All The Lonely People: Poems From Around The World: Reena Prasad Sharjah.

This week, I am featuring one of our wonderful Indian poets: Reena Prasad Sharjah who contributed to our anthology: All The Lonely People. You can link to her here on Facebook.Butterflies Oftime Many thanks Reena for your beautiful poem.

Art by Maria Antonietta Terrana.

In Absentia

Reena Prasad Sharjah
Butterflies Oftime

A rattan chair creaks to the rhythm
of a wind chime’s faint tinkle
A fat drop of water
plops into a plastic bucket keeping time
Invisible limbs stretch making the wooden bed groan
The lace curtain flaps nudged by an unseen breeze
A doll with two pigtails nods her head, freezing when I look
Soundtracks of urban life
the hum of the fridge, the clock’s tick
now insist on having my undivided attention
but bits of unfinished conversation, the zing of excited chatter,
memories of patter of tiny feet, the echoes of a thumping football,
the feel of a small, round head now absent from my lap-
all keep me company till life bursts through the front doors again
The shadow that follows me around when I am home alone
elopes with the setting sun.©

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About Dr Niamh

When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down. One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.” Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!” I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I? I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.” Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray. With love from Dr. Niamh, Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books. www.drniamh.co.uk

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