April 6 -- line up with special guest Amit Dahiyabadshah

First of all, for everyone who has been attending by zoom for the last two years, we all owe a HUGE THANK YOU to

Elaine Richane!  She has faithfully kept the zoom channel open, and I only just found out, that should she wish a break… well… she hasn’t taken one, out of loyalty to be able to contribute to the weekly availability of the sharing of poems .

Her response: "it has been my pleasure to provide my Zoom account for such an awesome group of poetry lovers."

Happy Poetry Month 2022!

    

This session will discuss the first 5 poems  in-person  before Noon, when  Amit Dahiysbadhhsh will arrive. The zoom meeting will end at 12:40,  and be dedicated to his reading, so the "usual" poem discussion by zoom of the 5 poems may not take place. 

"Beannacht" by John O'Donohue (Blessing)

The Importance of Elsewhere by Philip Larkin

Chimney Sweep Apprentice by David Mills

Knuckles of Smoke: Peggy  by David Mills

Pray for Peace by Ellen Bass

Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light: Celebrate the Lightness of  Being by Amit Dahiyabadshah

 Last Will and Testament of the Tiger by Amit Dahiyabadshah

See  picture of Amit with Tiger paint on his face for the book launch from November: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD6R0HfUFSM  : go to minute 9:19 to hear him sing his own tongue. 

At minute 16, he explains the Urdu term, Iltija for begging[1] and reads this beautiful poem

where the cupped hand waiting to give, and the bowl of the hand waiting to receive create a sacred mudra of two imperfect parts. When a single rice grain performs, it ends a famine between us, this empty aching.

 

Ted Talk:  https://www.pw.org/content/amit_dahiyabadshah_0— Poetry that makes you think… 

Amit, the Tiger poet… founder of Poetree, guardian of a language, a tiffin carrier from the past that is present, that is India and India’s gift to the English language.  “… writer of half poems that depend on hi readers to be digested, completed, transformed: ‘for what is a poem but a throat/trembling/with a secret or sacred truth/and ann ear aching with/thirst for the utterance of that truth. Amit speaks in tongues. He is “wordwine,” a vintner, a blender, a metaphor-wielder and master of “the sun-soaked slowly ripened phrase.”  He carries the English and Indian English vocabulaires in his mind and heart, and writes them in breathtakingly honest lyrics.”

From the Foreword  to The Tiger Poet by Indran Amirthanayagam

 

To hear more of his beautifully incantatory voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpQH4fcJguQ 

 you can hear Amit read Delhi (p. 6), The Last Testament of the Tiger (p. 25) and The Terror of the Rice Tin (p. 44).  

 

The page numbers refer to his book, The Tiger Poet

available from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Tiger-Poet-New-Selected-Poems/dp/B09MGB232B

 

I have invited  Amit to speak on 4/6  about the first section  of his book“ Meet the Tiger Poet”; p. 5: Transition: leaving the village of farmer soldiers to become an urban poet:

“A last farewell to the things I knew… words fade to nothing /as the cows come home/and the things I don’t know yet

softly dust sunset.”  explain a bit about how his language is an oral tradition he  has written down.  The Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light: Celebrate the Lightness of Being p. 82— and Last Testament p. 25

 

If there is time:  “Terror Poems Medley” —(2nd part of book): I have asked how he received the idea  of “terror poems” —what that means to him  (in the back of my mind, other poets have used this idea);  see above and the Preface p. 42 (Terror as that perception between dark and light, awareness of a thousand shades of gray in human existence) and Terror of the Ripening Mango p. 43. and Terror of the Rice Tin p. 44.  

 

from the 3rd part of the book: The Trout p. 35; Moon Drenched in Gulmarg, p. 89 ; Here and Now p. 98

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[1] for a glance at the complexity of Hindi-Persian language: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persian_and_Urdu

Paul's comments: "moved by your selections for Wednesday,  I wondered what moved you to focus (in) on gritty and gutsy reality in those choices.  We, O  peners, are quite used to ethereal, internal, hidden and often tortured thoughts of modern poetry.

    Here is earthy stuff, stuff you can feel, smell, touch, hear, taste. There is pain and it is real.

There is flame and hot, iron pots and sweat on upper lips. There is creosote and dirt and bricks and black bread and...imagine, knuckles of smoke !

    It goes on with Ellen Bass .....religious pain, religious symbols, religions, buses, money, 

movies, ATMs, eating and drinking, carrots and onions, hawks, wolves, whales, prayers, voices, water and choirs. So, everything we see or do or hear, each breath, each belief, is a prayer as we make our way, even a stumble in the street.

    So much is physical in these poems, so much to actually grasp and turn and ponder.