January 2023
Bio Note: I can never forget the way my father stood in the middle of the living room and sang 'Trees,' by Joyce Kilmer, lifting his eyes heavenward at his favorite lines, 'Poems are made by fools like me/ But only God can make a tree/. Poems inspired by my father come naturally, as my love of nature and poetry comes from him. My poem 'Hope Tiptoeing in Christmas Lights' has a Christmas theme, and expresses the hope for the new year ahead. Delighted to receive an anthology from the West University of Timisoara where two of my poems, and two of my father's poems were translated into Romanian by students, guided by their professor.
The Dancing Professor
Seated in the middle row
of the old, University classroom
on hard benches that hurt the body
one window to let in the hot humid Bombay air
Surrounded by eager friends
Hungry for the truths of Literature and life
I watched the bespectacled professor
in his maroon khadi kurta climb on to the dais
(He had blue, ochre, brown khadi kurtas too
In his collection)
A different color for each day of the week
Each lecture colored by a different hue.
He was teaching rhythm and meter in poetry
Iambic, trochaic, spondaic, anapestic, dactylic.
From the dais to the front of the class
He began to gallop like a horse
He explained it was called Anapestic rhythm
Also known as the galloping rhythm.
The students applauded
I hung my head and averted his gaze
I was young and I felt embarrassed,
There was only one exit
I was seated far from that escape.
You see, the professor in the colorful kurta
Was my father!
I had gone shopping with him
to the local Cottage Industries store
to buy the style of kurtas he loved
Perhaps I should take some of the blame for
Agreeing to the loud colors
Though I did try to have him buy the cream-colored ones.
At home I asked why he galloped in front of the students
He gently replied ‘Poetry is a dance of words.’
Hope Tiptoeing in Christmas Lights
The melting snow has made furrows
in the road that passes our home
It is a winding long railroad track
with bright-eyed houses on either side,
Christmas lights wink and blink
Arranged in rings
on the pine trees outside the window
Flashing like signals at a railroad crossing.
There is no train on this road
It just looks like a railway track,
I am inside with my Christmas train of thoughts.
The lighted rings, we hope
Will cheer the passerby
The strobe lights on the lawn
that dance on the snow
Will applaud the night
and keep company with the stars.
In the blink of an eye
The train will move on to another station
A new year will arrive swiftly, perhaps silently
Or with a big bang.
More lights, more thoughts
More phases of the moon and stars
The occasional rays of sunshine
To allow some permanence
In the human heart.
©2023 Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
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