PASSING DAYS THROUGH FREUDIAN SLIPS A seemingly nonsensical murmur Wrapped in warm casual utterances At times, a passing fore lone word Or maybe an attended chain of phrases, Sneaking hurriedly from hidden corners Gliding towards the easy audience Seeking refuge, dripping until late Dusting the heavy sack of unconscious So with each slip, light it grows At other times, Into a puddle of jumbled letters, I drop, Bracing embarrassment of unforeseen Reversals. Rsalsreve. As in a perfect waltz, my speech “Peel the orange and then sleep”, Breaks all bounds of familiarity, Spins around, spins fast and at “Peel the sleep and then orange”, It finally halts. Shyly, I stand corrected each time Cursing, dear Mr Freud in undertones For he brought my lingual distortion to Center stage. Astonishing enough. It never fails to perform through me. ROOTING OUR DISPLACEMENT – A MEMOIR Rising winds carried me to places unseen While none had refuge to spare or solace to shed As a dandelion in motion, an un-nested bird I kept roaming Reaching the landscape, which mother often talked about, (Now mastered in memory), winds of discomfort ease and I descend into the whirlpool of memories Removing a lifetime of snow, fallen in the backyard Cold hands recover earth soft to touch, The warmth therein still feels home, crawling slowly, I Chinar – reclaim my Kashmir Nurture my wounded roots and all lost once to decay Tears of remote past will tend Likes of me uprooted from our terrains Have wondered for ages, wandered too far We the Dis Placed Are forces of nature, seeking to root our displacement THE NIGHT WILL SHROUD US AWAY We cancelled all wild plans For the final family dinner Before our town in Alaska Hosts its annual polar night Dining decked with delicacies Enticed children to whiff until supper Hot Spaghetti served with meat sauce Potted shrimp followed by chocolate tarts Eager clock ticked away, scented candles relaxed The guest arrived accompanied by a Shepherd’s pie Together we marked the hue as the sun went down Our distant laugh rang through the unadorned hallway
Bio: Anisha Kaul (she/ her) is a poet with a Master’s in English Literature, presently living in New Delhi, India. As of now 40 of her poems have been accepted or are housed in various national and international print and online anthologies. She served in the capacity of the editor for DRC, College Magazine Pramila, University of Delhi, 2016-17 issue. Anisha has also qualified the National Eligibility Test (NET) for Assistant Professorship conducted in India. She loves to write about herself in the third person. Find her on twitter: @anishakaul9.