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The therapeutic powers of poetry have already been
established over the ages, with the Roman physician Soranus
qualifying for the name of the first poetry therapist by
prescribing tragedy for his manic patients and comedy for the
depressed patients. The important considerations when providing
poetry therapy are whether the recipient is ready for it, and
whether it is opportune. Appropriately administered poetry
therapy is beneficial for diverse people. The elderly comprise a
group that is subject to corruption of the body as well as the
mind. This decay is often best addressed by persuading them to
read or listen to inspiring and motivating poetry. Research
shows that creative writing including poetry has a positive
impact on functioning at the corporal, emotional and cognitive
levels. It is believed that through the written and spoken
words, poetry facilitates self discovery, speeding up healing
and restoring self esteem and onfidence. There are instances of
geriatric patients recovering from bouts of depression and
reclaiming normalcy with the beneficial touch of poetry. Writing
and reading about the themes of loneliness, loss and death help
to connect with others with similar experiences and express
Needless to say, poetry therapy can be provided only by trained
personnel. The right poem with its distinct form and shape,
images, words, and sounds enables to establish a link between
the unconscious and the conscious. It brings forth deeply
embedded feelings and emotions, affecting an inner catharsis and
eventually endowing the blessed touch of healing and
Jayasree Ramakrishnan Nair
In the telltale shimmer of
dying flowers, the
petals on this polished floor
scratching against the wooden door.
Clanging bottles. City sounds.
In the bottom of my glass
(when almost nothing is left)
all I see is your resentment
(those eyes, oh, the knives)
Perhaps that's my fear, oh dear.
Monosyllabic and cynical
the line of conversation
hangs on a string so loose
that my words never seem
to reach your ears.
Or yours mine.
"I shot an arrow into the air.
It fell to earth,
I knew not where;
For so swiftly it flew that marvelous flight,
A moment's glory and out of sight
I breathed a song into the air.
It fell to earth,
I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of a song.
Long, long afterward,
Stuck in an oak
I found the arrow
And the song, from beginning to end
I found again in the heart of a friend."
Songs for the flowers,
Songs for the fruits,
Songs for the vegetables,
Coffee songs and gaming songs.
The unheard tales and untold experiences
Are faded in the graceful smiles and sweeping words.
the night and day
I will go
for an icarian fall.
A commitment to resistance
was over. I am
melting under the moon.
Hold my hand. A
dramatic front was ready
to destroy me.
Celebrating the death
was an intense mistake. It
was becoming a practice run
for the hangman
to sharpen his skill. There
was a long row of sinners.
When you look at the sea
there are ships in your eyes
I only see water and foam
a cutoff line
on the border of the sky and sea
In the deepness of your eyes
two ships recede into the distance
* * *
Now I should make jam
The plums are ready
Autumn is ready
During the last five years
time has been speeding up
with the addition of the flu, ringing in my ears, pneumonia,
radiculitis, a trumpet, drums, glaucoma, high blood pressure,
the timpani ring
in the end a whole orchestra
plays such a mindless tune
I am who I am
shameless deceitful timid
and still you water me
with your morning light
And that will happen now?
When there`s no electricity.
The screen is black
And there is no light to be seen in whole village.
Everything is quiet,
Evan that, which I didn`t notice before the murmuring.
Aldo the radio in the kitchen.
What will happen to me?
In this quiet twilight.
That very word almost slipped mu mind.
I sit listening.
I sit oddly.
Time stands still.
For the moment, For the century.
And that is happening now?
Translated by Jayde Will
the skin on my hands conceives
that I decipher patiently
wildly exalted and proud
or overwhelmed by terrifying pain
I am what I am
THE TWO DWARFS
Quite late I understood that not only does one not contiinue to
grow, but that one
shrinks, not in the shoulders, butall over.
Someone who hadn't seen me in some time said to me: "I thought
you were much
taller." Then I began to have to stand on tiptoes in order to
grab hold of things that I
used to reach normally. Now I live in the cracks of the
To see the world from below. How to reach, the clouds, the
table, his mouthís evasion.
THE DWARF ON THE BERCY BRIDGE
for Guadalupe Lara
Since I am a dwarf I can
clearly make out when the Seine because of the barges
parts the water right down the middle
When it cleaves a path
When it pretends not to notice the furrow or the wake
and each side rolls almost to the shore
The Seine is a dark, taciturn river
and treacherous for those who surrender their crimes, treasures
and secrets there.
Sometimes it happens to cast up a quick, bright sparkle
especially when it approaches Our Lady
and languidly spreads out like a peacock
but you shouldnít rely on it, I repeat
Thatís what the clouds warned me
and since I am a dwarf I play
a hand of tute with them
The clouds are very lively
Whatever I tried to do
they always won
until now because Im going
to give them a piece of my mind.
Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Let Me Think
You ask me about that country whose details now escape me,
I don't remember its geography, nothing of its history.
And should I visit it in memory,
It would be as I would a past lover,
After years, for a night, no longer restless with passion,
With no fear of regret.
I have reached that age when one visits the heart merely as a
Someone is at the door again, my weeping heart, no, no one
Perhaps a passerby, who will go somewhere else
The night has passed, waiting, the star-dust is settling
Sleepy candle-flames are flickering in distant palaces
Every pathway has passed into sleep, tired of waiting
Alien dust has smudged all traces of footsteps
Blow out the candles, let the wine and cup flow
Close and lock your sleepless doors
No one, no one will come here now.
Last night by
Last night your lost memory visited my heart
as spring visits the wilderness quietly,
as the breeze echoes the silence of her footfalls
in the desert,
as peace slowly, softly descends on one's sickness.
I am being accused of loving you, that is all
It is not an insult, but a praise, that is all
My heart is pleased at the words of the accusers
O my dearest dear, they say your name, that is all
For what I am ridiculed, it is not a crime
My heart's useless playtime, a failed love, that is all
I haven't lost hope, but just a fight, that is all
The night of suffering lengthens, but just a night, that is all
In the hand of time is not the rolling of my fate
In the hand of time roll just the days, that is all
A day will come for sure when I will see the truth
My beautiful beloved is behind a veil, that is all
The night is young, Faiz start saying a Ghazal
A storm of emotions is raging inside, that is all
when Autumn Came
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.