ShortcArt by Igor Baskin
ShortcArt: 'Poetry of Shortcuts and Headlines'
project by Igor Baskin
Media reports on disclosure of military conspiracy in Germany
2018.11.11 | Riga News
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Jack Scott writes
Ratios
Small flowers often hide
in the shade of larger ones
seeking safety more than sun.
Small fishes cavort bravely
in the shadow of the shark
at home beneath his notice.
Small passions avoid
the problems of the larger
by setting their own thermostat.
Some small persons
reach up for any hand,
orphaned by their helplessness.
Entourage -- Jen Richards
Small flowers often hide
in the shade of larger ones
seeking safety more than sun.
Small fishes cavort bravely
in the shadow of the shark
at home beneath his notice.
Small passions avoid
the problems of the larger
by setting their own thermostat.
Some small persons
reach up for any hand,
orphaned by their helplessness.
Entourage -- Jen Richards
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari (1)
(First Draft.)
Author's note: I have tried
to catch/net in poetic ellipsis what cannot ever be trapped so, especially only
by words. Only poetry can even try! This
poem, composed of these poems, is thus indirect and only tries to invoke, inside
one, the sweetness of the experience of a rare transcendence given to a rare, fortunate few on earth to experience, that
too, only for a brief while....
The Grecians had three or
nine Muses but I think I have only one or ten.
Prologue or Invocation to the
three Kharites
Euthymia (2), my love
be always at my right
Thalia (3), be my sole clear light
Aglaea (4), at the centre of my blight
remove this slight stain fallen on my poor sight
May my heart revive with the strength drawn
from your old world of graces
& charities
and I again troth my one dear plight
to my triage of quality: steadfastness bright
persisting, perforce perseveringly
& enduring; all my heart's true delight.
be always at my right
Thalia (3), be my sole clear light
Aglaea (4), at the centre of my blight
remove this slight stain fallen on my poor sight
May my heart revive with the strength drawn
from your old world of graces
& charities
and I again troth my one dear plight
to my triage of quality: steadfastness bright
persisting, perforce perseveringly
& enduring; all my heart's true delight.
(1) Dream
Beauty.
(2) Euthymia is a normal non-depressed, reasonably positive mood. Jollity. One of the three Graces or Charities. More popularly known as Euphrosyne. Grecian in origin but also Latin and Western/Christian. My graces or charities or Muses are Indian, both Christian and Hindu. They are the three facets of truth , namely steadfastness, persevarence/persistence and endurance that lead to victory. Sathyamevajayathe..
(3) Thalia - Festivity, rich banquet, flourishing
(4) Aglaea - also Charis, the most beautiful of the three, meaning splendour or glory.
(2) Euthymia is a normal non-depressed, reasonably positive mood. Jollity. One of the three Graces or Charities. More popularly known as Euphrosyne. Grecian in origin but also Latin and Western/Christian. My graces or charities or Muses are Indian, both Christian and Hindu. They are the three facets of truth , namely steadfastness, persevarence/persistence and endurance that lead to victory. Sathyamevajayathe..
(3) Thalia - Festivity, rich banquet, flourishing
(4) Aglaea - also Charis, the most beautiful of the three, meaning splendour or glory.
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
(First Draft.)
In the first place
We were stretched out on the
grass of
Kodappanakunnu palace
This was Thiruvananthapuram, in my early days -
on a tree was a van and the van had a drum -
during Rose Day (5) times
your head cradled on my bosom
and you asked me
who are you?
I am a genius, I said
The people who were passing by looked at me
and thought I was mad
talking to myself
No one ever saw you
with me, in those days
but you were the one always
driving me on
hanging over my shoulder
reading what I wrote first
before the ink dried on the paper
my muse
and though you called me Don Quixote
Kodappanakunnu palace
This was Thiruvananthapuram, in my early days -
on a tree was a van and the van had a drum -
during Rose Day (5) times
your head cradled on my bosom
and you asked me
who are you?
I am a genius, I said
The people who were passing by looked at me
and thought I was mad
talking to myself
No one ever saw you
with me, in those days
but you were the one always
driving me on
hanging over my shoulder
reading what I wrote first
before the ink dried on the paper
my muse
and though you called me Don Quixote
you believed in me
And then I told you
that I would be mistaken for a love poet and Romantic
but the deeper layers would be there
They dig for them only if you come from
UK or USA
I ended
and you looked solemn for just a second
but we were both young
and you too were only growing up, still, actually
somewhere else in Kerala or Calcutta or Delhi or Dum Dum
Fate had not zeroed in on where exactly you came from
and we had no time
to waste
on grief
except what the world gave us
that we could not escape
like, for me, by my sister's death.
And then I told you
that I would be mistaken for a love poet and Romantic
but the deeper layers would be there
They dig for them only if you come from
UK or USA
I ended
and you looked solemn for just a second
but we were both young
and you too were only growing up, still, actually
somewhere else in Kerala or Calcutta or Delhi or Dum Dum
Fate had not zeroed in on where exactly you came from
and we had no time
to waste
on grief
except what the world gave us
that we could not escape
like, for me, by my sister's death.
(5) Rose Day was a popular event in TVM. (Thiruvananthapuram, or Trivandrum, the capital of Kerala). The best one in my memory was held at Kodpapannakunnu palace.
Visions of Quixote -- Octavio Ocampo
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
(First Draft.)
Sri Lanka
If you had seen with me
the bombed, shattered glass front of the Esplanade
or those boys with guns in their hands (6)
in Colombo
perhaps we would have rushed back to the hotel
and made frantic love
the bombed, shattered glass front of the Esplanade
or those boys with guns in their hands (6)
in Colombo
perhaps we would have rushed back to the hotel
and made frantic love
to overcome the sight
but you were not there.
but you were not there.
(6) Refers to the time of the Sinhalese/Tamil civil war.
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
(First Draft.)
Oslo, Norway
Orange Street (7) was playing in town.
You were not there
I searched for you
in the streets of the city
and even in the community
(First Draft.)
Oslo, Norway
Orange Street (7) was playing in town.
You were not there
I searched for you
in the streets of the city
and even in the community
the conference centre
of the sect or cult
Once I almost found you
wearing high leather boots I
loved
But it was not you
The fields were beautiful
The fields were beautiful
the skies heavenly
and at midnight it was
bright as noon!
Saw an old house
the bed large and empty
grass on it
and at midnight it was
bright as noon!
Saw an old house
the bed large and empty
grass on it
saw cable-cars and trams
The sun shone through the windows in the middle of every night
making it all seem what it was, dream like...
but that piece of the heart that was
broken off, missing
given for you and for many
was still not being eaten, being drunk
Love of God
Love of country
Love of a virgin
Love of spirituality
Nothing quite makes up for
that little bit of blood dribbling
out of the corner of one's longing mouth
because one has a bit of the heart, lost
aching, looking for
what it could never find
as it was not meant to search for it, from the start
but only was to let itself be found.
The sun shone through the windows in the middle of every night
making it all seem what it was, dream like...
but that piece of the heart that was
broken off, missing
given for you and for many
was still not being eaten, being drunk
Love of God
Love of country
Love of a virgin
Love of spirituality
Nothing quite makes up for
that little bit of blood dribbling
out of the corner of one's longing mouth
because one has a bit of the heart, lost
aching, looking for
what it could never find
as it was not meant to search for it, from the start
but only was to let itself be found.
A View Down Akersgate, Oslo -- William H. Johnson
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
(First Draft.)
Kollam
In Quilon you receded into
the shadows
I met you only at the crowded bus-stops
checking out the magazines that had Shakeela(8) on the cover
and condoms of different flavours from abroad
and one day you were a pretty foreigner
wearing a tiger skin top and shorts, legs showing
lovely and rather bare breasted
reminding me of karadi kali,
I met you only at the crowded bus-stops
checking out the magazines that had Shakeela(8) on the cover
and condoms of different flavours from abroad
and one day you were a pretty foreigner
wearing a tiger skin top and shorts, legs showing
lovely and rather bare breasted
reminding me of karadi kali,
We were both on our long
distance government run red and yellow buses
You got down, having overshot
and said .."these kind of things always happen only to me"
The ganja scene by then having shifted to Varkala from Kovalam (9)
You got down, having overshot
and said .."these kind of things always happen only to me"
The ganja scene by then having shifted to Varkala from Kovalam (9)
Those days, you never spoke to me
and I never wrote poetry
and I never wrote poetry
Only masturbated thinking of
you
Seems I was finished,
you had moved on
I had Jesus left for company
Seems I was finished,
you had moved on
I had Jesus left for company
Jesus who was always there
Kollam did nothing for what
was brewing
Between you and me
Seemingly
Which was immortal and nameless
And explosive
Should I call it the iron age, or bronze, brass, lead or gold?
Between you and me
Seemingly
Which was immortal and nameless
And explosive
Should I call it the iron age, or bronze, brass, lead or gold?
(8) Malayali soft porn actress and starlet.
(9) Referring to the hippie scene.
La Commedia Illumina Firenze -- Domenico di Michelino
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
Bangalore
a) Epistemology
You were Nature first
and then the influence of my mother
You whispered sweet nothings in my ear
and every time you made me your channel
it was nothing but girl; all woman power
I realized the pattern was not created by me
The third time you wore the face of death(10)
but then I searched for you anxiously in face after face
and then the influence of my mother
You whispered sweet nothings in my ear
and every time you made me your channel
it was nothing but girl; all woman power
I realized the pattern was not created by me
The third time you wore the face of death(10)
but then I searched for you anxiously in face after face
Each face holding a piece of
the puzzle
But never matching or making the whole
Only hints and clues and life no Holmes
Or Watson but the search goes on in the bones and marrow
In the blood and joints and in the subterranean fields unborn
But never matching or making the whole
Only hints and clues and life no Holmes
Or Watson but the search goes on in the bones and marrow
In the blood and joints and in the subterranean fields unborn
Found three or four almost matching
or five, six or seven -
Each time the fix was not yet the right mix
When you are an addict you keep playing with the doses
trying, against all hope, to get hold of the purest
Each time the fix was not yet the right mix
When you are an addict you keep playing with the doses
trying, against all hope, to get hold of the purest
b) Second coming.
Bangalore was the place for
hardcore junkies like me
I almost found you in it. My veins were easy to find.
I did not need a rubber to make them stand out, unlike Jeet
The stuff went in through my eyes and I od'd
Chemical romance gives rise to beautiful visions
I almost found you in it. My veins were easy to find.
I did not need a rubber to make them stand out, unlike Jeet
The stuff went in through my eyes and I od'd
Chemical romance gives rise to beautiful visions
I had Renaissance on my mind
in those days
Dante, Florence, Italy, Milan, Naples, gondolas, Venice, Beatrice
Rome? - it could not hold a candle to your nipples
outlined against the thin fabric of your striped shirt
You were young and stylish then and no film star could match
you, in your new avatar
the you from whom I stole nothing
except two kisses
but on a beach in Libya
I had to write your swan song
after staying away from you in Jeddah
Dante, Florence, Italy, Milan, Naples, gondolas, Venice, Beatrice
Rome? - it could not hold a candle to your nipples
outlined against the thin fabric of your striped shirt
You were young and stylish then and no film star could match
you, in your new avatar
the you from whom I stole nothing
except two kisses
but on a beach in Libya
I had to write your swan song
after staying away from you in Jeddah
Marriage took you away
or was it just that you grew old
or was it just that you grew old
mature and suddenly realized
poems and people are not telephone calls
poems and people are not telephone calls
You did not die, you always
returned
in the advancing nights
as someone else, being sought
like those flocks of rain birds
that in formation would fly
across foreign skies
near the beach opposite Malta, across the deep blue Mediterranean
while I grieved for the light of family, friends and missing or dead/dying muses
stranded, far away from me
In Bangalore - dark and bright.
in the advancing nights
as someone else, being sought
like those flocks of rain birds
that in formation would fly
across foreign skies
near the beach opposite Malta, across the deep blue Mediterranean
while I grieved for the light of family, friends and missing or dead/dying muses
stranded, far away from me
In Bangalore - dark and bright.
(10)
Refers to my sister Tina's death. She was seven months old and I ten and I
wrote a lot of poems to get out of the anger I felt at life or God or science
then. She is also referred to in the last line of the section "The first
place."
The Addict -- Rupali Motihar
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
(First Draft.)
Jeddah
Was it when standing by the
low granite wall
bordering the Red Sea
watching the sun set
orange
with my friends and beloved family
and hearing the waves lap gently against the shore
or sitting on the floor alone
after they had left
in my room
with only the naked tubelight and the internet for company
that I knew
I would never be able to escape my only strength and weakness
you, yakshi and devatha
as without you
I could not write
poetry
having nothing and no one else to turn to
to inspire me
always, again and again
afresh and anew
bordering the Red Sea
watching the sun set
orange
with my friends and beloved family
and hearing the waves lap gently against the shore
or sitting on the floor alone
after they had left
in my room
with only the naked tubelight and the internet for company
that I knew
I would never be able to escape my only strength and weakness
you, yakshi and devatha
as without you
I could not write
poetry
having nothing and no one else to turn to
to inspire me
always, again and again
afresh and anew
Street in Old Jeddah [two views] -- Spencer W. Tart
A. V. Koshy redux
Swapna Sundari
(First Draft.)
Tigermoth -- Josephine Moth
(First Draft.)
Turkey: An Interlude:
Internal Realism/ Flight Stop-over/Turkish Delight
It was not about Istiklal Cadessi's (11)
meaning
or the ideas behind 'cold turkey'
or having no turkey for Christmas day
or the ideas behind 'cold turkey'
or having no turkey for Christmas day
Beethoven interpreted by my
friend
Turkish percussion used in the ninth
suggesting the possibility of living together in peace
It was not that interpretant, either!
Turkish percussion used in the ninth
suggesting the possibility of living together in peace
It was not that interpretant, either!
It was at the point of the
theatre backdrop
being rolled in my life away from Jeddah to Tripoli
in the darkness, with a rumble in the wings
as Eliot said, while the children wait excited
for Act two, three or four to begin
and Freedom Ave. was the right intersection
as a setting for me to find Nabokov's lepidopterist's shop
being rolled in my life away from Jeddah to Tripoli
in the darkness, with a rumble in the wings
as Eliot said, while the children wait excited
for Act two, three or four to begin
and Freedom Ave. was the right intersection
as a setting for me to find Nabokov's lepidopterist's shop
Where you gave me a butterfly
-
referring back to three or four attempts, to write a story
and to another flash fiction -
the Tiger Moth (12) from Kerala
and I did not have to pay for it
though it was a magic shop
referring back to three or four attempts, to write a story
and to another flash fiction -
the Tiger Moth (12) from Kerala
and I did not have to pay for it
though it was a magic shop
It was no longer the time of
magical realism
but we still let it go free
and you never gave me any other
and you never were a nymphet
though I was the non-native English Professor
magical realism
but we still let it go free
and you never gave me any other
and you never were a nymphet
though I was the non-native English Professor
One, you said was enough for
me
As for me, honey, I am still paying the fee
As for me, honey, I am still paying the fee
(11)
İstiklal Avenue or Istiklal Street (Turkish: İstiklâl Caddesi, French: Grande
Rue de Péra, English: Independence Avenue) is one of the most famous avenues in
Istanbul, Turkey, visited by nearly 3 million people in a single day over the
course of weekends. Located in the historic Beyoğlu (Pera) district, it is an
elegant pedestrian street, 1.4 kilometers long, which houses boutiques, music
stores, bookstores, art galleries, cinemas, theatres, libraries, cafés, pubs,
night clubs with live music, historical patisseries, chocolateries and
restaurants.
(12) Long flight to mate, and then dies immediately. Tigermoth -- Josephine Moth
Saturday, June 29, 2019
Brian Rihlmann writes
THE SOPHIST
in the daytime melodrama
of my imagination
you appear frequently
like a Shakespearean device
a witch or a madwoman
whispering asides to the audience
acting as the mouthpiece
of the protagonist’s doubts
about the validity
of his selfspun myth
his reasons and excuses
the words on your lips
are straight from the shadowed corners
and crevices of his soul
maddening in their cruelty
and truth
onstage
he slays your arguments
with superior rhetoric
whittles them down
to useless nubs
as you slink away
but soon return
with newfound confidence
and a knowing smile
like a Shakespearean device
a witch or a madwoman
whispering asides to the audience
acting as the mouthpiece
of the protagonist’s doubts
about the validity
of his selfspun myth
his reasons and excuses
the words on your lips
are straight from the shadowed corners
and crevices of his soul
maddening in their cruelty
and truth
onstage
he slays your arguments
with superior rhetoric
whittles them down
to useless nubs
as you slink away
but soon return
with newfound confidence
and a knowing smile
The Sophist -- Richard T. Scott
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)