The Regntiden1 for Lloyd A. Jacobs, Ejaz Rahim & Leonidas Efthmiou after Rain (Regn) by Edvard Munch (Norway), 1902 C.E. I The Bookshelf // I assemble the newly procured bookshelf and place the wooden statues of The Zulu Warriors— my father had brought back with him from Kenya in the Summer of ’96 C.E.— on either side of the five-shelved rack, as if The Valkyries at the Valgrind to Valhalla. I place the books horizontally on the wooden planks, not vertically—since, the weight of the words can also force the spine of the book to bend. * The weight of the words of some books is also (in)famous for forcing the minds-of-wo/men to bend & mend! And I ponder: if the weight of the words of my books will also succeed in serving such a purpose? II East & West // I literally use the compass to figure out the exact eastern-end and the western-end of my room, and place the 4’ tall wooden lamp— a present I had received from my ex-girlfriend in the Summer of ’14 C.E.— in the Eastern Corner. [Perhaps,] it’s the effect of the sweet intoxication from the aroma of the freshly rain-bathed soil that forces me to take the proverb, the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, literally! And I place the stone incense burner (with an uncovered opening to the compartment inside for hosting a miniature candle)— procured from The Body Shop— atop the lid of the lamp to symbolise the Stella/Sol.2 III The Vahana //3 I think of pulling my vahana – Toyota Aqua (Hybrid) 1500 cc (procured via a local car dealer in the Summer of ’17 C.E.) – out of the porch and letting her also bathe and breathe in the mint-fresh rain. * This early, early ante meridiem cata-doxa4 is a call for Celebration ‘n Change: the (in)famous Indian Monsoon is early in the Summer of ’22 C.E. Both the man & the beast will be observing the Thanksgiving early, too— since the sunrays, like the uninvited guests, had the dramas-of-life rather shackled, lately. ______________ 1. Regntiden (Norwegian): The Rains. 2. Sol (Roman Mythology): The Sun God. 3. Vahana (Hindu Mythology): The Ride of a God/Goddess. 4. Cata-Doxa (Greek idiom): (Raining) Cats and Dogs.
On the Beaches in Bulgaria: 2016 C.E. for Cameron, Monika & Aleksandra after Children Playing On The Beach by Mary S. Cassatt (USA), 1884 C.E. I Today — Solis-roasted Sand2; Solis-burnt Sea2. It makes you appreciate e=mc2 in a rather strange, strange way. Or maybe it’s the beer (?) Under the gaze of the Thirsty Solis, a pint of Heineken barely manages to stay cool for > 300 seconds. II “… And pile it up more around the chest, belly & limbs. … But spare the face! You know I’m rather proud of my Persian Face!” He asks me to help him cover his body with the sunbaked sandy beach. “Don’t turn this into a burial rehearsal now!” I mock his idea of the sand-therapy. ~ The Scene / Act reminds me of the street hawkers from back home— roasting the corn-on-the-cobs & chickpeas in the salty-sea shore-sand on their mobile-stalls. III “We won’t let you drown. Trust Us!” Monika & Aleksandra make a support with their arms and teach me how to make my body float on the water. “When I was 9, I had drowned in The Indus River on a picnic day-out,” I stutter as I raise my legs & let the buoyancy take charge. IV Today — I’ve been rather unfaithful to myself: I violated the vow of Literary-Celibacy i.e. I broke the promise-to-self to not to indulge in any poetry & poems.
Cigarette-Smoke Halos for Family & Friends after The Muse Inspiring The Poet (La Muse Inspirant le Poete) by Henri Rousseau (France), 1909 C.E. I Mercury/Steel Cigarette-Smoke Halos for all my dreams. Why shalt I feel intimidated by an Israfel?* II Of late – poems are frequenting me like an Ottoman Emperor frequents his favourite mistresses in the harems. III Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a Socrates, a Constantine, a Rumi, a Ghalib, but without any fast acolytes. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a line without any alphabet and commas and apostrophes and periods. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m an epic that can’t be bound by any spiral or saddle-stitched spines. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a thumb, a forefinger, a middle finger on a hand that can’t seem to be able to strangle the wind. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a medallion, an untied knot on an Eshfahan, a Kashan, a Farahan kilim. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a verse, a couplet, a ghazal, a sonnet, but without any regards in her chest. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a curse, a prayer on a broken mother’s lips, who lost a youngling to some war. Sometimes – I feel like/as if I’m a Man —with a Free Will— but only as free as his idioms and narratives. ______________ *Israfel: One of the Four Archangels in the Islamic Theology. The named Angel is assigned with the duty of making the announcement for the arrival of Youm al Qiyama (The Judgement Day). Saad Ali (b. 1980 CE in Okara, Pakistan) has been brought up and educated in the United Kingdom and Pakistan. He holds a BSc and an MSc in Management from the University of Leicester, UK. He is a bilingual poet-philosopher and literary translator. His new collection of poems is titled Owl Of Pines: Sunyata (AuthorHouse, 2021). He has translated Lorette C. Luzajic’s ekphrastic poetry and micro/flash fictions into Urdu: Lorette C. Luzajic: Selected Ekphrases: Translated into Urdu (2023). He is a regular contributor to The Ekphrastic Review. He has had poems published in The Mackinaw and Synchronized Chaos. His work has been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology. He has had ekphrases showcased at an Art Exhibition, Bleeding Borders, curated at the Art Gallery of Grande Prairie in Alberta, Canada. He has had poems featured in two anthologies of poetry—Poetry is a Mountain (2019) and This Uncommon Place (2019)—by Kevin Watt (ed.). Some of his influences include: Vyasa, Homer, Attar, Rumi, Nietzsche, Freud, Jung, Kafka, Tagore, Lispector, et alia. He enjoys learning different languages, travelling by train, and exploring cities/towns on foot. To learn further about his work, please visit: www.saadalipoetry.com; www.facebook.com/owlofpines.
