Poems forever
By T. S. Eliot
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
By Amna Ameer
Dreams
Must only
Be just dreams
Right?
There’s no meaning
When you wake up
In the same home
You had for
Two decades
When you see
The same people
And meet them as strangers
And tell them
How life has treated you
Even though
You haven’t spoken
To them in years
What does it mean?
When you are hurting
And vulnerable
And your life’s
Safety backup
Is the same familiar
Feeling
Of what it was
Like to be understood
I guess
We give time
Too much credit
When no wave has passed on
It keeps lurking
At the shore
Of our heart
By Abid Agha
A cup of coffee is placed in front of me,
Dark, aromatic, and foamy.
But the chair opposite remains empty.
Kenny G notes play softly,
Making me feel more emotional and
lonely.
Cold gusts of December and increasing snowflakes
Hit the café windows,
Blurring the swinging street lamps,
Turning the view smoky and damp.
Suddenly, I recall what you once said:
“When the gusts of December begin to blow,
And tiny snowflakes kiss your face fast and slow,
Wait in the Café Prague. I will return,
To join you for a cup of coffee,
And feel the mildness of snowflakes.”
Strong winds and tender snowflakes
Knock on the restaurant door hard and return.
The chair in front of me remains empty,
And my eyes are stuck on the doorway.
