Seaside

The waves come running to you,
happy to see you.
Eager to present you with a gift they dug up,
from the bottom of the seabed.
They come again and again,
in an attempt to appease.
The wind tugs,
like and impatient child,
at your hair, your clothes.
Wanting something,
not quite sure what.
The sticky feeling of salty air,
the burning sunshine.
Warm sand thats intrusive,
and likes the hide in unlikely places.

Sea gulls in mid air,
frozen still in their attempts to fly.
Lazy gulls that fly but dont flap,
come close,
looking out beadily for crumbs.
Static gulls, posing for perfect photos,
suspended mid-gust.

Children with spades and buckets, digging.
Building castles, being taught to write names in sand.
Babies toddling around, dropping and getting up unhurt,
wading into water and returning with soggy nappies.
Old people with books, hats and suncream,
young people with music and fashionable swimgear.

Endless white sand and green water,
long lazy walks,
with sand between your toes,
and sea shelss in your hand,
eyes scrunched up against the sand,
hair messed with the wind,
and a smile...

Kabul

As part of the work that I do and am involved with I have a deep interest in the women in Afghanistan, specially so Kabul. The stories of buzkashi and kite flying have been shown in popular culture..but I have been looking for more personal stories..I dont know why, but there is something about a nation in conflict, of rulers and dictators, beauty and cruelty, mountains and poppy fields..something stark, raw, wild yet beautiful.

I came across this poem (from which Khaled Hosseini found the title of his new book) - Its called - Kabul, by Saib-e-Tabrizi, a 17th century Persian poet.

Though somethings get lost in translation..i describes achingly well..the city that was, and his love for it..


Ah! How beautiful is Kabul encircled by her arid mountains
And Rose, of the trails of thorns she envies
Her gusts of powdered soil, slightly sting my eyes
But I love her, for knowing and loving are born of this same dust

My song exhalts her dazzling tulips
And at the beauty of her trees, I blush
How sparkling the water flows from Pul-I-Bastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!

Khizr chose the path to Kabul in order to reach Paradise
For her mountains brought him close to the delights of heaven
From the fort with sprawling walls, A Dragon of protection
Each stone is there more precious than the treasure of Shayagan

Every street of Kabul is enthralling to the eye
Through the bazaars, caravans of Egypt pass
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls

Her laughter of mornings has the gaiety of flowers
Her nights of darkness, the reflections of lustrous hair
Her melodious nightingales, with passion sing their songs
Ardent tunes, as leaves enflamed, cascading from their throats

And I, I sing in the gardens of Jahanara, of Sharbara
And even the trumpets of heaven envy their green pastures

Flooded with poetry

I see no real reason but I seem to have gone into poetry recall..from those I learnt at primary school to those I read in Eric Segal many years later. I can recall Kukuburra sits on the old Gum Tree and the amazing memoirs of a traveller, who saw stone trunks - Ozymandias and then there was Edward Lear's - the Owl and the Pussycat. There is of course Abu Ben Adam, and the one that comes to mind every early spring in England, when the Daffodils come out and William Wordsworth's words are visible everywhere.
They just seem to come flooding in right now, poems, rhymes, thoughts that start from a piece of literature I read a long time ago. It got triggered by watching Mira Nair's 'Namesake' where Tabu quotes Wordsworth, and continued by thinking about the lines Oliver says to Jenny in the Love Story ~ Eric Segal at his best,

"When our two souls stand up erect and strong
"Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher
"Until the lengthening wings break into fire at either curved point,
"What bitter wrong can the earth do to us
"That we should not long be here contented?
"Think! In mounting higher, the angels would press on us
"And aspire to drop some golden orb of perfect song
"lnto our deep, dear silence
"Let us stay rather on earth, Beloved,
"Where the unfit contrarious moods of men recoil away
"And isolate pure spirits
"And permit a place to stand and love in for a day
"With darkness and the death-hour rounding it."
"l give you my hand!
"l give you my love more precious than money
"l give you myself before preaching or law
"Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel with me?
"Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?"

Of course she says yes!!

Phew!! that piece was stuck in my mind and I had to Google it and get it out of my system tonight, or I would have been wandering around repeating the two lines that had come to mind..there is something to be said about poetry...its like a smell, reminds you always of what you initially thought and felt when you read it. It has an ability to recall more than just words...thank heavens for an ICSE system which did at that time (long time ago) laid emphasis on poetry and drama and prose...