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•   A BIANNUAL LITERARY MAGAZINE BROUGHT TO YOU BY DESI WRITERS' LOUNGE   •

Volume 3


Spring 2008


Verse

Written by
Arien Elerina

Arien Elerína is not a poet. She is just someone who really likes colours and shapes and textures and emotions. Which would lead you to suggest that perhaps she should have been a painter instead. However, she is absolutely rubbish at painting. Therefore, she prefers fooling around with the written word: whenever she has lovely pictures of crabs or moons or bereft vampires in her head, or wild emotions exploding like fireworks in her soul, she likes to describe these things by writing down the first words that occur to her. As you can imagine, it is most unfortunate when she is in a bad mood and the pictures in her head involve violent uses of kitchen appliances and the first word that comes to her is one you could never say in front of your mother. Thankfully, Arien is not too lazy to forego editing her work before you can read it. (Actually, she is. Which is why she'd just like to take this opportunity to say: "Many thanks to Osman Khalid Butt and Afia Aslam for their patient and insightful e-mentoring.")

        
      
       
            
              

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La Grand Plaisir de Ma Vie


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We are not alike, you and I.

You were born with feet pointed starwards,

Greatness creased into your palms;

A child’s simplicity and sense of wonder,

With the jaded soul of an ancient oak;

You are a sanctuary for all who know you,

Gentle cherub, with your resilient warrior spirit.

You revel in light, in glee, my funny friend,

High and Heaven-sent, a splendid prince,

With the vulnerable heart of a poet,

And the gifted mind of a magician.

God spent every ounce of His love on you,

And you love me in only godly ways.

Me – your besotted, bright-eyed dreamer,

A touchy red object hidden deep within crab-shell,

With a frail heart ruled by the moon,

A childish mind, and a restless spirit.

What is my soul without yours for a home?

I am the quiet sea to your star-spangled sky,

The wild monsoon through your mythic wood.

No, we are not alike at all, you and I,

And yet, we find ourselves as one.

For though I cannot hope to equal you, Love,

I do love you – endlessly, hopelessly, completely.

 

 

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