So we have all heard of, among others, Agha Shahid Ali's experiments in English ghazal. Now, the incomparable Frances Pritchett introduces us to "some ghazal experiments in English by Janab Peter Hook Sahib 'Alone'.
"How can you speak so breezily to me?"
"What's hard for you comes easily to me!"
Indeed she was so kind as not to say
Why she behaves so cheesily to me.
"A million's not a miserly amount."
"From you it still looks measly to me."
Now eloquent now reticent he spoke
Then paused and turned uneasily to me.
'Alone', we haven't had our fill of rhyme...
No, no, we've yet to get our share of rhyme...
Or, better yet, to get our share in rhyme...
Or so it seems, increasingly, to me.
And some sh'rs I particularly liked:
Alone, we've had no luck in love.
Tonight we'll go for broke again.
She must have kept a whirlwind in her robe,
That he, like so much dust, was blown away.
Give it up, Alone. Haven't you
been Uncled, Saahibbed, Sirred enough?