Dissent was, in most democracies, fashionable once upon a time bra-burning, banners-buntings anti war sentiments and activism were so common then it was a matter of pride to raise voice against the establishment the establishment though trenchant did agree to parleys and dialogue
Dissent was the voice of angry young people defying traditions was considered dissent so was underage driving, drinking and drugs sex, smoking and rock and roll you could still not talk back to your parents
Dissent is not seen in democracies now we happily elect autocrats to decide our destiny we lap up the drivel doled out daily we fawn all over pint sized men with giant sized egos questioning not their actions nor protesting against rampant corruption violation of human rights or pollution
Dissent is dying a slow death we are busy swiping left or swiping right sexting, graming, and tik-toking we turn toxic trolls on twitter and feel our activism is done for the day binge-watching shows, we find politics too plebeian posturing to be woke, we go to strange lengths (and depths too)
Dissent lengthens our spine sadly we have exchanged it for lily-liver dissent can be shown by not acquiescing or by being silent but sometimes dissent deserves drum rolls and a vociferous voice smearing bright colours on a dull canvas is also dissent
dissent is not following rules or following rules when not expected being a round peg in a square hole being cloyingly sweet instead of scathingly honest holding on to your pen despite lack of ink dissent is sometimes just being you.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Kim, has asked us to emulate Australian poet, Les Murray’s excellent poem, The Quality of Sprawl.
The carping wind moaned on and on badgering the beetle brown old bungalow rattling its ratty-tatty rear bay windows it whooshed then wailed then whined scaring the decaying soffit into submission danced like dervish amongst the debris then losing steam, skulked in a corner of the crumbling cellar.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah wants us to have fun with animal verbs.
The susurration of sea-waves on the shore leaves the sand salty, sulphury and citrusy the sun gilds the grains in glittering golden glow moonlight; sapphire-silvery, sweet imbues the beach with shimmery, pearlescence but it is the stardust that imparts that pepperiness to the sand.
Written for Sadje’s wdys and dVerse quadrille Monday. Today I am the host and we have to write a poem if exactly 44 words including the word pepper or any form of it.
Nimble fingers I watched with awe pleating the saree expertly with incredulity I saw six yards draped so elegantly.
Mostly busy, never frazzled nimble fingers I watched with awe moving quickly they did dazzle your draping always without flaw.
Trying to pleat, a blank I draw was frustrated, then I recalled how nimble fingers had me in awe the movement that had me in thrall
I had practiced without a pause now am at ease, no longer raw saree is my first choice because nimble fingers I’d watched with awe.
Written for dVerse poetics and poetry form. On Tuesday for poetics, Lillian our host had asked us to create a poem motivated by one of the five portraits she shared by artist Hellesen.
Today our host, Grace, is encouraging us to try the form quatern! I have combined both the prompts. If you look at the picture below, you would know why the painting above inspired me to write about pleating the saree. 🙂
I watch disinterestedly as Miss ladybug wanders seeking attention the nimble goldfish giddily flaps and rolls feeding on the grass, the obese snail eyes the tomatoes but the last straw is the sneaky cats trying to pat my head!
I am usually good-natured but this shocking attempt to usurp my place is galling! I am off to the railway station will you send the car to transport me there?
Written for Sadje’s wdys and Eugi’s moonwashed weekly prompt using words from Kerfe’s random word generator.
Turbid thoughts taint decisions undermining clarity and cogent concepts moot matters mar the mindscape ululating notions create commotion leaving the brain too befuddled to tie all the unravelled loose ends.
Written for David’s W3 to yours truly’s prompt to write an acrostic poem on the following.
A scintilla of scimitar shaped moon sliced by iron bars becomes a calendar a sparrow’s chirruping announces day break in the dark dungeon when shadows deepen further night silently creeps in
My ears strain to hear beloved voices my eyes can’t see but my heart can feel my shackles utter words that my tongue is denied my blood is the ink that colours drab walls
hope wants to die but I cling to it desperately can anyone see the kites I fly from here?
I dedicate my poem to Indian poet-activist Varvara Rao, who was granted medical bail in August 2022. Many arrested along with him are still incarcerated.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s guest host, Paul, invites usto write a poem, using any form, that highlights the plight of those poets imprisoned for their craft.
*Amy Washburn in her essayThe Pen of the Panther writes that Black Panther poet Ericka Huggins’ work was often seized by prison authorities under the premise that she was writing “kites” — messages to other prisoners in prison slang. If one might extend this metaphor, it is possible to imagine that poems written by incarcerated poets are like “kites” to the world outside, soaring into the un-imprisonable skies beyond the prison walls. This gives us hope. (Taken from The Wire)