How to Read Shakespeare for Pleasure by Emma Smith

In recent years the orthodoxy that Shakespeare can only be truly appreciated on stage has become widespread. But, as with many of our habits and assumptions, lockdown gives us a chance to think differently. Now could be the time to dust off the old collected works, and read some Shakespeare, just as people have been doing for more than 400 years. Many people have said they find reading Shakespeare a bit daunting, so here are five tips for how to make it simpler and more pleasurable. 1. Ignore the footnotes…

Read More

Tha Grand Conversation by Paul Muldoon

She. My people came from Korelitz where they grew yellow cucumbers and studied the Talmud He. Mine pored over the mud of mangold- and potato-pits or flicked through kale plants from Comber as bibliomancers of old went a-flicking through deckle-mold She. Mine would lie low in the shtetl when they heard the distant thunder stolen by the Cossacks He. It was potato sacks lumped together on a settle mine found themselves lying under the Peep O’Day Boys from Loughgall making Defenders of us all She. Mine once controlled the sugar trade from the islets…

Read More

Dandelions by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Dandelions Welcome children of the Spring    In your garbs of green and gold Lifting up your sun-crowned heads    On the verdant plain and world   As a bright and joyous troop    From the breast of earth ye came Fair and lovely are your cheeks    With sun-kisses all aflame   In the dusty streets and lanes    Where the lowly children play There as gentle friends ye smile    Making brighter life’s highway   Dewdrops and the morning sun    Weave your garments fair and bright And…

Read More

Spring Cleaning by Melvin Dixon

Spring Cleaning First goes floor dust, then newspapers stacked near the bed. Peanut shells swept out of  hiding between mattress and rug. Toenails clipped. Sprouts of a beard shaved off. With hourly glasses of Deer Park Water and the barest of food, the body sheds winter fat and filler The hair goes next, close to the gleaming, gleaming skull You are ready for the sun and the salt-tongued air You are someone new. I will be someone new, like you, and promise not to hear the rattle our bones make…

Read More

Confession by Countee Cullen

Confession …………………. If for a day joy masters me Think not my wounds are healed Far deeper than the scars you see I keep the roots concealed They shall bear blossoms with the fall I have their word for this Who tend my roots with rains of gall And suns of prejudice

Read More

SHO by DOUGLAS KEARNEY

A torchon after Indigo Weller Some need some Body or more to ape sweat on some site. Bloody purl or dirty spit hocked up for to show who gets eaten. Rig Body up. Bough bow to breeze a lazed jig and sway to grig’s good fiddling. Pine-deep dusk, a spot where stood Body. Thus they clap — when I mount banc’, jig up the lectern. Bow to say, “it’s all good,” we, gathered, withstood the bends of dives deep er, darker. They clap as I get down. Sweat highlights my body,…

Read More

فیض رسول فیضان ۔۔۔۔ سلام

سلام کیا جلوہ کربلا میں دکھایا حسینؓ نے سجدے میں جا کے سر کو کٹایا حسینؓ نے خوش بخت تھا کہ آپ کے قدموں پہ آگرا سویا نصیب حُر کا جگایا حسینؓ نے نیزے پہ سر تھا اور زباں پر تھیں آیتیں قرآن اِس طرح بھی سنایا حسینؓ نے ناناؐ کے پاک نام پہ ہر چیز وار دی کچھ بھی نہ اپنے پاس بچایا حسینؓ نے صدمے سے قدسیوں کی بھی چیخیں نکل گئیں اصغرؓ کو جب گلے سے لگایا حسینؓ نے راہِ خدا میں جان کی بازی لگا گئے…

Read More

سعدیہ وحید … اعلیٰ صحافتی اقدار کے امین __ ارشاد احمد حقانی

اعلیٰ صحافتی اقدار کے امین …ارشاد احمد حقانی اب حرفِ تمنا کو سماعت نہ ملے گی بیچو گے اگر خواب تو قیمت نہ ملے گی سوچا ہی نہ تھا یوں بھی اُسے یاد رکھیں گے جب اُس کو بھلانے کی بھی فرصت نہ ملے گی (پیر زادہ قاسم) صحافی، کالم نویس اور دانشور ارشاد حقانی6 ستمبر 1928ء کو قصور میں پیدا ہوئے۔ارشاد احمد حقانی علم وادب کا ذخیرہ ہونے کے ساتھ ساتھ ایک بے باک اور نڈر صحافی تھے ۔ پنجاب یونیورسٹی سے اسلامیات اور تاریخ میں ایم اے کی…

Read More

FOR MY FRIENDS, IN REPLY TO A QUESTION by Safia Elhillo

FOR MY FRIENDS, IN REPLY TO A QUESTION I’m okay. And, of course, I’m not, but I go through the motions. I wake up to the alarm’s howl, even when the word in my body is no. I dress in livid colors. I blacken the hairs of each eyebrow. I bake & braise & pickle. I write & read & lose hours to the blur of the television. I sit for hours in the bath, my skin puckering. I don’t know if I’ll ever go home again. I don’t know who I’ve seen…

Read More