LUPUS IN FLIGHT

A small brown bird flies close to me. Yesterday, a butterfly - - white, monarch - I scent my grandmother near. She was not a poet Nor...

It circles round just as fast and soon you find yourself  at the end (the seeming end, really, just another beginning: anothe...

‘Shaista. That is a proud name,’ he said. I am proud of my name. It is the Rajput name for warriors. It is the Persian name for...

They disappear the girls, But it's the men who blur, for me. Whose father, did what, when, With whose aid, why - I care less Ab...

We thought it would come quietly, the final bend in the road; we shored ourselves up, with pots of tea, evening crackers and Sunday ni...

I think I know this: I could be happy at 80. Or perhaps 81,  When I am safely on board.  This being in my thirties Is neith...

Carl Brandien Hurricane at Tarpon Bend, September 15, 1945 That rumbling rolling Coming from thunder sound - The storm is about t...

Butterflies attract butterfly catchers; Young men with invisible nets Seek to imprison young women With the desire to fly. The abil...

I like painting my lips. Nothing wild like purple, or unexpected like green; just your standard, average, ordinary orange, herald of ...

About a Horse The reins put me off. That direct   link  to slavery.  A master designing  a halter  especia lly for his slave. Adjust...

It's like that even in autumn especially in autumn when you become part of the fall. You have forgotten to drink enough water thr...

My tacky heart Beats too fast - A Plaything For my rib cage - I could give it To You, if You asked But You Never do - *** Love ...

It begins with my mother. Food always begins with my mother. It tires me when people ask if I can cook a curry. As if all we eat is curr...

In some part of me I must believe nothing can be broken. What else explains this carelessness? It was the tiniest clay pot made for se...

Every colour on Turner's palette walks past the scribe. I am still, not quiet, in ochre and my mother's five silver bangles - ...

First the hair before it falls, taffy, black molasses. Then the skin, fever-flush pink, marshmallow cheeks, (steroid-f...

I went to the place where the wild things are last night, on the trail of the blood moon; I followed stardust and scalpel stones to the p...

SOUL MOUNTAIN Till morning comes a princess remembers secrets of the heart - the bride stripped bare, the blue flowe...

One of the pleasures of poetry is the way a line returns to you, unexpectedly. There you are, a schoolchild, being forced to learn of a poet...

I Write My Face Upon My Age In Lines Of Poetry - I Right My Wrongs Up On The Stage For All The World To See. © Shaista Tayabali, 2...