I’m a Poet… in Seychelles!

Most people know me as the common-or-garden soulless, insensitive clod. They couldn’t be more wrong. I’m a poet. Yes siree, a bona-fide, card-carrying, licensed poet. Ask those chaps in Seychelles.

Check out the latest edition of SIPAY, one of the leading (or possibly the only) literary review journals in Seychelles. Your corner newsagent doesn’t have copies? No sweat: I’ve scanned and uploaded the relevant pages:

 (click to enlarge)

There you go. Pashupati Chatterji (that’s me) featured as the “Invited Poet”. Yusss, it doesn’t get more poetic than that. And just in case you think Seychelles is just that little island out there in the middle of a big blue ocean, let me tell you that there are more poets per square yard on Seychelles than any other place on the planet. What the Seychellois don’t know about poetry can be written on the back of a picture postcard. If they say I am a poet, I jolly well am.

Highly impressed by my winning Chansons Sans Frontiere 2014, their French-speaking editor Maggie invited me to submit as ‘featured poet’ a couple of poems for their quarterly/bi-annual literary journal. (From what I understand, it’s supposed to be quarterly, but they don’t usually get around to pushing out more than a couple per year). This journal, by the way, is in French, one of the three official languages of Seychelles, the others being English and Creole. All the brightest literary minds in Seychelles consider their day made if they get their stuff on it.

Maggie asked me to submit at least one poem on the theme of ‘I have a dream’ (j’ai un rêve). I submitted a little piece entitled ‘I have a dream… of rabbits’. OK, I never denied I was a soulless clod. Give me a soaring, inspirational theme and I will write a comic verse on it. You can see the French version in the last of the snapshots above.

Here is the English version (an adaptation, not an exact translation):-

I have a dream
By Poltu

I have a dream
Of Rabbits
Brown Rabbits
Black and Brown Rabbits
Rabbits eating lettuce
Green lettuce
Like Rabbits
Rabbits making out; Black and Brown Rabbits; in the park
In the midst of green lettuce
Like Rabbits
 
My psychiatrist is interested

I have a dream

Of Rabbits
Roast Rabbits
No, No. Poached Rabbits
Rabbits, Roast or Poached, on Toast
Welsh Rabbits
Oh hang on, those aren’t really rabbits.
Or are they?

Nevertheless, my psychiatrist is interested

Rabbits.

Breeding like rabbits
Rabbits, rabbits everywhere
But not a rabbit to Drink
Drunk Rabbits
Not drunk rabbits
Merely tipsy Rabbits
Rabbits driving under the influence

My psychiatrist is interested

Rabbits in my hair

Rabbits in the closet
Rabbits amongst the bottles of washing powder
And Shampoo
Rabbits washing and shampooing
Rabbits
No, no – the other rabbits.
The ones in my hair
With my cleansing products
I have a dream
Of Rabbits
Clean Rabbits.

My psychiatrist is interested

© Poltu 2015

And here is the English adaptation of another of the poems I submitted (a song, actually) – Les Mots de Malheur

 

Words of Woe
By Poltu

I found you a word in my dictionary:

Enchanting, like you, a dancing fairy
You found me another in your book of words:
Revolting, 'cause I’m strictly for the birds

I wish I could grab your stupid dictionary,
and replace it with one not quite so scary

I know we could be rapturous, gay and cheery,
if only I could fix that darn vocabulary

I found a couple in my Roget’s Thesaurus,
that describe you so perfectly: scrumptiously gorgeous

You found me five in your Synonym Finder:
Callow, numbskull, icky, Neanderthal, bounder

Who made all these words, I’d like to know?
Where do they come from, these mots of woe?

Why do we need all these words in our head?
We can get by with love, kiss, cuddle and bed

© Poltu 2015