We wander in Al Seef Road, Dubai, taking in the exotic scents of Gum Arabic, Flowers of Maryam and Saffron. I am drawn towards a museum, which displays old typewriters, mud pots and carts. My child points gleefully towards a century-old rusty children’s tricycle. Intricately designed Pashmina shawls and carpets light up the dusty streets of Al Seef. Women of various ethnicities hover around a roadside Henna artist in wonder, admiring her floral designs while awaiting their turn. Their patient men linger around with smiling lips and bored eyes.
The poem below was written for Colleen’s double ennead challenge No. 6. The Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS! During this month, poets were challenged to use the image below to compose their poetry (ekphrastic poetry).
The double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES. This month’s theme is to write a double ennead based on a magical experience. You may choose the end rhyme scheme you want. Thank you, Colleen, for this opportunity.
I sit in the General Hospital, waiting for my turn when I hear a loud wailing. Expecting to see a child, I am shocked to see an elderly lady in a wheelchair, crying with her eyes tightly shut. I am deeply disturbed and could see that the other patients are uncomfortable too. This incident reminds me of an old cleaning lady in our condo whose eyes glistened as she told me how lonely she felt as her children and grandchildren lived far away. There is another instance of a man in our neighborhood who is dreadfully scared of dogs but has to walk his daughter’s dog, as she is too busy to do so. As I walk away from the hospital, I see an elderly man staring into space.
The Wooden Chair was the first haibun I had written. This was published in Contemporary Haibun Online’s July issue, 2013, Vol 9. Please find below.
My Wooden Chair
I stroll restlessly in my new house as trees outside are being chopped for construction. Lifeless new buildings are sprouting in the neighbourhood. I wonder mildly about deforestation as I lean back in my chair.
my wooden chair screeches– memories of a felled tree