Winter on my mind: Part II
The second instalment of The Alipore Post Journal December round-up
Dear reader,
The magic of winter and poetry continues, as the year draws to a close.
We’ve published a LOT of incredible winter poetry in The Alipore Post Journal this month after receiving 400+ submissions for our open call. We shared some of them in the first December round-up, and have lined up all the other published poems below.
Winter Poetry
Eternal Winter by Samadrita Ghosh
To me, the cold is warmer than the sun
For in the mountains of eternal winter
I found countless homes
But in one little shed by the valley,
I left myself and brought back a shell
So I could write about the mountains
Like I'll never touch the cold again
The fresh air, the moss
The gold in the leaves
And the never forgotten loss
These are the only places for me
Even if just on paper and prose
But the wind consoles me
And steals away my pieces
From the places I tread upon-
The frivolous cells of my skin
And the mist of my hesitant breath
Have become the cold sigh of the mountains
I am scattered like chaos. I am everywhereShapeshifter by Greeshma Gayathri
I could swear upon the dust gold –
two worlds met in those rocky grey valleys.
Far from home, far off, when the flap of prayer flags
against the endless blue ricocheted,
white cumuli mountains whirled to their wish. On
those red embered evenings, Beas would be a green slime
to match our canteen pond and the crushed copper pod
yellows on which we stood, unspooled
like fishes were paisleys, tailfins lopsided, leaping in
a little lesser truth
every time you finish with Delhi. And I too would see qawwalis
yet again, blinking easy into my cup.
After all, no spice is too much
for a Sulaimani.
Artwork by Willard LeRoy Metcalf December Haiku by Anam Tariq
A snow soft blanket
clasping an enchanting read
the winters are spent
.
.Murky winter night-
gazing at the veiled white moon
shadows shiver on glass pane.
.
A lightened market-
misty breath blends, I dream of
snowy winter festsArriving Shortly by K Srilata
When amma cameto New York city,
she wore unfashionably cut
salwar kurtas,
mostly in beige,
so as to blend in,
her body
a puzzle that was missing a piece -
the many sarees
she had left behind:
that peacock blue
Kanjeevaram,
that nondescript nylon in which she had raised
and survived me,
the stiff chikan saree
that had once held her up at work.
When amma came to
New York city,
an Indian friend
who swore by black
and leather,
remarked in a stage whisper,
“This is New York, you know –
not Madras.
Does she realise?”
Ten years later,
transiting through L.A airport
I find amma
all over again
in the uncles and aunties
who shuffle past the Air India counter
in their uneasily worn, unisex Bata sneakers,
suddenly brown in a white space,
louder than ever in their linguistic unease
as they look for quarters and payphones.
I catch the edge of amma’s saree
sticking out
like a malnourished fox’s tail
from underneath
some other woman’s sweater
meant really for Madras’ gentle Decembers.
Acuity by Petula D’Souza
How strange to my eyeis the tree
I brought home today;
Now
that it stands in a lonely corner
resembling nothing of its former self;
What do I see?
I seea dead tree ---
brightened by fairy lights
but weighed down
by assorted baubles;
Like a family gathered for a photograph---forced to smile
but still
hanging on.
How to stop crying by Shobhana Kumar*
From a leaf in Paati’s diary, 4.12.1943
Learn to stop them mid-way
like pranayama,
hold them until they brim
but not over.
Grow flowers.
You will see how fragility
can yield tenderness,
each petal, the result
of a trigger.
Pile them
like unwanted linen
in crevices
you don’t want to reach
easily.
Draw inspiration
from women
in remote desert villages
who learn to make do
without water
and sand their used vessels.
Rub that sand into wounds
over and over and over again
till wound meets blood
meets hurt
to that one point
when all pain ceases
into one shoreless
pulse.
Note
Repeat for best rest results
Pick the method most appropriate for different times
*This poem by Shobhana was published in Usawa Literary Review’s December issue. Read the other poems we loved by Ko Ko Thett, Siddharth Dasgupta, Ghassan Zaqtan, Lina Krishnan, Megha Sood and Murray Alfredson here.
Winter x Memory
Had the pleasure of picking seven lovely poems on Winter x Memory from all the winter submissions, like this delicate poem by Saumya Rai.
Winter is a memory by Saumya Rai
The winter wind carries,
The scent of night jasmine,
The moth balls that I buried with my sweaters,
And freezes flower petals I find beautiful.
It makes me try Maa's old tea recipe,
And find comfort in baba's blazers.
It takes me back to deep sleep and warmth,
And I revisit dreams I smiled at when I was little.
It makes me live in these memories,
I thought I forgot forever.
Featured poets:
Poems for December
A compilation of eight poems on December and winters from the poetry community, including this short and delightful poem by Tiyasha Chaudhury:
Resurrection by Tiyasha Chaudhury
This constant shivering that comes
as I watch the stars;
this aliveness in air, where else could I
search?
In this December breeze,
as each cell of my body breathes
as every inch of my body spikes up
how do I not smile
knowing what great pleasure living is.
Featured poets:
Vijay MaheshDas
Paroma
Happy New Year, everybody! And a big thank you to everyone who contributed to the journal this year. We’ll see you in the new year with more poetry, art and inspiration!
P.S. There’s still a lot of winter poems, photo series and art scheduled in the journal calendar and coming your way in January-February, so stay tuned.