Poetry Reading in Philadelphia

When I received this invitation to read for Philadelphia Poets event last November, I knew that 2012 was going to be the year for my writing. What a way to kick it off! Now, if I could figure out what I should read, I'll be all set! 

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Philadelphia Poets Presents its Annual Ethnic Voices Poetry Reading at the Manayunk/Roxborough Art Center (M/RAC)

This program will feature: Manya Bean, Lynn Blue, Mel Brake, Ashini Desai, Maria Fama,  Emiliano Martin, and Al Tacconelli

The poets represent many different cultures—Greek, African-American, Indian, Italian, and Spanish—and while their experiences either as immigrants or the descendants of immigrants are similar, the expressions of their feelings are unique and individual, and their approaches to the writing of poetry, varied and powerful. In some cases, poetry will be read in translation together with the English.

419 Green Lane (rear), Philadelphia

Sunday, February 12, 2012, 3:00 to 5:30 p.m.

Inspirations

I'd be remiss not to have a post this month for April is Poetry Month. In O Magazine,they had a great quotes by poets on where do poems come from.

I've been asked this before - "How do you know what to write? Where do you get the ideas?"

I like Timothy Liu's quote: "When you go to bed, you can't force a dream, right? In fact, the dream is a gift because it's a surprise. There are different theories about where dreams come from, but a general one is that the day's residue often becomes the little grain of sand around which the dream will then build. i think a poem is like that."

To me, poems are little birds floating around my head. I just have to stop and listen to them.
Literally.
I often close my eyes and type, just listening to the thoughts and words being fed to me.

I've had times when I cannot write poetry and I know it's due to much noise in my life. Until I can resolve or push the noise away, I cannot hear the words.


So poetry is all around us - the stars, the moon, struggles of humanity, our child's eyes, our pasta sauce.

Word Masala Poetry Anthology

A great way to start the new year!

I have two poems included in the Word Masala Poetry Anthology. It is published in the UK and was edited by Yogesh Patel. I haven't gotten my copy yet, but recognize some of the poets on board and know their reputations as writers. So, please support the publisher.

Moon Child

I'm a Cancerian, which means the moon is my ruling planet. Actually, it's not technically a planet,but astrologers don't get into the details. They recognize it for it's power.

I do know that it's the inspiration to a lot of my poetry and artwork. I never get tired of staring at the moon and trying to understand why it's there. All I know is that we're blessed to have the moon. I've made the moon an insolent seductress, innocent bystander, anthromorphed with power and emotions in my poems. I've sketched pictures of moonlit nights and trees.

I recently set my alarm for 2:41 a.m. on Dec 21, 2010 because it was the night of the lunar eclipse. The moon blushed red and I had to see. Once I saw the moon, I had to write. Moon, stars, sun - all seep into my poems because it touches a universal nerve. I race home on evenings with full moons and crane my neck to see the full vibrant moon.

The moon is such a central part of human history. Full of mystery thought full of confidence. It changes, but it's reliable. Children are told stories of the 'man in the moon'. In India, it's common for children to call it Chanda Mama (Uncle Moon) because of its strong presence. The poem below captures my daughter's preschool references to the moon shapes - banana, watermelon and orange.


Stage Lights


When life doesn’t make sense, I look
up at the moon.
It’s really just a foam ball
hung by a string

poked through a velvet cloth
draped over a cardboard theater
made just for us.

Tilt the lights to reveal a banana moon.
Turn it more to show the watermelon moon.
Oh, just flash the light --
it’s an orange moon.

So now I feel better knowing
that I’m only driving around in circles
and if I want to, I can lift the velvet
cloak and take a peek outside.

Moonlight Masquerade

Moonlight Masquerade


Moonlight is a naughty decadent light,
A brazen masquerade
stealing the sun's glow,
breaking the mutually agreed upon rules
between the morn and the night.

Dropping blue and silver
luminescence where there should be
shadows is the violation of the stated agreement.

Focus in 2011

As a writer, I found my success in publication benefited from my project management skills - establish acheivable goals, define the tasks, set a timeline and frequent status checks. I've strayed from it because my real job (and real world) has been extremely time consuming. I spend the whole day on a laptop, iPhone and Blackberry. Therefore, at night I used a poetry journal beside my bed to scribble and unwind.

My first task is to get my product togehter. So, recently, I've been transcribing my poetry into my main document. It's insane that I have over 200 poems and 100 pages. Not everything is super, but I'm quite pleased with most of it.

And, these poems don't deserve to sit in a Word doc. They need to be shared. Therefore, my goal for next year is to get out my work to as many outlets as possible. And, I need to take it a step further and get the a poetry book published. I've got lots of stories to tell and lots of different creative ventures in mind.

My mantra at work is "one bite at a time." I'm applying it to writing - one poem at a time.

Stillness

If there's something I should be doing, it would be mediating. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to do this for reasons (or excuses) too numerous to list. Yet I recognize the benefits. Could writing about it be just as beneficial?

Stillness


There’s a certain stillness
that one finds in the eye of the tornado
When you find it, you first have to raise your arms to the side,
then let them drop
taturally

You close your eyes
so you can listen.

There are sounds you don’t hear but
feel in your open palms.

Then you listen to your self speak
without opening your mouth.

There may be a brush of a an object across your cheek, but you don’t mind.
Just because.

The stillness is more critical.
It’s just for a moment that you can savor this.

In just a moment,
The twister will turn its course and you must follow.
And make your choice to seek the courage
to either follow the eye or stand?