Poetry&Stuffby
MARNE KILATES
MARNE
S
KRIPTS
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
The SEA Ghazals
These poems are my contribution to Beyond Borders, the anthology for the 35th Anniversary of the S.E.A. Write Awards, annual literary prize for Southeast Asian writers given by the Thai royalty. I received my award in 1988.
1. After Watching “The Chase of Benyaki”
Bangkok, 1998
Lightest touch of daintiest feet, silk-
Smooth teakwood touched by feet of sil.
Fingers, toes, curl and curve ethereal,
Heavenward: faintest rustle of silk.
Ching bells tinkle, infinitesimal,
Strands of light next to skin: crinkle of silk.
Eyes flutter, demure, defiant, disarming
Daemon’s mocking masque of sculpted silk.
I sit here in waft os spice, coconut, mint,
Heady with incense―the sentiment of silk.
Garlanded with rose and jasmine,
Seldom have I been given the miracle of silk,
This gift of Thailand fit for a king:
My soul levitates, now made of silk.
2. Oriental Eisteddfod
Pekanbaru, 2011; For Rea Febry
The full moon rises behind the oil palms
Of Pekanbaru, the poets open their hearts like palms
At the steps of the city library. Beyon the city
Fringes, the voices reading books like palms,
Southeast Asia spreads like strings of worry beads,
Smoke of forest fires creep from under the palms.
Among ruins and high rises, over smooth blacktops
Braiding with the Siak River the poets speed among palms
To Muara Takus into the past, greeted by children
Singing, red brick of olden stupas among festooned palms.
The jungle is the past of Pekanbaru, where snakes
The ghost of a Japanese railroad under the palms,
And the steam and oil wells of Chevron churn,
And Dutch East India has closed its books like palms.
Oriental Eisteddfod: the poets’ voice open paths
Among the undergrowth, endless rows of oil palms.
