Thoughtful

Thoughtful
An e-less poem

Who knows what a thought is -
Why should a thought grow from this mind and not from this chin?

Who knows why it is that I think -
What would I think that would say it all, not want a word said past that fink?

Who knows how thoughts stop -
Is a man not a man should his thoughts halt for good. A flop?

What is this thing, a thought, anyway -
If a day is to dawn with half minds blank, would it blank out a portion - the ill in our world, say?

By Tasnim Jivaji.
December 6, 2006.

You Don't Sing

To my husband, Naju
after Ayub Ogada

You don’t sing.
No. You don’t. You know you don’t.
You don’t sing. Who is Ne-Yo?
In fact you can't sing and you don’t.

You don’t dance. No, you don’t.
Please don’t. No. No. Stop.
Fred Astaire, do not even try.
Please don’t. Just stop.

So I sing along alone
And you don’t moon, you don’t know
The words, the song, or even why
You can’t measure the moment in the tune.

And I dance alone
Galloping to the jam on the floor
And you might come but you
Don’t move, you squirm and you don’t get the tone.

Little sing and dance moments don’t a lifetime make
Adjustments to complications; strings tightened loosened
And you, you inspire me to be more than I could
You inspire me to be more like you, and I can.

Long walks, bike rides, reading, eating, aah silent pauses
You and I fluently do. Oh, and the three kids, just as easy too.
What I do alone is scary though. Overwhelming, but you know
I think of you and you inspire me to dare, and I can.

By: Tasnim Jivaji