This poem was written to address the topic of Van Gogh eating yellow paint. The intentions of this poem are to touch on the fact that it is believed he ate yellow paint because yellow is a “happy” color and it would put the happiness inside him, but to showcase his real reason was because
My relationship with my alleged mother tongue Arabic has been everything from challenging and isolating to welcoming and loving, especially having English feel like home to me when in fact, sometimes it feels like it’s not mine to claim. So, after listening to Melissa’s poem, I wrote this in a frenzy at 3 am. If
Everyone seems to know what we should be and what makes one a woman. Everyone thinks that a woman either physically looks like worn out sheets in burnt out Soho, eye bags decorated on each eye like designer bags in the last seasons. Either you’re in your 30s to 40s; a woman is never measured
Following the election, I found myself nestling most of my ire and emotions into my chest. I didn’t write much about it, particularly in poetry, mostly because I didn’t want to be met with the harsh revelation of the country’s given state. Now, a few months later, I found myself combing through what was truly needing to claw out of
I write this poem in a poetry class I took in university recently. My professor and many students were overcome with grief about the mosque shooting in Quebec City that took the lives of six men in January of 2017. My professor, a poet herself, assigned us homework for the week: to write a poem,
I wrote this poem for a spoken word project for my Performing Arts class. I had been searching for inspiration, and I finally found it in the song “Saturn” by Sleeping At Last. This poem was originally meant to be spoken over the song, but I think it can be just as beautiful when read.
In mythology, the tale of Psyche and Eros (who is more commonly known as cupid) is of the saddest. Psyche is taken by Eros to live in his beautiful mansion and is only allowed his company when the sun is carried away. In the dark, she is unable to see her lover, and after a
“Solace in My Oceans of Tears” Tears flowed down my cheek As rapids behave with a river. Detaching from you made me weak. Your name delivers a painful quiver. Heavy thought of you remind me of what once was good. Your presence was gentle, and it brought forth tranquility. While you could be found, I
This poem was written to describe the dysphoria I feel in my everyday life so that others can see my perspective, possibly relate to it, and maybe even find comfort in knowing that someone understands how they are feeling. When I wrote this poem, I felt suffocated and trapped because I had spent the entire
There was a mix of inspirations that went into this poem. Nearly two years ago, I had been having this reoccurring dream of someone I had once loved walking into the ocean, and I couldn’t save them from the water swallowing them whole. It wasn’t until a friend of mine told me to write this
Have you ever felt as if your reflection is speaking to you? Sometimes the words are encouraging, kind even, things like “Wow, you look great today!” or “Girl, slay!”. But other times, it feels as if your reflection is yelling cruel, hurtful things at you. The words feel like knives against your soul, they break your
There was nothing out of the ordinary happening today, my dear friend cancelled our dinner plans and so I carried on with my day. I spent most of it daydreaming if you must know. As time wasted away, I found myself quarreling with an intruding thought that entered my brain. I argued that though uncontrollable, with
