Today’s choice

Previous poems

Usha Kishore

 

 

 

Chant

after Ammar Aziz

At dawn and dusk, my father
becomes a chant, that flies above
the courtyard of the old house
by the river, where only the men
recite Sanskrit prayers by lamplight,
as though in a divine trance,
to Gayatri, consort of the twilight sun.

Do they glimpse the goddess
in flecks of light that fall
into the lap of darkness?

Do they mimic the timbre
of the stars that ride on
the back of the earth woman?

What prayers are these, hymns
to a goddess incarnate in a mantra,
hymns that shut out real women?

 

 

Indian born Usha Kishore is a British poet and translator, resident on the Isle of Man. Usha is widely published and has authored three collections of poetry (the latest being Immigrant , Eyewear 2018). She recently completed her PhD in Postcolonial Poetry with Edinburgh Napier University.  www.ushakishore.co.uk

 

 

Note: The Gayatri mantra is a Hindu hymn chanted during twilight hours to the goddess, who personifies the mantra.

Elaine Baker

    Haberdasher After Pascale Petit I found out where my heart is that he’s cut out with his tiny scissors. He stitched it to a t-shirt with her name on. Back in New York they spend the weekend together, wandering down avenues that all look the same. She...

June Wentland

    Migraine day Two charged wires, that shouldn’t meet, are touching and – deeply – a tenderness of bright red ulcer pulses. The sky is the colour of unrequited fights and love bites. The magpies are nervy. The weather – saw-toothed and pissed – is...

L Kiew

    Glacier I overspill the high corries where the snow accumulates, breaks down, suffers ablation. Over the decades, the millennia, ice slows and fankles due to my weight. My skin extrudes nunataks, shears away to crevasses; I extend glassy gantries over...

James McDermott

    TAMAGOTCHI the tamagotchi was   a key   chain sized egg   shaped   computer   with screen   three buttons the tamagotchis were   small aliens like me   who   had   put down   an egg   on Earth to see what life was like   the player had to raise   the...

Karishma Sangtani

    In Memory of Bhau I have just woken up on a stern mattress in the living room again. I sit up, my hands pressing the night out of my body. There is that devoted din of a ceiling fan, blowing clumps of dust between the sofas. And spread across the walls,...

Leah Larwood

    From under the wardrobe the naked bulb on the ceiling is an oddly lit glass balloon, bobbing riskily upside down in the winter sky. There’s an unfriendly quality in my shoulder; I’m packed like a fugitive’s suitcase, roughly. Buried under hanged clothes...

Anatoly Kudryavitsky

      Looking Upwards These stones overhead, comets juggling omens... What’s the distance between nothing and no other thing? We eye the sky thinking of a science to replace it with. Has anybody flown to holiness from a language? To bliss from...

Fokkina McDonnel

    what will you do now you’re alone in the sun ask your shadow to leave you for a while send your shadow to market where it can frighten chickens, the women selling red powder let your shadow enter the forest of tall trees stroke the snouts of grunting...