Broken and pretty

The house swam in lime-green

aroma of melon seeds and chickpeas

and when the sunlight squatted on our palms

piercing through blue ,red and green

window slittings,

it all somehow looked so very pretty,

so very broken and pretty,

specially after mom left,

i started to love things,i started to love my

tiny parsee nanny

even though she looked dumb in scarlet lipsticks

stolen from mommy,i loved her like 

i finally came at peace with my being,

squashing the butterflies in lawn by dozens.

(God!they were so many,everytime they came back increased numerically)

World smalled out

and we carried it in dead baby brother's pram,

going through all the drawers,

for the first time,there weren't any secrets

in the big white house,

through daddy's black and white

university photos,

old nail cutters and rusty knives

and cook's huge bandana

when he was placing most delicate icings on cakes

and you,Ansa Salma,i drew three crosses over you,

one on neck and two on both breasts

while you kept playing chess static in the picture.

At that time i thought

i could draw everything on walls with crayons,

even happiness,

even those blue-green hellish flames

you wore, Salma, 

over paraquet coloured chiffon blouses

and the remains of Gold-leaf cigarettes,

we found outside papa's room

in the mornings.

At that time i didn't know

that the house

and me and the white drawing rooms

and the mahogany dinning table and roofs

were turning to you.

very broken and very pretty..

 

Reviews

[Art Sun]

even within the turmoil there is balance...you just need to reach deeper than the surface...my how the mind escapes when we let it...

nice...

[salvador (camuel choisu..]

So what can i say i was wowed away. I mean i was frighted at times but interested through the whole piece and so when i wanted to stop the emotion within the piece kept me interested and going. Great work of art.

[Emily B]

oh, Sahar, your art makes me tremble

[An owl on the moon]

What a moving, colorful write that seems enchanted... There is mystery here... a mystery that dreams of days gone by.. and it breathes the movement of recollections leaving only a longing for more...

[paul]

great title.
very unique, vivid images

[Sweet_pale_cacophony]

We all seem to be born out of the same brokenness..how we would love to get rid of it but since it has stayed with us too long we chose to dwell in the pain of it than not seeing it as a part of it at all.Your poems have this distinct eastern trait to them which make them very original..