All posts by imransaleh

A Sea Otter

Poetry

A Sea Otter
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: January 21, 2004

A sea otter, a mallard duck and a fat African elephant decided they would have a picnic by the lake. The elephant was following the otter, who was following the duck, who was doing a good job of pretending to know where they were going.
“I am so glad to have found such good friends”, said the duck. “Not only are we smart, but we are also very good looking”.
Today was the elephants birthday.

Portrait

Poetry

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: January 1, 2004

It was very sweet of you to call on New Year eve. (if by chance it wasn’t you who called – as my sister sometimes mixes people up – let us pretend that you did)

I hope you had a great time on New Years. Mine was quiet – I worked, watched a bit of the 2nd Lord of the Rings, got a bit sick, and fell asleep studying Beckett in my bed. In fact I woke up thinking of you, something you said once, although I can’t recall it now.

Portrait (Untitled, 2003) Covered by Black Drapery
For ny

You knew
There was only black
Canvas underneath
Although hoped
It would be a picture
Of yourself
In an artistic pose
Holding an object

Those who were curious
Or ignorant to the rules
Would see
The real you

I’m sorry
That art is art
And you’ve always said that
Surfaces matter
The drapes are dusty
Haven’t been opened
Until a very long time

It Has Occurred

Poetry

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: December 3, 2003

As the sound of lapping waves
Stroke through each breath
And I press my forehead
To the ground
Waiting

Do not love me
Because I am dying,
Claiming to be alone
Love me
Because you are dying
And need a reminder

It Has Occurred

Can you pour me
Another.

It has occurred to me.

I might be paranoid.

Perhaps

This deserves some thought.

Can you.

List Before We Die

Poetry

List Before We Die
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: November 18, 2003

VARITATION ONE

You remind me a man who women give themselves to. Who leaves them at dark with only such precious naked memory, and they run to collect fragments of verse that litter the trail you travel. Dirt road is black, full of orchids only you can see. If Jesus planted an orchid I would want it to wilt in the buttonhole of your wool sweater. Petals floating away, like littering verse, toward the blur of your feet. I die white like orchids buds. You die wrapped in your sweater because you choose to stop running.

VARITATION TWO

We are not heroes by strict definition. Real heroes never die and therefore are not our kind of heroes. Perhaps only because there is no one brave enough to write them an ending worthy of their heroics. Weakness is our beauty. Our opposing foe not a mighty king plotting grand and towering murder, but the broken glass on the sidewalk, the question love, the darkness of the night to come. We are not heroes. We are not noble. You die on a throne of cold dirt covered by a blanket that you wove. I die jumping off the Argo.

VARIATION THREE

You die once. I die paranoid that I am not really dead.

I Am Dying Inside

Poetry

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: August 24, 2003

I am dying inside
He wanted to say
And it’s so easy to write about
Angst
She said
And I don’t understand
Why anyone would be so foolish
Neither do I he said
And they both were having trouble
Reading
This sort-of poem
Was broken dialogue
Like broken other things
That if you don’t know I’m not going to tell you
Which, like love, also fails
To make any sense

You think that perhaps
If you play the piano
Long enough
Pound the keys
Hard
(until the fingers bleed a bit)
that notes will remain
fluent in the air
and never die

you think if
I pound this
Hard enough
it will stay
with me
invade my silence
destroy
and make me whole again
with its long pause

where are you going?
I’m the one who
Promised to leave

4

Poetry

4
By Jehangir Saleh
Written:  August 24, 2003

I gave to you
A poem entitled
Rose
You approved of thorns
But would never accept
The stems or petals

Dried roses are like dead men
Who have lost their minds
Wilted, wrinkled
But remain shaped
As they were
During their last breath
Look at a your dead rose
Although layered with dust
Inhabited by spiders
It is still a rose
Until someone shakes it
And then the petals
Finally defeated
Fall

I hope my rose
Is collecting dust
In the company of a spider
Until the day you decide
It was never
Really a rose
(only a poem)
and throw it away

Nothing

Poetry

NOTHING
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written:  July 14, 2003

upon arriving
a man spoke
“nothing is here, nothing
blooms, spreads, and nothing
converts
everything”

i said
“i have come
from nothing, it cannot
change me”.

through silence,
nothing stirred

together
we three
walked

Bus Ride 2

Poetry

Bus Ride 2
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: June 18, 2003

there’s a disparity between
the attractive women and her snow flaked eyes
swollen, sullen, melting
after her sister’s death

last night
you waited to die in front
of the mirror
but decided to ride
the bus today
along with the other tragedies

embrace your tragedy
Character Sketch

Well,
i made an attempt
named a poem
after you

held an unlit
cigarette
sat down
to write

waiting instead
(like I usually do)
watched the empty room
it’s stillness
moving by

what do you
suppose it means
that you
as a subject of
study

is composed
completely
of questions
answers

are followed
by a question mark