All posts tagged: An Index Of Women Poets

Miriam Calleja

“Pomegranate heart” and other poems by Miriam Calleja

Four million years of eyes Heady honeysuckle sweat Skin ripe fruit Lips floating Scents Four millions years Of eyes (first published in Pomegranate Heart by Edebooks) Pomegranate heart She counts the seeds Of my pomegranate heart The same, always the same No matter how many times she counts. Her fingers are stained And though she may wash and scrub There I will be In her skin, lodged in places Where she cannot wash me out (first published in Pomegranate Heart by Edebooks) A new kind of courage You give me a new kind of courage you’ve seen me crawl out of my own skin frustrated beyond words shaking my fists and my beliefs at a world that just won’t understand because, who am I? and who are you? and what is it we are doing collectively that would matter at all? you’ve seen me rise out of the destruction of my own dreams bright-eyed brushing every bloody tear off my face in the way only long, hot showers and music can you’ve seen me run …

“Damascus” and other poems by Rebecca Ruth Gould

Yerevan in Winter As we hewed words from the stone tower, the planets completed their orbit. Ice cracked & froze. Our glass walls gazed on the circus below. Cars sailed through smog. Buses creaked their way to work. As we sat secluded in our icy fortress, the firmaments lit the horizons that translated our union into words. I watched you stare into the abyss. I watched the passage of the lives we could have lived. I watched our fates diverge, & our shadows merge. I watched the images from our quarry twist & turn, then melt like snowflakes in the crisp morning snow.   Isfahan When we recited poetry in Isfahan, the Bridge of Thirty-Three Arcs stretched to embrace the firmament. The songs you brought to life were meteorites, detonating in the sockets of our eyes. If time had been reversed, the poet’s tomb would have been our pilgrimage. Water would have flowed from the Ziyandeh’s shores, & every point on the bridge would have echoed the sky’s demand for release from the earth. But …

“After a deadly aerial engagement, a cup of tea” by Shadab Zeest Hashmi

Past the news of war, you sleep in a litter of cacophony knowing the dead will forever bind their miasma to your hair knot their shrouds to every hook in the house, hem the sound of sirens to your head Between tonight’s brocade sky, inked textile of tomorrow, and tomorrow, there will be an hour of war, creeping like a reptile across the fields where two countries grow rice with their backs to each other and fly kites this time of the year to welcome spring The sort of night an emperor could create from the shudder of mortality a marble mausoleum to house his love after death— moonbeams sewing the lips of loss, light swirling through filigrees, carved tulips and fruit buds, turning time to flesh — it is early spring, you too feel a tingle in your fingertips, tremble a moment like a Shalimar cypress, but the masonry of your body is recalled when warplanes approach, when all around you are loved ones asleep, and what the newscasters will later call aerial engagement …

“Child’s Celestial Chime” by Deirdre Gallagher

Child’s Celestial Chime Buttery chiffon taffeta folds of an early evening Hedge rustling sways to softening breeze Dalliant twitterings nestle into hummingbird tillage. Amidst the lazy din, a pristine crystal chime – Unfettered, it’s inflection pierced through the clouds. This ascension Reaching the supreme octave – Vibrations of purity rang out. Labours of Love Palms upward cupped in symmetry An open book of forgotten scripture Etched into frail translucent papery flesh and gnarled knuckles Lines and scars trace a stoic history Discarded chronicles of toil, forbearance, silent sacrifice The forsaken testament of unsung heroines. By the graft of these now rendered distorted arthritic joints were carved Labours of love. “Child’s Celestial Chime” and another poem are @ Deirdre Gallagher Deirdre Gallagher is a graduate of NUI Galway. She speaks three languages and enjoys travelling. She hopes to stir, uplift and summon emotions to the surface with her words. Her work has been published in A New Ulster. She has taught abroad for a period and currently teaches in Ireland. Herself and her husband reside in …

Ellen Chia

“Cloud Forest” and other poems by Ellen Chia

Cloud Forest On montane roofs, Veil-thin sojourners Serpentine through green Flightless birds — Myriad crowns perching One-legged, spreading Multi-tiered wings Plush with plumes now Dripping fresh With the gilded bath. In the plumage larders, The green birds set to Spin their sugary fares, While at it, Gazillions of their Tiny lungs Are humming the Three billion-year-old gift; Coursing far and wide Through life’s tributaries, Even of those Who wish to silence The gift With their acute myopia.   Current The Asian openbill stork alights Amid the wheeling terns, Then drifts along On the hyacinth raft – The raft by now A seasoned drifter; Growing organically And by fortuitous mergers On this placid Cloud-mottled river. That makes three drifters On this course of the river Giving ourselves over to The current of the moment – My thought self Long embarked with the stork On the raft.   The Balcony Wall The alliance, one of an Indefatigable nature Forged between Time and Weathering Has rendered its coat What was once a gleaming Eggshell white into A variegated …