Daughter

My friend suggested the words Princess and Daughter for my next poem. Here it goes:

Daughter

I am the daughter,

Of wind and rain,

I carry, I protect,

I nurture, I sustain.

I am the daughter,

Of mountains high,

I stand guard,

To defend and spy.

I am the daughter,

Of sand and soil,

Ingrained in me,

is their spirit of toil.

I am the daughter,

Of the deep ocean,

A treasure of secrets,

Of pasts forgiven.

I am the daughter,

Of this weary earth,

Cut and tilled,

A grieving heart.

I am the daughter,

Of a woman's love,

“My princess, my dove!”

A mother's touch.

Uncut

Rocks, crystals,

lattices, lines,

hardness, lustre,

colour, structure.

Sedimentation,

Compression,

Composition,

Manifestation.

Drawing, sketching,

Carbon-dating,

Remote sensing,

Engineering.

A study in progress,

A passion for geology,

The test of mettle,

Of rocks and minds.

In my right palm,

A piece of quartz,

weathered, veined,

aged, colourless.

Through a field glass,

I look at the veins,

A life of their own,

Like those of my palm.

I test the hardness,

With a tiny blade,

It's just a mark:

My own memory.

The blade moves:

Another vein,

Leaves a mark:

My own memory.

Commotion,

Question,

Expression,

Exclamation!

The line's red,

A hint of pain,

I try hard to hide,

My sense of pride.

Bullied, beaten,

Troubled, tortured,

My soul's uncut,

Like hard quartz.

Scarred: Acrylic, paper fibres and oil crayon on canvas

Saudade

Once again, I asked friends on Facebook to suggest some words I could work with. They came up with permaculture, fire, apricate, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, eloquence and saudade. Here's the poem:

Saudade


A parched land,

The high sun,

Strewn rocks,

Lizards apricate.

A thirsty man,

His leathery skin,

His lined face,

His hobbling gait.

He looks around,

This waste of a land,

Once so fertile,

Now dried to sand.

The man sits down,

On a baking boulder,

Closes his eyes,

Sees himself younger.

Strong-willed,

Stronger body,

A man of wisdom,

A man of eloquence.

“Sustainability,

agriculture,

irrigation,

permaculture.”

The unsmiling audience:

A board of bureaucrats.

They grimace and shrug,

“It's utter nonsense!”

“It's atrocious,

like that word,

supercalifragilistic-

expialidocious!”

Campaigns, protests,

lawsuits, petitions,

strikes, prisons,

displaced persons.

The dam's built,

The forest cleared,

Fire and ash,

There's no guilt.

A hot wind,

The man stirs,

His gaze blank,

His saudade.

Mariam's World: Diet

Silence

Like the wind sweeps away

The darkest clouds,

Like the sun rises

And ends the night,

Like gentle dew drops

On dry blades of grass,

Like how rain relieves

The parched, cracked earth,

Your words soothe

my troubled soul.

Your songs calm

my restless mind.

Your stories stir

my infinite imagination.

This long pause

in our conversation:

My soundless voice,

your deaf ears,

And your silence

O, your silence!

Chisels my wasted heart

Smothers my inspiration

Blanks my mind

Kills my songs.

https://soundcloud.com/eishasarkar/silence

Deep ocean: Acrylic on canvas

Fire in the mountain: Acrylic on canvas

A Goalie's Dilemma!

A sea of blue,

A swathe of white,

The field is set,

I stay by the net.

Chants and cheers,

Jibes and sneers,

Attackers, defenders,

Referees, scorers.

My gloved hands,

My throbbing veins,

I feel the tension,

A nation waits.

Even scores, one-all,

The referees called out,

“Let the ball roll.

A penalty shoot-out!”

The man in blue,

Takes his time,

Judges my position,

My discomfiture.

This game of soccer,

A game of reactions,

A game of emotions,

A game of passions.

My eyes widen,

Try to focus,

A nation watches,

A moment stops.

I watch the ball,

It's hard to judge,

Left or right,

I have to decide.

I lunge in the air,

My arm stretched,

My head tilts,

The fans gasp.

Rubber meets rubber,

A thump, a thud,

The ball disappears,

The crowd explodes.

My mouth opens,

Relieved, I shout,

A goal I've saved,

My pride salvaged!

Meeting

Conversations, discussions,

Explanations, exclamations!

'Wow's and 'how's,

'Ah's and 'Ouch's!

Propositions, questions,

Meetings, meanderings,

Quotes and quotations,

Powerpoint presentations!

Focus and tangent,

Means and medians,

Profits and losses,

Partners and competition!

Raised eyebrows,

Twitchy noses,

Stained coffee mugs,

Bored expressions!

Imprint: Acrylic on canvas

For this exercise, my art teacher brought all kinds of pods so that we could either paint what we saw or what we chose to see. I imagined what the impression of a pod would be on the earth's surface and painted this piece in acrylic on canvas.

A Woman

A woman in love
A woman to behold
A beautiful woman
A woman's soul!

A woman scorned,
A woman torn
A hurt woman
A woman's shame?

A woman worshipped
A woman revered
A powerful woman
A woman's name!

A woman touched
A woman admired
A spirited woman
A woman's, gold!

Cancer

The crab’s claws clasp together,
A little cell grows larger,
First divides, then multiplies,
A gene mutates, a code destroyed.

Petulant, pugnacious,
Willing for freedom,
A fight for freewill,
Metamorphosis, metastasis.

And so the tumour tells me,
"Dude, it's not what you see,
You'll slash, burn or poison me,
But I shall be back and claim thee."

Such betrayal, my own body,
“How could you do this to me?”
Radiation, chemotherapy,
I lose hair, I worry.

Friends, family pray for me,
Say things to soothe me,
If only I had a remedy,
Would cancer get me?

Then my body strikes back,
Stops the cancer in its track,
The tumours shrink and wither
Soon, I shall fully recover.

Sunsets: Acrylic and oil crayon on canvas

I could get used to you

I could talk with you,

My voice, your ears.

I could write you a story,

My words, your wisdom.

I could dance with you,

My grace, your strength.

I could sing you a song,

My lyrics, your tune.

I could shop with you,

My choice, your wealth.

I could wait for you,

My irritation, your patience.

I could fight with you,

My attack, your defence.

I could paint you a picture,

My colours, your vision.

I could laugh with you,

My jokes, your dimples.

I could get used to you,

And it's not a nice thing.