In his eyes
reconstructed,
brought back to life-
my mind is moving
again.
Zaina Anwar 2011
27 January 2011
26 January 2011
24 January 2011
23 January 2011
Poem- Fragment XI
All walls are empty
except for the shadows
where my paintings used to hang.
Zaina Anwar 2011
20 January 2011
Poem- The Eternity of an Ocean
Wassily Kandinsky, Transverse Line, 1923
I waded through mud
and brambles to reach the shore.
But once I felt the water
and cold twilight foam,
my bruises faded like the last
specks of light
across a sky vanquished
by the moon.
I screamed.
And the voice came from deep within.
I heard echoes trailing down
deep crevasses in the immense
rock formations dotting
the coast.
I called out to him over and over again. Nothing
but the ceaseless sounds
of waves lapping away the sand
inch by inch
into the nameless depths
of eternity.
Zaina Anwar 2011
19 January 2011
Poem- Dreamscape IV, 'The Wolf and I'
My friend the wolf has an eye that can see beyond human existence. I have flung the putrefying melange that gave morbid strength to my reason against an empty sky. I have reversed my heart's atrophy due to anxiety and cruel expectations. I am no longer bound to my own laws.
My instinct, spurned to a deep recess all these years, has been revived. I have dragged it out into the open, preened silvery feathers, and taken a long biding oath.
*
Yellow leaves, dry and thin as paper, quiver against a turquoise sky. His icy breath has crept into my bones. He has walked away from me to die alone, deep in the forest in company of strange birds. I do not entertain hope. He will be snowed under soon... his blood will stain the roots of my favorite tree.
My wolf and I sit beneath a winter sky. When I shiver, his body gives me warmth. As memories begin to flow, he howls at the moon.
He is chasing stars in swirling constellations while I mourn.
My wolf and I sit beneath a winter sky. When I shiver, his body gives me warmth. As memories begin to flow, he howls at the moon.
He is chasing stars in swirling constellations while I mourn.
*
We have decided to follow the river to the end of time. I will collect rocks and study- not without envy- beautiful salmon burning with a purpose that cannot be explained and yet is reason enough for them to survive. The wolf will suck the life-juice out of cacti and point the way in the shadow of the North star.
And so I shall travel until the blisters on my feet erupt and heal again. I am on a journey without a destination, open to all possibilities of change and painful tangents. I shall walk until I have gleaned the ancient secret that glows in the eye of my wolf like the dying embers of a mystic fire.
Zaina Anwar 2011
And so I shall travel until the blisters on my feet erupt and heal again. I am on a journey without a destination, open to all possibilities of change and painful tangents. I shall walk until I have gleaned the ancient secret that glows in the eye of my wolf like the dying embers of a mystic fire.
Zaina Anwar 2011
14 January 2011
Poem- Fragmentation
He came to me
with hot caresses
and lilies and solemn
promises.
By the time he left,
my heart
was a broken mirror.
(First published in Poets Democracy)
13 January 2011
News
News
My poem, The Rain has appeared on The Camel Saloon. Do drop by. It's a great magazine where you'll find lots of interesting, mature poems. Thanks.
12 January 2011
Poem- On the Porch, a Death
A wind chime
and the first drops
of rain
pattering
on a tin roof.
The cat,
huddled in a corner,
moans to the wind
in protest
against the cold.
My grandmother
in a rocking chair,
her cigarette
falls to the floor.
"At last, her heart
is still, " whispers sadly,
the wind
to the moon.
Zaina Anwar 2011
10 January 2011
Poem- Insomnia
Through my window,
I can see
Venus flaunting herself
across the deep blue scroll
of the night sky.
I see the moon
perched nervously
on its throne
like a queen
newly crowned.
With every gust of wind,
the cat pricks her ears,
ready to spring.
She is aware
of my heart's sluggish beats.
In the silence of snow
and leaves turning brown,
we ponder,
my cat and I,
like little Buddhas
upon the night's
mystic
shadows.
Zaina Anwar 2011
08 January 2011
Not a poem but a thought..
An artist has no other choice but to live in his art. All other avenues are barren and steeped in the menacing shadow of despair.
-Zaina
Poem- Recuperation
in her womb, every time
she thinks of them.
She, wrapped in a violet
night, had opened tin cans
full of dead frogs floating
in turbid
formaldehyde.
She envisions white coats
fluttering around cadavers
splayed undignified
across steel tables.
And in an arched hallway,
an old woman pointing
with a crooked finger warned,
"You must leave this place."
She walked barefoot
across burning slabs of stone
to reach out to the world
for once.
She envisions white coats
fluttering around cadavers
splayed undignified
across steel tables.
And in an arched hallway,
an old woman pointing
with a crooked finger warned,
"You must leave this place."
She walked barefoot
across burning slabs of stone
to reach out to the world
for once.
She inhales fresh air and freedom.
She has banished
years of whiskey breath
from her memories
forever.
Zaina Anwar 2011
years of whiskey breath
from her memories
forever.
Zaina Anwar 2011
07 January 2011
Poem- Fragment X
Through the trees,
a sonorous wind
has picked up the scent
of pine cones
and crimson berries
soaked in the sun.
Zaina Anwar 2011
06 January 2011
Poem- The Glass House
Remedios Varo, Papilla Estelar, 1958
High up in the trees,
the wind can sway
an eagle's nest.
At night, the gentlest
dew drop
can tear
a lonely petal away.
At a crucial moment,
one wrong move
by the hunter
can scare
a rabbit into the bush.
Did you know
that the human heart
is made of glass?
The house has
shaky walls.
It can be shattered
by a single,
black
word.
Zaina Anwar 2011
Poem- The Mind's Eye
The idea is to see
with the mind's eye.
A holy eye
right in the middle
of the forehead.
(Moonbeams seep through
the window blinds. They
have come to pay
reverence.)
Magnificent eye!
Sacred eye!
Power of the mystic.
And the holy hour, since
the earth
is eclipsing
a weakened sun.
Zaina Anwar 2011
05 January 2011
Poem- The Musician
(To Damon Albarn)
His voice
gently carries
(glimpse of a trembling flame)
silver notes of woe
and a deep longing
for what is not,
for what might have been.
Zaina Anwar 2011
04 January 2011
03 January 2011
Poem- Fragment VIII
He steps into the room
brandishing his ego
like a mighty sword,
ready for an attack.
He talks, I listen.
All the while,
there are mountains
and rainbows in my mind.
Zaina Anwar 2011
02 January 2011
Poem- White Roses
Joan Miro, Ciphers and Constellations, in Love with a Woman, 1941
She has gathered her dreams and colored them
into paintings with gold and lapis strokes;
she has torn stars from the sky to pin them
like flowers to her sinuous braid.
Her path is strewn with petals of sweet jasmine
gleaming like pearls fresh from the ocean;
she holds her desire in a gold cup fringed
with shimmering crystals and fiery rubies.
His blood eddies into a passionate heart
drenched in rose water sweeter than honey,
unfolding itself like a sleeping lily
slowly waking to the light of a new dawn.
Together they lie beneath the ancient oak,
fanned by the warmth of butterflies' wings.
He holds her breath captive as he bends
to kiss her softly, by the white roses dancing
to the beat of the summer breeze.
Zaina Anwar 2011
01 January 2011
Poem- An Encounter in Love
Egon Schiele, Embrace Aka Lovers II
Love has a way
of seeking you out.
Amid trembling chandeliers
and lips in a florid mist
of red wine and roses,
he found her.
He felt himself
in her eyes
as she walked away
with his shuddering heart.
Zaina Anwar 2011
Poem- Fragment VII
Could it be that she deems it wise
to return my heart
in a state of utter disrepair?
The moon has shut its eyes
to my predicament.
The cat returns a thick,
blank stare.
Zaina Anwar 2011
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