fiery ether.