Do You See?

“Since friendship would infect me killingly”! Goodbye soon, Stirling.

Good lord, FIVE spam comments! Exhorting my “auspicious post”, “fanciful composition”, “manufacturing capacities”, and two that requested me to buy enhancement drugs. Yes, why not. Exactly what I need now.

Of course, permanently deleted.


I’ve been going grump grump grump since morning. Grumpy, very sad and grumpy. Just not fair that one has to expect things to end, things to remain unfinished, things to be left to wilt and evaporate. I’m talking about my move from Stirling. But at the same time I’m surprised at myself. How could I feel so anguished. Come on chica, buck up, chin up.

Poet friend Yahia Lababidi then throws this question elsewhere: “How do you survive yet another broken-heart after you’ve finally dared to Hope, again? A question for lovers and revolutionaries.

Yahia is posing this mostly for revolutionaries, and addressing the latest happenings in his country Egypt. But of course the binary in that sentence gets me thinking.

Then some other poetry cohorts sense my disgruntled mood and send me a poem. And, I start laughing. Tell me why:


“What to Say Upon Being Asked to Be Friends” BY JULIAN TALAMANTEZ BROLASKI

Why speak of hate, when I do bleed for love?
Not hate, my love, but Love doth bite my tongue
Till I taste stuff that makes my rhyming rough
So flatter I my fever for the one
For whom I inly mourn, though seem to shun.
A rose is arrows is eros, so what
If I confuse the shade that I’ve become
With winedark substance in a lover’s cup?
But stop my tonguely wound, I’ve bled enough.
If I be fair, or false, or freaked with fear
If I my tongue in lockèd box immure
Blame not me, for I am sick with love.
     Yet would I be your friend most willingly
     Since friendship would infect me killingly.

Source: Advice for Lovers (City Lights Books, 2012)


Oh dear me, I’m still laughing and am very glad my friends know how to dispel my grumpiness in one blow. Brolaski is brilliant. Who can employ a very fixed canonical style in a completely modern way as this? And look at the end words, the slant and half rhymes, also the internal rhyming and the beautiful rhythm in the alliterative measures, as well as in the inversions (which I actually pretty much hate to see in other poems). And the last couplet, the incisive tongue-in-cheekiness of it all — damn cool.

Sure then, I can bear to lose my quaint Airthrey Loch, pine flowers, the gaggle of swans, pesky squirrels-magpies-oystercatchers-bunnies-ravens, and the fiery rhododendrons.

And one solitary heron.

And some folks tucked inside my head.

Kid you not, I’m really laughing reading that poem, again and again! But I won’t lie, with one tear in one of the eyes; don’t know which one.


And believe me, one red cloud has arrived outside my window at almost 10 p.m. here. So much light in the sky. So much color, that I’m hyperventilating!

No use trying to click it, my camera isn’t strong enough to get the exuberance.


So, some other photo then.


This is in Fort William, a heavily cloud-covered 10 p.m. sky over the pier; from outside the takeaway where I met the Turkish-Kurdish folks (see my last post). I like the two different streetlights on either side of the road.

Seeing this makes me feel good. I leave us in peace then.


4 comments on ““Since friendship would infect me killingly”! Goodbye soon, Stirling.

  1. Mihir Vatsa
    June 20, 2012

    peace -_-

  2. Do You See
    June 22, 2012

    Dear little MV, you say “peace” as though I am dead! I’m still around, just not with web access all the time. But soon.

    Write a sonnet. Read the above. Make a new poem. Your task 🙂

  3. Mihir Vatsa
    June 22, 2012

    I suck at writing sonnets. Or more precisely, I suck at the unstressed/stressed bit. But here, wrote it just now. Had been watching A Haunting on Youtube, so you might see the influence.

    GHOSTS- 2

    I could not see what they told me through years
    nor the shifting face of a stunned scared ghost;
    never imagined that it is that tears
    the sounds so weak, and yet enthralling most.
    I fear a door opens the underworld
    and prepares funnels to release the host-
    the ever hungry, silent, whisper-lulled,
    haunting the other side for alleys lost.

    Perhaps what you need is a pair of eyes
    quick enough to demarcate the faces-
    on humans, extent of sympathy lies,
    while the ghosts get confounded by traces.
    When reason fails the mind border denies,
    consumes the chill and runs the same races.

    • Do You See
      June 24, 2012

      Hey MV, neat! I’ve not been reading writing much but will come back to read this again and comment. Good impromptu job though. But what of ghosts? You interested in all that? Sorry, have no idea about A Haunting, so, asking… Be back soon.

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This entry was posted on June 19, 2012 by in Fort William, JULIAN TALAMANTEZ BROLASKI, Nabina Das, poetry, Stirling.
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