Kolár: Housing Estate
go past, the way
on heather-coloured days like this,
from the West.
approach too fast,
trained at you,
speeding down the one-track road
of marshland, swamp,
every town you've ever driven through,
Look, here's your house
clinging to the door.
just don't look back -
all you left waits
still in gear.
by MONIZA ALVI
to wash the windows of my house.
There are no blinds to shut them out with.
The clouds above the Lough are stacked
like the clouds are stacked above Delft.
They have the glutted look of clouds over water.
The heads of the dead are huge. I wonder
if it’s my son they’re after, his
effortless breath, his ribbon of years ─
but he sleeps on unregarded in his cot,
inured, it would seem, quite naturally
to the sluicing and battering and pairing back of glass
that delivers this shining exterior …excerpt from "Through the Square Window"
with its Metropolitan Line for the sticks or the city!
Look at us side by side and mucking-in for the graft
for Harrow's no one's centre - everyone's home!
aubergines and plantains! Harrow is Polski Sklep,
seasonal matzos, and the daily splash-island-song
of pomegranate, guava, melons and mangoes!
and a workout for zumba, bhangra or freestyle!
Harrow is Diwali, Eidh, St Patricks, Channukah
alongside summers of jazzy razzamatazz melas!
were home for Romantic Lord Byron, home too
for India's jewel of Independence Jawaharlal Nehru
and we'll fight on the beaches Winston Churchill!
imagine him pegging-it down the lanes for school
at Vaughan Primary where nowadays my daughters
are at home in the countries and continents of tongues!
all who claim their origins from over the rainbow,
learn to love whatever is kaleidoscopic or contrary
in our youthful Harrow with its arms flying in the air!
after the Maltese of Immanuel Mifsud
In the electronic age, every nutcase
With a notebook is writing a masterpiece.
They spend their nights locked up in chat rooms
And emerge with red eyes and love poems.