A Primrose in Winter: poetry

Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Everyone has had to write poetry at some point in their lives. Whether they were coerced by a teacher or overwhelmed by emotion. Poetry is everywhere. It's in daily speech, it's in movement. It's in the way we express our emotions. Today I've decided to go back and look over the poetry I'd written in the past.

Whenever I write a poem I always feel like its terrible, mostly because it doesn't rhyme. But I've kept writing, bad poetry or not, and I like to think that I've improved.

"Earth Bound" (Written 2011)

I asked my mother

Why she wanted me to be so perfect

She looked at me and said I shouldn’t bother

Cuz’ perfect is not something that I can reach.

I don’t blame her really,

It’s myself that I blame

Since perfect is something that I need to be

I need it like the body needs oxygen

Become a doctor she says

But my hearts not in it

I want the rush of the wind on my face

The sound of millions of people clapping

The smell of roses in the air

The feeling of satisfaction after a difficult performance

She says I should settle for less

With silent thankyou’s from strangers

And the smiling face of my own child looking up at me.

I look at her and know

That nothing can be done

Because we are mother and daughter

And history repeats it’s self

Long ago she had the same dreams

Until someone told her she had flown too high

Too high for her little wings

So looking down she dropped to the ground

And settled for much less

My mother looks at me now and I see years of bound pain in her eyes

I can’t blame her

Because we are mother and daughter

And history repeats it’s self

History always repeats it’s self.

"Elegant but Lonely" (Written 2011)

Fair skinned, delicate features,

that’s who I am.

No lies, only an angelic creature.

I am like a hidden gem.

Only, what if no one sees?

The light shines brightly,

as everyone’s at ease.

All except for me, who is unsightly.

Their snickering fills my ears,

like hyenas laughing.

Waiters, carrying rich food.

They all pass by me.

People, all in a drunken mood

don’t stop to question what would be.

What would be?

A world without vanity?

There’s no guaranty.

All we have is our humanity.

Heavy jewels align everyone’s neck.

All I have is a simple golden chain.

A Waltz starts and people start to partner up.

No one moves toward me, though I hope in vain.

Who am I?

The outcast?

The vagabond?

Or am I just the girl who’s

daydreaming,

Staring at her reflection?

"Serendipity" (Written 2012)

It’s when you make a pleasant discovery.

Like receiving a second chance,

Or having a quick recovery.

Never revealed at first glance.

Always unexpectedly.

With it at your side, nothing can hold you back.

It sends your heart aflutter,

When it sneaks up behind you like a wisecrack.

It’s an unexpected gift from a stranger.

An opportunity.

Hidden Messages:

Down the river, Engulfed by the current

Oh Ophelia. Mad. Lost forever.

Are you alright?

Have your colors run?

Did they leave you black & and white?

Through the looking glass you fell

Spiraling endlessly into a maze of hell.

But in darkness the colors swim to the surface.

Delusive lights shine bright at night, a kerosene fire,

I feel the calling, singing to my desire.

I am the ever changing crimson phoenix,

Molded to fit a certain cast, I rebel only to reform.

My heritage stays true throughout my transformations

I cast off skins

But retain the same ignitions.

Peace, Love, and Hijabs,

Naila <3

Your body is a temple. It is your home. You should take care of it and feel comfortable in it. Lately I've been noticing that many of my female friends have been prone to putting themselves down. They refuse to believe that they are beautiful and find it hard to accept compliments. I'm guilty of doing this too. I think that to stop "Body Shaming" we need start with accepting ourselves. There are going to be so many people who want to put you down, why put your own self down?

Open Testimony

Your daughter is brave.

A soldier going to war

She refuses to look back.

Her shoulders are steel bars

Carrying the world.

Her face is a battle ground.

Every feature a scar,

Left open to fester.

The planes of her stomach have trenches.

White and narrow, they hold her secrets.

The backs of her legs are ammunition.

They are the escape plan.

Ready to seek cover. To aim and fire.

Your daughter is brave.

She carries the evidence of a great war

Camouflaged, on her soul.

When she smiles you see the refugees,

Hiding in plain sight, seeking shelter.

Your daughter is brave.

She cracked the code

A mirror image,

The enemy always stares back.

Stay Positive!

Peace, Love, and Hijabs,

Naila

In my AP Lit class we're reading Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. I must say that it is a lot better then most of the dystopian novels out now. Bradbury not only creates a interesting world way ahead of his time, but does it while questioning what it truly means to have knowledge. Not just knowing things but having the freedom to pursue knowledge and awareness. Imagine a world were firefighters don't put out fires but start them. Imagine a world books are burned and suicide is expected. Scary right?

One of the most interesting characters in F451 is Mildred, wife of the protagonist, Guy Montag. The first time I met Mildred she had committed suicide. So far (I haven't finished the book yet) Mildred seems to have two personalities, one that is air headed and has no real worries and another so troubled that it comes out in only her darkest hours. To me Mildred is a puzzle because it isn't clear why she acts the way she does. It seems at times that she is stubbornly blind and ignorant. Bellow is a poem I wrote from Guy to Mildred.

"From Guy to Mildred"

Lost in a labyrinth of ignorance
Your mind is a complete mystery
In one ear out the other
Do you even remember?
Cold nights spent in a gray scale world
You zone out, only to neglect yourself.
The others around
Become characters in the background
Faded to black.

Where did you go?
What led you to fall
On your own sword?
Like Ophelia
Had your mind wandered down the river
Engulfed by the current
Lost forever?
Or did you run and hide?
Like Hamlet?
Run from the truth into madness?
Only to see the ghosts from your past.

No matter how deep
Your labyrinth goes
Just know, I'll be waiting
At the end.

I hope you all have a wonderful week :)

Peace, Love, and Hijabs,

Naila

I don't know if it's just me but, whenever I feel down I want to vanish. Sometimes I just can't take the people and stress of everyday life. Or when someones putting me down, I wonder why I even try. These moments are of course very rare, but I suspect that as a teenager they are normal? I mean that archetype of the depressed, I-hate-everyone teenager sometimes fits the bill. When I was in middle school I swore that I would never care about what others thought, or become self conscious, or be depressed about life. But here I am. While most of my peers want to become adults, I just want to be 10 again. I had fun in high school, but I had more fun being me in middle school. Sad, isn't it?

I wrote this poem during one of my random bouts of depression:

"Introverted"

Let's become small

Like the stars on the sky

Disappearing from sight

In the light

Only to appear at night

Lets shrink from view

Like flowers in the winter

Closing off from the world

When it becomes too cold

Only to burst with a twirl

Lets keep our thoughts to ourselves

When reality gets harsh

And it's only safe inside

It's only me in my mind

Appearing when I decide it's my time.

Thanks you soooo much for reading!

Peace, Love, and Hijabs,

Nailla

You know that moment when you're about to fall asleep but come up with something brilliant? You tell yourself you'll remember it in the morning, but you never do. That has happened to me one too many times. So last Thursday when I fell into my bed feeling as though I had just ran a marathon, and the first line of a poem popped into my head, I forced myself to get up and write it down.

This is the first poem:

Clipped wings
Shackled down
I keep my face upward
Searching the stormy clouds
Praying for blue skies.
I look to the past
To remember the lessons of the future.
Broken free
Keeping restraint
I pass my wisdom onward.

And the second poem I wrote the same night:

Triumph

Born out of the ashes of loss and hope
I am the phoenix of retribution.
Molded to fit a certain cast
I rebel only to reform.
My heritage stays true
Throughout my transformations
I cast off skins
But retain the same ignitions.

Thanks for reading!

Peace, Love, and Hijabs,

Niala

I've decided to start something called Poetic Sundays. I like to write and I don't want to loose touch with my writing once I go to college, so hopefully having this once a week post will force me to write something every week. :)

The piece below is something I've been working on for about a month. I'm going to be reading it at the Scholastic Center in Soho, Manhattan on June 22. It was hard to write because I didn't know where I wanted to go with the poem. I knew that I wanted to talk about my mother, but my mother is a vast subject and I had to narrow it down.

The poem was actually originally a college essay.

The Constellations In My Life

The stories and wishes of our parents before us

Compose part of who we are today.

These subtle connections bind us,

In this way we are connected.

So connected that it’s hard to distinguish one person from another.

You are unique they say.

How unique am I, I ask?

There’s 7 billion people in the world.

Statistically it’s impossible that anyone is unique.

99.9% of me is almost the same as you.

It’s that .1% that makes all the difference.

I like to think that the .1% encompasses all of our experiences in life.

All of the heartache and adventure.

That .1% leads us to say things like “You don’t understand me.”

“You don’t even know me.”

That .1% leads to war, discrimination, rape, and misunderstandings.

That .1% is to be or not to be.

That is the questions, whether tis nobler to follow someone else’s path of right.

Or better to carve my own way

Through the ocean of 7 billion

Beating against the current of status quo

Going against the grain, the the path less traveled.

There’s woman in the audience, the one in the back row,

I was born to her amidst the sweltering Bengali summer

She carved her way through an ocean

With a three year old in one hand, a luggage in another

She had mild suspicion as she crossed the Atlantic

Traveling to a distant land where a man lives

Attached to her through a ring and a promise.

Foreign but not quite.

There’s woman in the audience, the one in the back row,

She a mastermind, an evil genius. Though she seems like an innocent little lady,

She’s been plotting since before I was born

Because where I come from,

Newborn girls need to hit the ground running.

Hurdling through years of misogynies and preconceived notions.

Pushing past rape culture and patriarchalism.

We must be prepared to fight teeth and hair for our rights.

We must be independent and fierce on the inside.

Perfect ladies on the outside.

So I imagine her plotting, that woman in the audience, the one in the back row,

Devising ways to ensure my success.

She calls me Rhydee, her heart.

They call me Nishat, My Nom-de-plume.

Nishat a name that appears on all my papers.

Her plans worked out fine

I keep my head in the clouds with my feet planted firmly on the ground.

Like the Buddhist monk who consulted my stars

I strive to do her justice.

Always moving, never idle.

I dream of the Greats.

Amelia Earhart, Genghis Khan, Indira Gandhi

N. I. The I in Nishat is for inspired.

I may live to be at least 79 years old.

But that doesn’t mean I should wait until 30 to accomplish something.

I imagine her, the woman in the audience, the one in the back row

I imagine her sitting

In a cacoon of nothingness

And dreaming of the future

When the present is unbearable

And the past holds no comfort.

All alone, though not quite

She is a survivor.

Savior, salvager. The s in Nishat is for survivor.

She consulted with a Buddhist monk

The one who read my stars.

My stars said I’d endure any burden thrown my way.

So I took charge when the woman in the audience, the one in the back row

was diagnosed with Lupus, an incurable autoimmune disease.

N. I. S. H. The H in Nishat stands for happy because I’m always smiling, no matter what.

Because as Rudy Francisco said

Some days

Life is a pile of dirty clothes

And laughter is the only clean shirt you have left.

N. I. S. H. A. T. A .T. the last two letters in my name.

Always thankful.

I am always thankful to that woman in the the audience, the one in the back row.

And I am always thankful to the man sitting next to her.

My parents sacrificed so much for my brother and me.

They sold their souls.

Signed away their liveliness, friends, and comfort

To take the path less traveled by.

They went against the current, traveling over not one ocean but two

the Atlantic and the Indian.

For me.

And I am always thankful for that.

And I will always love them for that.

Peace,Love, and Hijabs,

Niala

On Expectations

Expectations can ruin lives. The heavy burden of what another human wants you to be, to do, to lie... These burdens shape your life until suddenly your life becomes someone elses. You try to live someone else's idea of perfect. Until suddenly, one day you wake up and you realize that your life was a lie. You have no thoughts or dreams. You may think you do, but you don't. They were someone else's.

Expectations set you up for disappointment. You build up your hopes and daydream your way into a perfect ideas of what something or someone will be like.

Very rarely are our expectations fulfilled. So why do we continue to have them? Because it's human nature. We're impatient for perfection. But perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Expectations allow us to hope. They allow us to manifest our dreams. Expectations give us drive. If Socrates didn't have any expectations for his students, would Plato or Aristotle have continued on their path of geniusness?

Necessity may be the mother of all inventions, but expectation is the nourishment. Expectations allow us to keep marching on.

Stay Positive <3