#208: Love Poems + Zines I made + October Earworms
"To be here is immense." -Rainer Maria Rilke
Hello dear reader,
I know Diwali’s over, but here’s wishing you love and light in your life. I’ve been in a gentle-ish headspace, keeping myself busy with projects and floral dye experiments and setting up my online store so that more of you can get your hands on the zines and postcards I made earlier this month :)
Here’s a glimpse of some of the zines I’ve had a chance to dream up and manifest:
Poetry Corner
I’ve had no time in my life for reading or writing poetry of late. But I find love poems to be a source of constant comfort. Here are a few love poems I adore:
1. I'm really very fond by Alice Walker
I’m really very fond of you,
he said.
I don’t like fond.
It sounds like something
you would tell a dog.
Give me love,
or nothing.
Throw your fond in a pond,
I said.
But what I felt for him
was also warm, frisky,
moist-mouthed,
eager,
and could swim away
if forced to do so.
2. From the Plane by Anne Marie Macari
It is a soft thing, it has been sifted
from the sieve of space and seems
asleep there under the moths of light.
Cluster of dust and fire, from up here
you are a stranger and I am dropping
through the funnel of air to meet you.
3. What Luck by Suzanne O’Connell
Somebody ran out on somebody.
Someone drank too much.
Over there, an unkind word.
In that kitchen, a knife drawer opens
or a bruise blooms on a neck.
At the shore, a freak wave is forming.
But tonight,
in the blue TV glow,
our dog lies between us.
The fire that could have started
in the old wires, didn’t.
The errant cells
didn’t color outside their lines.
Tonight, that peculiar wave
didn’t crest in our direction.
Tonight my toes touch your toes
as we watch cars crash together
on the nine o’clock news.
4. When You Come by Maya Angelou
When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I CRY.
5. History of Pleasure by Richie Hofmann
I walked by myself to the market
past ruins with broken
bodies of stone, where even
a fragment of a man could undo me.
I bought herbs wrapped in paper.
Light shone through the glass of our apartment.
You had been showering,
the smell of mint invaded the room, your hair was wet.
Recommended Listening
A few songs I’ve been looping:
Also, I’ve been contemplating saving up and gifting myself some good portable speakers for Christmas. Any recommendations would be welcome!
Poetry Workshop Alert (Kolkata)
It’s been a while since I hosted a poetry workshop. But I’m excited to head home and meet all my fellow poets and aspiring wordsmiths at Roastery Coffee House on 31st October, 5pm. We’ll read aloud poems that shake our soul, write poems together for the joy of words, and drink some delish coffee and write verses about that too.
DM @roasterycoffeehouseindia to sign up. See you there!
No links this week because I’ve not had any time or energy to browse the Internet. But here’s a parting thought and a hug ^ for you:
“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.”
-Henry Miller
Here’s to October ending (phew) and the nights getting colder!
Love,
Rohini
♥️
Oof, thank you for these song recs. I was in need of some new juice.
Cheers! <3