‘Labour of Love’ by Marie Flora Ben David Nourrice

a nutshell: published in 2004, this poem from Seychellois poet Nourrice reflects (I think!) a mother’s love for her child and expresses gratitude for the healing power of time

a line: “How patient I have been | Watching the pregnant moons”

an image: continuing the nature-inspired imagery, Nourrice describes heartbeats as soft as falling petals

a thought: I was delighted to hear from the poet in early September when I reached out to learn more about Seychellois writing

a fact: as shared in this interview, Nourrice is a poet, educator and curriculum development officer known as ‘Miss Flora’, who has made a significant contribution to her country over 25 years

want to read ‘Labour of Love’? visit here

Black Stone by Grace Mera Molisa

a nutshell: described as one of the ‘foremothers of Pasifika poetry’, Molisa published this poetry collection in 1983 with black stone as a reference to vanua, i.e. Vanuatu’s black solidified lava base

a line: “Black Stone | bird of wealth | solid bedrock | dwelling of death” – from the titular poem ‘Black Stone’

an image: in ‘Victim of Foreign Abuse’ I was struck by Molisa’s description of natives stateless on their own land while exploiter colonisers milked her dry

a thought: my interpretation of Molisa’s poetry was helped greatly by Selina Tusitala Marsh’s article in Cordite – Marsh notes that, like black stone, Molisa has been a foundational creative & critical force in the formation of Vanuatu as a postcolonial nation

a fact: in 1977 Molisa became the first woman from Vanuatu to gain a university degree – a Bachelor of Arts at the University of the South Pacific

want to read Black Stone? visit here

Call Me by My Name: Poetry from Kosova in a Bilingual Albanian-English Edition by Flora Brovina (tr. Robert Elsie)

a nutshell: Brovina’s lyrical poetry* powerfully bears witness to the violence and tension in Kosova across the late 20th century

a line: “Flowerpots hurtling through the air | Know nothing of the curfew” (‘The year 1981’)

an image: in ‘Exodus’, Brovina describes flowers walking hand in hand towards the sun while behind them grows flowerless grass

a thought: moving beyond the poems I had read, I was (i) shocked to discover Brovina was abducted in 1999 and accused of ‘terrorist activities’ under Article 136 of the Yugoslav Penal Code (ii) moved by her declaration during proceedings in which she said her objective had been to dedicate herself as a doctor, poet and woman to rights for women

a fact: in March and April 1981, Kosovo Albanians took to the streets in peaceful protest to demand more autonomy within the former Yugoslavia – this was met with tanks and troops

want to read some of Brovina’s poetry? visit here

[note: I read a selection of the poems available online]*

‘Time’ by Dragana Tripković (tr. Peter Stonelake)

a nutshell: exploring history and the present, this poem reflects on how nothing (and no one) lasts – not even the reader

a line: “Memories are the heaviest burden in that pigsty”

an image: rather than revolutionary and bloody, the pavements are concrete whores whose names change with the lust of rulers

a thought: I was thrilled to stumble on this poem through this Words Without Borders issue from March 2017 – a commendable effort to ensure Montenegrin women’s poetic voices are better heard

a fact: born in 1984 in Montenegro, Tripković is a poet and playwright who was one of the founders of the theatre group Alternative Theater Active Company (ATAK)

want to read ‘Time’? visit here

‘In Which Language to Write’ by Odete Semedo (tr. Alejandro Aguilar)

a nutshell: alternating between languages, these poems reflect Semedo’s dislocating experience of living in both Portuguese and Guinea-Bissau Creole (‘Criollo’)

a line: “But what signs to leave | The grandchildren of this century?”

an image: the poet declares that she’ll leave a message on parchment in this Portuguese language that she misunderstands

a thought: I found it interesting how most of the verses are formed of questions (not statements) – such as whether the poet will talk in Portuguese despite it denying her art or muse, which led me to learn from Wiki that Guinea-Bissau Creole is the country’s language of informal literature

a fact: born in 1959, Semedo went on to assume prominent roles including Minister of National Education and Minister of Health

want to read ‘In Which Language to Write’? visit here

Two Poems by Marie-Léontine Tsibinda (tr. Nancy Naomi Carlson)

a nutshell: as a pair, these evocative poems juxtapose Tsibinda’s memories of village life in Congo-Brazzaville – both the beauty and the brutality

a line: “Do you feel how the daytime air vibrates | and feel the shudder of lush land | when the rushing train rattles the silence of mountains?” – ‘The Village’ (the first poem)

an image: in the second (darker) poem, ‘In My Village’, Tsibinda portrays the more sinister elements of village life, for instance how each brother becomes an enemy, each laugh an arrow, each word a shoal – these images are particularly powerful with the knowledge that Tsibinda fled her homeland in 1997 due to ongoing conflict and was ultimately resettled in Canada with her family

a thought: I enjoyed reading the translator’s note in which Carlson describes her process of first creating sound maps to highlight Tsibinda’s patterns of assonance, alliteration & rhythm to try to honour the music infused in these lyrical poems, e.g. imitating the pattern of repeated sibilants around snakes (“hirsutes où se tissent des serpents”) with “thickets where snakes intertwist”

a fact: until reading these poems I’d never heard of a ‘pirogue’ and had to look it up – Merriam-Webster records the same definition as for the word ‘dugout’, that is, a boat made by hollowing out a large log

want to read Two Poems? visit here

History Shelves by Sassy Ross

a nutshell: this extraordinary poem explores a father-daughter relationship, opening with a frail memory of volumes kept and closing with a frail memory of volumes lost – it’s a poem whose every line is exquisite & complex & powerful

a line: “I, | a junkie for words I could not pronounce”

an image: in the first verse the poet portrays her father skimming hieroglyphic texts, and I loved how she described his thumb as a hummingbird hovering above the page

a thought: I was deeply moved by this poem despite feeling like I was only scraping the surface of its multilayered meanings, then I learned that Ross’s father struggled with addiction – only then did I realise why I relate so strongly with her fears about being cut from the same cloth and her line about how her dad fought demons in his sleep

a fact: born in Castries, St Lucia, Ross grew up speaking a mixture of English and a French patois – she migrated to the US aged 10 and began writing poetry while studying at Pennsylvania State University

want to read ‘History Shelves’? visit here

Moments of Nil by Flora Tavu

a nutshell: gathering poetry & short stories side-by-side, this is an accumulation of thoughts from Brunei-raised writer Flora Tavu

a line: “leave us cold with the coldness of lost hopes and dreams raining down our sanity” – ‘Unthink’

an image: a disturbing reference to a chopping board recurs throughout the pages – the first time it appears is in ‘Lullaby’, a disconcertingly gentle title for a poem that includes blood-spattered walls

a thought: on the inside flap, Tavu expresses her hope that after reading this, a reader would be able to know the person that she is – a vulnerable statement of self-exposure given the subject matter that follows

a fact: the contents of this book were written over the span of a decade and half, 1998 – 2012; at times Tavu’s mind would go blank – from three days to three months, even a year – then at other times the writing would rush out like a hurricane, she shares

want to read Moments of Nil? visit here

‘Melting Sun’ by Laila Neihoum (tr. D Mohamed Hassan and Neihoum)

a nutshell: over five short verses Libyan writer Neihoum probes the notion of familial expectations against a setting of unnaturalness, from an unturning tide to an eclipsed noon

a line: “What if I had not been my parents’ sculpture”

an image: halfway through the poem, the narrator faces an abandoned cave where a tear is the only water spilled into emptiness

a thought: I couldn’t help but pick up on how the poem’s first three words, things fall apart, echo the title of Chinua Achebe’s debut novel published in 1958 (over forty years before this poem was written), suggesting a broader significance to its themes – namely the influence of colonialism on African families

a fact: Neihoum was the first writer from her country to be accepted to join the International Writers Programme at the University of Iowa – she wrote a poetic manifesto for Libya which can be read on Words Without Borders

want to read ‘Melting Sun’? visit here

‘From where the voice is born’ by Carmen Naranjo

a nutshell: this fifty-line poem by Costa Rican poet & novelist Carmen Naranjo is a beautiful reflection on voice, silence, presence and absence

a line: “I have goodbyes in my hair | and forgetfulness in the eyes”

an image: towards the end, the poet describes being in front of the stars opposing a challenge to be brilliant

a thought: Naranjo’s line about a voice naked of ‘yes’s and ‘no’s made me think about my own commitment to balancing my ‘yes’s and ‘no’s – for so long I have said yes to everything and finally I’ve come to realise the sense in knowing how not to

a fact: born in 1928, Naranjo enrolled in a writers workshop following her return to Costa Rica in 1964 (having worked for the UN in Venezuela) and soon began publishing both poetry & prose

want to read more of Naranjo’s poetry? visit here

[*note: I read a selection of the poems available online]

[note: I read a selection of the poems available online]*