Author: Mumtaz N K
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Schezerade
Are raconteurs good wives? Consider the thousand tales Each she carefully spun To satiate a sadist’s hunger. Call it a web of deceit! Yet, never let your eyes sway from The sword that had killed his previous wives. A Bluebeard of sorts Had married her out of curiosity Wondering if women were fallen! Yet, she…
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Shunyata- Nothingness
#atensyllabledDecima #ArtoonsInnPoetryParlour Shunyata/Nothingness Nothing was there, to nothing we return. Seek the ever unfolding horizon; All’s a mirage, life’s naught but illusion. Each being walks the forking path to turn, Moulting skin, physical debris- to learn What has been unlearnt! minds often play truants, Succumbing to daemons of flesh- the wants. Souls wither, they wilt,…
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Smothering with Love
May 21 Another day, perhaps, another week Weakness has set in, my mind’s in a tizzy Buckets to clear away nausea, I can’t for the life of me believe I’m a mom-to-be. My eyes shine And I can only reminisce Another day when my Mother told me in a rather Shy way, she too felt…
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Sita's Plea
Sita poured her heart out To the silent trunks and endless trees “If nature were my lover I’d sing about no city, No paens, I’d write about its glory. Fear no ridicule, Neither would I cringe at mockery I’d rush into its serene embrace And trail through shadowy trees. Into the balmy forest laden with…
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Dull Sundays
#NaProWriMo21 #Day5 # haiku & couplet dull Sundays offer, creased bedsheets, scattered blankets, stale cigarette smoke. *** messy counterpanes, yellowed spillage; wine glasses, greasy plates, ashtrays, and curry coated bowls smelly and sleazy. *** Mumtaz N Khorakiwala (Batool Idrish Siamwala) 5-4-2021 Picture courtesy: Brooke Lark unsplash.com
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Haiku
#NaProWriMo21 #babysteps #day3 a mother’s love glows baby steps fumble, childhood journeys shape bold dreams *** Mumtaz N Khorakiwala (Batool Idrish Siamwala) 4-3-21 Picture courtesy: Jordan Christian unsplash.com
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Soul Searching
#Naprowrimo21 #Day4 Fatema, Azra, Aasia, Marium and Batool Realised the power of prayers They invoked in tears, earnestly the Divine And were lit by pure light, heavenly. In bleak nights, they glowed Like fireflies and effervescent stars Shining in distant prussian blue skies, And lit up many desolate deserted homes. Soulful prayers shake sleepy gods…
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Bridges
#Naprowrimo21 #Day1 To Scarlett, Rhet Butler and Ashley And to Nanny, who tightened Scarlett’s corset To the likes of Gerald O’ Hara, and his many pale-skinned Daughters, who were flooded with beaus. To plantations, picnics, belles and notoriety that’s faded. How can these have possibly Gone With Wind? **** Are the draughts of wind so…
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Humility
#naprowrimo #2nd April entree “Thank you”, my heart sang, In a deep sense of gratitude. As I sat watching the mighty waves, Rising slowly cresent- like, into a crest And then bending gracefully Like the palm frond, Then the roaring surf, thundered The pounding surf, then resounded And the crashing surf, foamed Breaking, attthe golden…
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Routines
Scratched notepads, hurriedly inked shopping checklists, Often diverting into a frenzied attempt to doodling, Stick on notes placed haphazardly on cupboards and mirrors, Reminders notes–hash tagged, a scribbled unfinished poem On a yellowed envelope… My essence spilling out onto paper,is what’s left of me. **** Chores marked in diaries holding A forgotten rose pressed long…
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Touch-Me-Not
#Poattic-7 A touch-me-not shies away from feel, Should a woman do so too? Is that why she’s named Lajwanti? Lajjo, she’s called by dear ones, Who abandon her, when she becomes unchaste, Merely because prying lusful eyes have combed her being, Or a rough touch invades her body. Perhaps, her silence speaks like a river…
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Solitude
What’s solitude, but a bud opening to morning breeze, What’s solitude, but a flower dancing to breeze. What’s solitude, if not a moment of pleasure and ease! What’s solitude but a moment without care? What’s solitude if the petals aren’t in leisure teased? What’s solitude, if not – wafting sweet scents timely seized! What’s solitude,…
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Blueberry Woman
#Poattic-7 Let them all turn blue For once, she’d all mighty Gods shew With her awakening -all myths, Legends and folk tales- would die. These till now did rule and preside From whence women emerged weak And in shame tipped down a biased scale… None would cower, from a striated life. *** Helen held hands…
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In Bits and Pieces I Exist…
#Poattic-7 In bits and pieces I exist. My excellence is attributed to a parent, My attitude to another parental house At the base of my cup of existence Lie dregs of doubt. A muddy mixture Of miscegenation, races, time and breed. I wonder who I am? Probably, just another lineage Line drawn, tacked with inheritances…