poetry

They opened a window and their mouths they rinsed
And spilled on their anger-laughter and cries thus cleansed
And if they were in reach they’d have been beaten black n blue
Let my kites lose their path...

media_text

When we look back at Turkish women’s poetry of the Ottoman period, we also read an historical process. In Ottoman times, as it is known, women were not in the social arena at all. They could not be educated in...

media_text

(from a Malay Pantun)

The flying dove high above,
Perches a while on a dead tree;
Strike the water in a pail,

media_text

O the earth tribe

drums were played, doors were closed

in caravanserai

a candle, a loaf of bread, a dish of soup

and a sack of oat for the horse

in this courtyard...

media_text

After a war

I was captured

with the chains

like my braid

I came from the North

on a horseback

for booty

on the slave market

my sealed...

media_text

here you are faceless bobs
like flotsam in the strait narrow

sea scented with iridescent oil
radiating in rainbow swirl

as fin glistens before tell-tale lollipops
are sucked into the...

media_text

For the red leaf
I once plucked and then forgot
I will pull off this flower.
For the love trampled
Coming from that vulnerable leaf
Which I remember now and then,-
I will pull off this...

media_text

A million things come to my mind when I think of what’s in a name. As a Pakistani, everything is in a name. In Pakistan, if you happen to be named Zardari (the current President of Pakistan), you can rob a bank or a...

media_text

In the footsteps of my history
And shadow, I am caught
In the half light of remembering,
The house, the mouth,
The woman, whose cotton-coiled
Waist is the yearning for an India far...

media_text

My hands are two little antennas
which receive remote waves
distill and disseminate messages
generated and circulated by the brain.

My heart pounds and heaves
releases blood to brain and...

media_text

This time when I boarded the plane

to return to the US, I felt a peace with in,

a peace that had finally retuned to me

after twenty years.

This time, I...

media_text

Morning star: like a signal
To stop. In the hard air words venture, through night,
In sleep: somnambulists plan, on the wings of a cloud, bare,
Towards a cape

That sometimes disappears...

media_text