Ways of Reading Assignment - Shreeparna Chatterjee, MA (Literary Art)(First year)

- Poems on Historical/Mythological Characters :

By the fire

Standing by the fire, for what seems like

an exile’s worth of time,

I turn to the Maryada Purushottam.

 He’s standing there, his head hung low

as if looking at me would melt the

resolve of his barbaric request.

The fire burnt with a crackle

loud enough to shatter the

glass of our silence.

My love, my husband, I thought him my savior too.

Before I jumped

in the fire and put the

crowd’s burning desire

 to rest,

I asked my Rama;

                                                “Is this what you really want?”

The answer; a crackle of flames,

consuming the painful acceptance

of the crowd and the crown.

                                                            And to that tacit compliance,

                                                            I jumped.

Rosa Parks

He asked me to get up

And leave the seat empty

                                                In that moment, I looked

                                                up at him and his request.

                                                Simple. Clear. Blatant.

In my mind, a weight bore down

the weight of years of difference

in color, power and seating.

                                                The weight kept getting heavier

                                                As the man continued to look at me,

waiting, entitled and expectant.

I said no.

Something bigger than me, something bigger than the request,

kept me glued to the chair as I saw

change.

                                                No more would I stand in

                                                compliance, for anybody

                                                else’s convenience.

It was time for me

To sit down for standing up.

- Poems on the prompt for line breaks :

Patio Lights

I remember those Saturday evening

patio lights and how they peeked

through the curtains of your hair.

Seemed almost necessary

then to capture you

amidst all that barbecued merry making.

And my polaroid camera agreed..

Whole heartedly.

Maybe it was the bourbon

spiked aweet tea, endless glasses of those,

that made you look almost etheareally

lovely.

I wish you could see yourself through my love struck lens.

You would have understood why I

smiled like an idiot all evening

When I saw you in that breezy summer dress

 making you look like a garden fairy in flesh.

Seems rather teenage now but in those moments

 you made me feel more like a man

than I’ve ever felt in my life.

                       

Now my polaroid camera longs to see you again.

That’s just my pretentious photographer’s excuse though.

And hopefully, it’s a better one to get you back to me.

Because Saturday evening patio lights

 just aren’t that magical,

unless they peek through the curtains of your hair.

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Note: Line break explained:

1)      “I remembered those….

…amidst all that barbecued

merry making”

2)      “And hopefully, it’s a better one…

…curtains of your hair”

The first line break is for highlighting the space or setting the poem is set in with girl and barbecue set up, giving her the separation of owning the space in the poem.

The second line break highlights the sound of the first and last paragraph being almost the same and the last paragraph echoing the feeling of the first one.

Dadu

Coming back from school

with my sweat slicked, dirt licked face,

I’d always looked forward to you

 asking about my day and having lunch together.

And the afternoons when the lunches were boring,

I’d insist you to buy me McDonald’s meal

to which you would say a firm no at first,

But then you’d give in

to my childish empty threats of skipping lunch

and ask me to order some extra fries

for you as well.

Mischievous smiles had never

looked better than while they were

on my 80 year old hero.

I remember the winter evenings

of Delhi Decembers,

when I’d sit on our age old carpet

next to you and hold your knee

while you’d regale me with

stories of the ‘Dilli’ that

was and samosas eaten by the anna.

Now every birthday of

yours and mine, I set aside an hour or two

to realize the fact that I

 loved you more than anyone else.

And how stupidly

 it look you going away forever

for me to understand that.

You once said to me “Nobody’s indispensable”.

Not realizing while in saying it, that’s exactly what you became.

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Note: The two particular line breaks that I am choosing to explain are:

1)” You once said….what you became”

2)”And the afternoons….to my childish demands”

The first line break that I have chosen to highlight is for speed because the last two lines are the climactic end to the poem and I wanted each of them to have their own fixture in the reader’s attention.

The second line break that I‘ve chosen to highlight is to give a sense of fond remembrance of the times with the grandfather and also for sense of suspense for the reader to see whether the childish demand was given in to or not.

- Poems for the prompt of repetition :

Old Friend

My old friend and I have shared many

a memories together.

Memories of screaming into pillows

behind locked doors

memories of exhausting bouts of

teary eyed conversations with

the mirror

memories where I don’t remember

the last time I ate a proper meal

memories which are now a reminder

of my old friend’s “love”.

My old friend and I saw

each other frequently and people

didn’t like it.

Warnings, threats and ultimatumns

were often hurled at me

and my old friend.

But I found comfort in the

caresses of my old friends.

Caresses which were later

hidden with long sleeves

and dark denims.

I always thought my old friend

was good to me.

A quiet understanding between

us soothed me between restless

nights of tossing in my sleep.

Yes, my old friend was good to me.

It wasn’t until I saw another

girl with the same old friend

of mine, her school's blue shirt turned a dried red

on the sides that I realized,

My old friend

was no friend at all.

With that thought,

my old friend and I never met

again.

And there I took my first

steps to make new friends who 

played melodies in my ears,

painted my feelings on a canvas and

glided my thoughts on crisp sheets of blankness.

But most of all, I became friends

with the girl I saw in the mirror everyday,

who was now seen as so much more

than just her old friend

and finally isn’t crying alone anymore.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a Sunday afternoon

lunch at your grandmother's

Nostalgia is an old picture

with a flash too bright and

a smile wide enough.

Nostalgia is you and I recounting

days over tea brewed

too strong at the place we

remembered as our rendezvous.

Nostalgia is my mental hug

to myself on days of lazy lonliness.

Nostalgia feels like a bed

cover in summer with the AC running at the lowest.

A comfortable luxury.

Nostalgia is a friend

Nostalgia is an old lover

Nostalgia is a word which now seems weird because

I’ve used it too many times

But nostalgia is fond of you and your colgate smile.

So I keep taking trips down

memory lane and revisiting us

in memories stored away

for a colder time.

So here I stay, in these

nostalgic lanes

 waiting for you and I to meet again.