Tumgik
#tishani doshi
smokefalls · 1 year
Quote
Do not bother with stars. / They are for romantics (who are not happy / people).
Tishani Doshi, “How to be Happy in 101 Days” from Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods
33 notes · View notes
iviaggisulcomo · 1 year
Text
Alla fine, qualcosa ci farà allontanare. Vorrei sperare in qualche grande circostanza – la morte o un cataclisma. Ma potrebbe anche non essere per niente così. Potrebbe essere che tu esca un mattino dopo aver fatto l’amore per comprare le sigarette, e non tornare più, o che io m’innamori di un altro. Potrebbe essere un lento abbandono all’indifferenza. Ad ogni modo, dovremo imparare a sopportare il peso dell’eventualità che qualcosa ci farà allontanare. Allora perché non cominciare adesso, mentre la tua testa riposa come una luna perfetta nel mio grembo e i cani guaiscono sulla spiaggia? Perché non strappare il cielo di questa notte indiana, solo un po’, così che inizi la caduta? Poiché dopo, incontrandoci per le strade, dovremo guardare dall’altra parte, dopo aver gettato i frammenti negletti del nostro essere insieme nei cassetti della camera da letto, quando l’odore dei nostri corpi sta svanendo come la dolce marcescenza dei gigli – allora come lo chiameremo, quando non sarà più amore?
Tishani Doshi
22 notes · View notes
mangoslixes · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
june 5: poetry
Dusk: a blade of honey between our shadows, draining.
I have a lot of poetry books that I bought over time and these five are the ones that were in my line of sight. While Ocean Vuong's poems are slightly bit more closer to my heart for obvious reasons, Tishani Doshi's poems echo in a familiar way. Besides, her poem simping for Patrick Swayze was always recited dramatically amongst friends, so it's a personal favourite.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
71 notes · View notes
poem-today · 1 year
Text
A poem by Tishani Doshi (for Valentine’s Day)
Tumblr media
Love Poem
Ultimately, we will lose each other to something. I would hope for grand circumstance —  death or disaster. But it might not be that way at all. It might be that you walk out one morning after making love to buy cigarettes, and never return, or I fall in love with another man. It might be a slow drift into indifference. Either way, we’ll have to learn to bear the weight of the eventuality that we will lose each other to something. So why not begin now, while your head rests like a perfect moon in my lap, and the dogs on the beach are howling? Why not reach for the seam in this South Indian night and tear it, just a little, so the falling can begin? Because later, when we cross each other on the streets, and are forced to look away, when we’ve thrown the disregarded pieces of our togetherness into bedroom drawers and the smell of our bodies is disappearing like the sweet decay of lilies —  what will we call it, when it’s no longer love?
Tumblr media
Tishani Doshi 
Listen to Tishani Doshi read her poem.
More poems by Tishani Doshi are available on her website.
7 notes · View notes
noleavestoblow · 1 year
Text
Find the poets, my friend said. They will not speak of the things you and I speak about. They will not speak of economic integration or fiscal consolidation.
They could not tell you anything about the burden of adjustment.
But they could sit you down and tell you how poems are born in silence and sometimes, in moments of great noise, of how they arrive like the rain, unexpectedly cracking open the sky.
They will talk of love, of course, as if it were the only thing that mattered, about chestnut trees and mountain tops, and how much they miss their dead fathers.
They will talk as they have been talking for centuries, about holding the throat of life, till all the sunsets and lies are choked out, till only the bones of truth remain.
The poets, my friend, are where they have always been— living in paper houses without countries, along rivers and in forests that are disappearing.
And while you and I go on with life remembering and forgetting,
the poets remain: singing, singing.
-Tishani Doshi
3 notes · View notes
molkolsdal · 2 years
Text
The Immigrant's Song
BY TISHANI DOSHI
Let us not speak of those days
when coffee beans filled the morning
with hope, when our mothers' headscarves
hung like white flags on washing lines.
Let us not speak of the long arms of sky
that used to cradle us at dusk.
And the baobabs—let us not trace
the shape of their leaves in our dreams,
or yearn for the noise of those nameless birds
that sang and died in the church's eaves.
Let us not speak of men,
stolen from their beds at night.
Let us not say the word
                                            disappeared.
Let us not remember the first smell of rain.
Instead, let us speak of our lives now—
the gates and bridges and stores.
And when we break bread
in cafés and at kitchen tables
with our new brothers,
let us not burden them with stories
of war or abandonment.
Let us not name our old friends
who are unravelling like fairy tales
in the forests of the dead.
Naming them will not bring them back.
Let us stay here, and wait for the future
to arrive, for grandchildren to speak
in forked tongues about the country
we once came from.
Tell us about it, they might ask.
And you might consider telling them
of the sky and the coffee beans,
the small white houses and dusty streets.
You might set your memory afloat
like a paper boat down a river.
You might pray that the paper
whispers your story to the water,
that the water sings it to the trees,
that the trees howl and howl
it to the leaves. If you keep still
and do not speak, you might hear
your whole life fill the world
until the wind is the only word.
7 notes · View notes
solvaaya · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
How to be Happy in 101 Days by Tishani Doshi. Text ID under cut.
[Text ID: Offer your bones to someone. Clavicles are the chief seducers of the human body. When you hear the snap, allow yourself a shudder. Find a tree to hold all the faces of your dead—their hair, their rings. Hang their solemn portraits from branches. If you cannot find happiness in death you will not complete the course. ]
3 notes · View notes
nsantand · 11 months
Text
Tishani Doshi - Poema de Amor
No fim, perderemos um ao outro / para alguma coisa. Espero que seja algo / grandioso - morte ou desastre. / Mas pode não ser assim. / Pode ser que você saia / uma manhã para comprar cigarros, / depois de fazermos amor, e nunca mais volte, (...)
No fim, perderemos um ao outropara alguma coisa. Espero que seja algograndioso – morte ou desastre.Mas pode não ser assim.Pode ser que você saiauma manhã para comprar cigarros,depois de fazermos amor,e nunca mais volte,ou eu me apaixone por outro homem.Pode ser um lento distanciamento em direção à indiferença.Seja como for, teremos que aprendera suportar a possibilidade de que…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
wonderness · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Tishani Doshi, from “Listening to Abida Parveen on Loop, I Understand Why I Miss Home and Why It Must Be So”
0 notes
metamorphesque · 2 months
Text
💌 poems for the month of love 💌
Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara
The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel
Wait For Me by Konstantin Simonov (tr. by Mike Munford)
A Kiss on the Forehead by Marina Tsvetaeva
Love by Joseph Brodsky
Your Unripe Love by Paruyr Sevak (from “Anthology of Armenian poetry")
Love poem by Tishani Doshi 
Maybe Under Some Other Sky by Willie Perdomo
Warming Her Pearls by Carol Ann Duffy
Ich finde dich (I find you) by Rainer Maria Rilke
Where does such tenderness come from? by Marina Tsvetaeva
I Loved You by Alexander Pushkin
Like a Small Café, That’s Love by Mahmoud Darwish (translated by Mohammad Shaheen)
Our Story by William Stafford
The Kiss by Sara Teasdale
3K notes · View notes
llovelymoonn · 11 months
Text
favourite poems of may
david baker whale fall
gary fincke the girl who breathes through a hole in her neck
gerald stern loneliness
mary oliver music lesson
chen jun in the kitchen (tr. ming di)
arthur sze pe’ahi light
jennifer elise foerster leaving tulsa: “leaving tulsa”
caconrad lonely deep affection
tishani doshi girls are coming out of the woods: “how to be happy in 101 days”
joshua corey mrs. god
kamau brathwaite born to slow horses: “bread”
jennifer kwon dobbs paper pavilion: “digital archive”
kimberly nguyen pregnant pauses
lucille clifton the book of light: “brothers”
pippa little the summer i lived as a wolf
natasha sajé alive
marjorie meeker colour of water
rae armantrout veil: new and selected poems: “dusk”
yi sang au magasin de nouveautes (tr. sawako nakayasu)
tracy k. smith wade in the water: “dusk”
billy collins the breather
leah umansky unleashed
javier zamora how i learned to walk
jacob trapp portrait
satoru sato susuki and dragonflies
jinhao xie moonlight
maya emilia another bomb set off in
eleanor ross tayler captive voices: “against the kitchen wall”
giovanna lomanto i’ll pray for you when you leave
mary oliver in the blackwater woods
natalie diaz when my brother was an aztec: “abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation”
support this blog
172 notes · View notes
smokefalls · 1 year
Quote
This is how desire works: splintering first, then joining.
Tishani Doshi, “Rain at Three” from Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods
43 notes · View notes
Note
what are some books you'd recommend? poetry or fiction or otherwise?
books :)
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Black Swan Green by David Mitchell
Madness: A Bipolar Life by Marya Hornbacher
Let Me Tell You What I Mean by Joan Didion
poetry :)
Dearly by Margaret Atwood
Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong
Book of Haikus by Jack Kerouac
Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods by Tishani Doshi
7 notes · View notes
galina · 2 years
Note
Hi!
I just finished reading The Water Cure from your book recs on your blog. Gosh! What a brilliant novel! It broke my heart into so many pieces and then mended it back again. I had to stop reading so many times just to catch my breath. It is such a powerful novel! It somehow reminded me of Tishani Doshi's poem 'Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods'.
P.S. thanks for mentioning Companion Piece. Read it, loved it - of course!
Thanks once again for your blog. 🧡
oh my gosh, yes, the water cure was everywhere when it came out but I don't see people talk about it much now – it really is the perfect summer horror. if you liked that are 'girls are coming out..', you might also like daisy johnson's sisters. of course, of course, only smith could pull of a fifth to a quartet and have it be tremendous. thank U for being so sweet n kind x
30 notes · View notes
steelycunt · 1 year
Note
one of my fav poems is how to be happy in 101 days by tishani doshi it's not very popular on here as far as i'm aware but i think it's really great :)
ooh i havent read that one before!! i really liked it thank you!! (poem here) :-))
5 notes · View notes
noleavestoblow · 1 year
Text
People around you grow old and die, and it’s explained as a kind of going away – to God, or rot, or to return as an ant. And once again, you’re expected to be calm about the fact that you’ll never see the dead again, never hear them enter a room or leave it, never have them touch the soft parting of your hair.
―Tishani Doshi
2 notes · View notes