My National Poetry Month challenge to myself has become a collaboration between synaesthetic artist Sammy-John, myself, Anjum Wasim Dar and Jay Gandhi: Day Six: D Major Fur Mo

D Major Fur Mo

D Major Fur Mo

The Cage

The parrot starts to sing Paani Da
as I play the E minor Chord.
He tries to be in tune but the heat
is getting to him. A.C. is not working,
roof is leaking, maid has not turned up,
Zomato guys are taking ages to deliver
a Cheese Frankie. Nick is still in coma.
I shift the chord to D. It’s ungainly
but the parrot does finish his song

By Jay Gandhi

These Are Victories

fresh green shoots, leaves and flowers,
woodlands heady scent of wild garlic ,
bird song and bleating lambs
wild daffodils appear alongside the river
smaller and more delicate,
trumpet shaped flower a paler yellow.

kittiwakes, guillemots,
razorbills, gannets,
fulmar, shag and puffin
return to seacliffs

blackthorn blossom a froth
of clustered white flowers
on thorny branches
before the leaves burst bud.

curlew’s soft, bubbling call,
Ring Ouzel’s a blackbird
with white bib blasting
out of the heather

emperor’s, orange and yellow
day-flying moths, eyespot patterns
on their four wings, struggle
from cocoons on the moors.

Mo sits and downs a sacrifice of golden ale
sunglint on pint glass, a fine sup,
thankful another winter’s
deaths and distress worked through.

By Paul Brookes

No glory, nor pride in fires of violence ever exists;
Transformed into myriads of granule dust,
Innocent lives to eternal slumber sent
With brave last words they went–
Not to their Earthly abode, but to the celestial
Spheres to twinkle and shine and guide
The world to a higher call from a higher ground.
Once that stood tall was forever destined to fall,
Unnoticed, autumnal traces become visible,
Harbingers of the changing fall, remember ye all
The blaze metamorphosed to flowers?
Darkness white, casting a gloomy pal,
But the crashing of the wall
Was a higher call from a higher ground
To the heavens bound,
Where there are glorious towers.
There will be, there are unforgettable flowers.
Myself in race, color, creed, and freedom fetters–
Could I have served God better?

By Anjum Wasim Dar

2 thoughts on “My National Poetry Month challenge to myself has become a collaboration between synaesthetic artist Sammy-John, myself, Anjum Wasim Dar and Jay Gandhi: Day Six: D Major Fur Mo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.