Autophony

All they need is a young mind, raw from within and hurt by the deep scars of history. Some come as india ink on paper - called Koran, or Bible or Geeta— indoctrinated into the brain by incessant repetition. Some as the chants of priests and monks, in strange intonations often accompanied by incense. Or blasted from loudspeakers, a call to arms against imagined foes. They all leave scars, fresh for a new generation to be inked. Not everything requires a sterilised steel needle. This is one half of a tapestry poem with Shernaz Wadia, first published at  RateMyLiterature.com . View the full tapestry here . What is tapestry poetry?

This summer I made a bonfire of my loves. Beneath the pregnant clouds and still air Of the sweltering nights, as the breeze died, My remembrances of us together - yellow Like the oleander, thespesia and laburnum - I let them burn, and lend themselves to the ash. They scatter as the rising wind whistles, playing Chinese whispers with the fresh-leaved trees; The dust has a new smell: rain at last, rain at last! This is one half of a tapestry poem with Shernaz Wadia, first published at RateMyLiterature.com  and republished at  tapestrypoetry.webs.com . View the full tapestry here . What is tapestry poetry?