Guest Post (Raju Tai) - Poem 105: Today

Frank O'Hara

Hello mandali - kasa kai? surviving? Hang in there people. First things first let me just quickly share with you the poets (and linked poems) that yesterday’s Cento borrowed lines from - The title of course references Agha Shahid Ali. The other poems are by Margaret Atwood, Georgi Belev, Octavio Paz, Raju Tai (poem linked at the bottom of the post), Adam Zagajewski, Mary Oliver, Kaissar Afif, Priya Sarukkai Chabria, E.V. Ramakrishnan, Pat Schneider, Ada Limón, e.e. cummings, K Srilata, Julia Hartwig, Lucille Clifton. That’s out of the way. Now…

I think today’s guest post will definitely raise your spirits. Raju Tai’s in the house!

Those of you who’ve been here from the beginning have perhaps encountered Raju Tai’s poetry. Her poem ‘Coke Studio Pakistan: Songs from Another Country’ was posted almost 2 years ago to the day - the third Poetly post. I have introduced Tai’s work so many times that I was unsure what to say this time that hasn’t been already said. As I discussed this problematic thing that is the bio with her, she told me ki kuch nahi tho ‘friend of Poetly’.

Right. Bas. Sometimes it is good to keep quiet and let the poetry do the talking. Raju Tai’s commentary to Frank O’Hara’s “today” poem, is as present as her poetry. I have found that whatever she shares with me, and with Poetly, is doused with an urgent yet gentle nowness. It brings me to the present moment, in a spurt of concentrated energy, and as I sit there, in the little patch of sunlit pavement she’s dusted for me, slowly the world around me starts finding form. I do not personally know any other poet with this startling capacity, and what she has given to Poetly, and me, cannot be distorted into language. I am happy to be sharing with you a guest post by Poetly’s best friend.

Over the years I have come to love a niche kind of poetry. The kind that can be used in therapy, as therapy. Poems that can be prayed with, or surrendered to. I would meditate upon poems that seem to be written after years of meditation by the poet. I bowed down to the likes of Mary Oliver, David Whyte, Jane Hirschfield, Wendell Berry. I made it my purpose to read and write only such poems, poems that rubbed in the tiger balm of truth on our foreheads, when our skulls ache with fake discourse.

This was until I came across a poem by Frank O’Hara. It did not heal me, it did not impregnate me with any spiritual truth, it did not offer me space for grief and acceptance, mindfulness and gutfulness, nor did it validate or soothe my latest suffering. It simply refreshed me. It splashed water on my face. It asked me to stop taking serious poems so seriously! O’Hara’s ‘Poem 105: Today’ is a tangy pickle piece in your mouth that makes you squeeze your eyes shut in delight. It poked my mighty ambition of writing poems that heal, and asked: Can you refresh? Can you surprise? Can you finally be your witty and cute self?

I hunt for poems that can be used in the classroom, that are not only delicious to eat, but also leave a map to write an inspired poem. Frank O’Hara’s ‘Today’ can easily become our ‘Today’ if we replace his delights with what we saw today but forgot to notice since we woke up, Kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas, with kokam curry, ghunghroos, safety pins; pearls, harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins, with Hajmolas, lemongrass, ikat masks, ping pong balls. If a MoMA art curator like O’Hara can find beauty in these ordinary creations, no matter if they are natural or not, why not us? Go ahead, try it out:

Oh! ________, _________, _________!
You really are beautiful! _______,
_________, _________, _________! all
the stuff they’ve always talked about

still makes a poem a surprise!
These things are with us every day
even on _________ and _________. They
do have meaning. They’re strong as rocks.

P.S. If you haven’t already, make sure you meet the other poems that she has shared with Poetly - A Nation from Scratch, New Language. You can also meet her other poems in a recording of the poetry reading held last year, on Poetly’s first birthday. I had called the event ‘New Language’, a title that was inspired by the poem with the same name.

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