Blessing the Journey (Poetry)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDGK-nnytao Blessing The Journey, after Lucille Clifton. may barren journeyscradle you into new purpose.as the stillness of the shores,soothe and cease from upswelling.and you find serenity in stillness.as the tide now becomes subdued. may fear be arid;droughted and dearth.as an oasis of confidence upsurge around you;dousing all you seek.and the veil of anxiety lay bare.as … Continue reading Blessing the Journey (Poetry)

My Taste For Rain Has Changed (Poetry)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWyNhUrLKVI WORDS (My Taste For Rain Has Changed): my taste for rain has changedI no longer cry storms.my taste for thunder begun,when my feet vowed to return. my taste for rain on arid soil,the dawn begunand with the weather I was overi vowed my storm will return. Under the faint sky,my taste for rain evolved.Grew … Continue reading My Taste For Rain Has Changed (Poetry)

Black Sheep (Poetry)

WORDS:clearing out the truths in my closeti find another.amidst the chaos and the calm,there drapes the dark woollen coat.persistently promising to always be in vogue.its length smiles at my older selfits warmth laughs at my latter daysits style larks at the former selfits size beams in my early agetelling me its elegance is graspedat a … Continue reading Black Sheep (Poetry)

Ask (Poetry)

WORDS: she asks herself and asks again. as her voice breaks like floral porcelains, she picks up the pieces. it hurts, it takes time. for the little pieces perforates and sinks into the hands like the painful memories. there she pulls the shards and plaster the wound. silence reminds her that she has been here … Continue reading Ask (Poetry)

Arson (Poetry)

  WORDS:at the dark red dusk, the monsoon flooded raining kerosene and paraffin trickles of oil lashed like lightning leaving imprint on wooden windowsthe flames upraising like an anthem and we asked our bloodshot eyes to stop chantingwith smoke engraved in our parched coughingwe watch the arid commodities burn with the heat.red spices and brown … Continue reading Arson (Poetry)

Shame (Poetry)

  WORDS: a shame is coming, lurking over the horizon. it hisses, coughs and laughs.wanting its presence known. brewing in hatred for reputation refusing to revere character. on its arrival they tried to fleebillowing into the distanceswallowing galls of mistakespreceding this life was fullan opportune to live recklessly laughing not crying yetflashbacks strike like lighteningand … Continue reading Shame (Poetry)

Poetry Analysis: When We Two Parted by Lord Bryon (1788–1824)

Poem When we two partedIn silence and tears,Half broken-heartedTo sever for years,Pale grew thy cheek and cold,Colder thy kiss;Truly that hour foretoldSorrow to this.The dew of the morningSunk chill on my brow –It felt like the warningOf what I feel now.Thy vows are all broken,And light is thy fame;I hear thy name spoken,And share in … Continue reading Poetry Analysis: When We Two Parted by Lord Bryon (1788–1824)

Lesson From A Paper Crane (Poetry)

  WORDS:Examine the flailing weeks fold itself like paper;as it cuts the days, tucks in the minutes and creases the seconds.cocooning into an origami of the things it strives fortill it calls into the calmest crane.forgetting a thousand cranes brings luckbut this one is troubled; creased by a thousandyet it doesn’t sink in its despondencebut … Continue reading Lesson From A Paper Crane (Poetry)

Injustice (Poetry)

WORDS: vacuum darkens the mind. with the skin pleading against the light, there the sears of charcoalsinge the barren skin and kerosene swimsinto the blisters. the scratch of the match becomes,the last melody she hears.ashes to ashes, death whiplashes and the final breath rises with the smoke. the husks of the burning bodydiscardedunder the stellar … Continue reading Injustice (Poetry)

The Heron Across The Black Lake (Poetry)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GpDt_-CObQ i. my word is a heron trying to swallow its fishbut the bare bones spike against the bitter bills. across the hill over the black lake drowns the words that i cannot say. ii. so i find solace in echoes of the skybut do not seek the lineage callfor the clouds swallow softlywhen they … Continue reading The Heron Across The Black Lake (Poetry)

3 AM (Poetry)

WORDS: at 3.am the news wades on the white Calla- lily porcheach held breath praysprobing for the serenity of the things that yesterday cannot change. the opulent ivory door laments for the two pulsating hearts denying rational thoughts as silence slays the hopeof going back to sleep whole. no longer wadingits presence satiates the room … Continue reading 3 AM (Poetry)

An Analysis of Maps by Doug Hoekstra

Carrying maps we movethrough battlegrounds and trails,roadways, displays andmuseums built of alabasteron swamps in cities marked withEuropean names Following blue lines, red circlesstreet signs and highway markerscompass points and scalemeasuring distance between placesand distant constellationsthat will one day disappearSlipping into another formcatching glimpses of the futurecherished and held inour collective past, pressedbetween magnetic pagesreframed and … Continue reading An Analysis of Maps by Doug Hoekstra

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Five: For Me by Hannah Williams

if i could change a thoughtand have clarity transparent like a brook i would think for me. if i could contemplate a dreamand have a labour that dawns it into realityi would dream for me. if i could say a word and have courage that never relents i would speak for me. if i could … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Five: For Me by Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Four: A Land of Honey and Milk by Hannah Williams

a silhouette shawled in titanium with footsteps soft as silk. a graceless poise pierces the back promising a land of honey and milk a shadow tattered in light with sight dark as void a sinister compassionate misled the feet promising a land of honey and milk a shape stirred in sorrow with tears dripping as … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Four: A Land of Honey and Milk by Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘On the Black Canal’ by Helen Tookey

Your boat is moored on the black canal and the woman is playing the cello for you, long low notes the colour of crows’ wings. You are a sound-box, air vibrates inside your bones as each note elongates, a dark expanse –are you under her protection, or is it a baffle she draws around you, … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘On the Black Canal’ by Helen Tookey

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Three-Journey By Hannah Williams

When the sight glazed across the journey, the lips let out a prayer so swift like the years of the youth. The feet walks casually imprinting its mark. Yet, no one remembers the hand that adorned the feet  nor the language that taught it how to walk. An inscription stronger than titanium and more permanent … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Three-Journey By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Two-Lament By Hannah Williams

building hands bristled and bruised turns heaviness into light and the ugly tears streaming from the broken but beautiful hearts ask the fragmented hope to forget thy not and rejoice to remember thee not as a song, not as prayer but it rises in that similitude above the firmament and encircling the sky it asks … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Two-Lament By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty One-Chandelier By Hannah Williams

When emotions are excessive and the mind cannot cope.  Close the eyes and imagine each strand. Dangling like chandelier pieces. A glistening ray of hope beacons. A festivity of light dances in the mind. Hold the light. Hold the hope. Let it fizzle the fear. Can you hear the crystals chorus and the diamond note. … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty One-Chandelier By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Nine- Frown Lines

When the voice was stolen and she could sing no more, the frown formed and the lines found solace on her face. In her silence, it defended her. A world where hostility determines if you’re victimised and she’d rather be the victor. So she put it on each morning. After all, you cannot report expressions … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Nine- Frown Lines

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Eight- Why Did You Follow Me?

Before deciding to walk in her shoes let her show you her feet. The callous blisters tarnished by the stones who decided to dance on her soles. Yet she walking barefoot across the equator with the red soil tarnishing the pigments of her skin. When she crossed the ocean, borders poured cold water which began … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Eight- Why Did You Follow Me?

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Seven: Echoes By Hannah Williams

As the television transmits the news unable to peel the callous layers of her mind. She owns a seared conscience which no longer flinch at the vivid violent paintings on her screen. When the hunger of little children hums- she no longer feels guilty. When the injustice harmonises with the defenceless- it no longer warrants … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Seven: Echoes By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Six: There Will Always Be A Rainbow By Hannah Williams

A rainbow formed after the raindrops and the sunlight kissed the vapour. Melting the chaos and illuminating the future. A reminder that when the storm becomes frightening and the sky thunders with lightning and the rays no longer shining and my fears become frightening. There will always be a rainbow. A rainbow formed after the … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Six: There Will Always Be A Rainbow By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Five: No Longer Collecting Thank You By Hannah Williams

I am collecting all the thank you I have ever received. I’m gathering them up to burn it and have it cremated. From here on hence, I don’t use them anymore. Or rather I’m not allowing people to use it on me.  I have crossed the ocean for you and seared my feet amongst volcanoes. … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Five: No Longer Collecting Thank You By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of Bitter Waters Translated By Shash Trevett

Bitter Waters (Translated by Shash Trevett) See these lines on my upturned palm. They are the rivers of tears that have washed my face. They are the rivers of blood that have washed my land. Flowing first in trickles, then streams and then in torrents: they are the swells of voices that have cried out … Continue reading An Analysis of Bitter Waters Translated By Shash Trevett

An Analysis of ‘The Silver Swan’ by Anon

The silver swan, who living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat, Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more: Farewell all joys, O death come close mine eyes, More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.         … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘The Silver Swan’ by Anon

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Four: Of Who We Are By Hannah Williams

What do you say to me? When you're done selling broken dreams? Whilst tears fall down my cheeks like bitter streams. In my search to redeem what could not be fixed. Instead of the tepid truth, You make promises on rainbows that didn't form after the rain. Your deception got me dancing on clouds. It … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Four: Of Who We Are By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Three: Imagine By Hannah Williams

Imagine a garden An elusive garden. You walk past the willow tree It reflects your silenced state. Yet you do not cry nor smile. You did that on your first visit. I did both on my second. This is together is our third. The wind knows our names. Yet it dares not trouble. Petals fall … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Three: Imagine By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Two- The Seed By Hannah Williams

A seed              seeking sunlight swells and sweats.  Through its seed coat.  Shooting taproot in the soil.  Submerged    it pokes its head through  the earth. Until it blooms, Soothed by the serene song of photosynthesis.    

An Analysis Of ‘A Guest May Come’ By Vojka Djikic

A Guest May Come by Vojka Djikic (Translated by Chris Agee) Hold on tight to me And we'll find the way home. There the fire's still burning And in the corners Book lie open That ought to be read And the garden's there to dig The roses to prune. Thus it was said When we … Continue reading An Analysis Of ‘A Guest May Come’ By Vojka Djikic

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty- Peace Stood Still Like A Tree By Hannah Williams

Peace stood still like a tree Asking the wind to call all nations both bond and free.  A valley of freedom we use to know Now drenched in yesterdays cold crimson conflict which overflows Blood became thicker than the lake's water. Nobody is their brother's keeper. Peace stood still like a tree Asking the wind … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty- Peace Stood Still Like A Tree By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Six- Illusions By Hannah Williams

When the moonlight reflects a mirage Wait for the sun to say it's an illusion. Don't rely on the mind which makes a faint figure Yet sight and sound tells us its called perception. Once materialised where do illusions go? Maybe above and beyond the fading rainbow.    

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Five- Not So Toxic By Hannah Williams

A song of poison spewed on the silent lips. She gathered it and let it salsa on her tongue. Then she showed her fangs slyly. To ignite fear in me. A warning sign that she is ready to sink deep within, Deep into my skin, she bites. The bite is not the worst, As she … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Five- Not So Toxic By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Four- The Kiss By Hannah Williams

I expected the earth to shift And oceans to be set adrift. At the spark of our lips Under this lunar eclipse. A soft song fluttered in my tongue Which birthed a love so young. It still makes my heart skip. To think of how your mouth danced on my lips.  

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Three- Acceptance Will Be My Duty By Hannah Williams

Like a peacock spreading its feathers, I span out my feelings. Like hands holding each other, I long for this meaning. Like petals to a flower, I seek my purpose and beauty. In this very hour, Acceptance will be by duty.

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Two- The Glass House By Hannah Williams

Look at my glass house but don't throw stones For sticks and stones may break my home. This fragile abode with a transparent gaze, Often leaves people amazed. So you see my in's and out. A glass house is like a vase. Prized. Fragile. Ornamented. Look deeper and you'll see my fears. For I was … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Two- The Glass House By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘Harlem Hopscotch’ by Dr Maya Angelou

One foot down, then hop! It's hot. Good things for the ones that's got. Another jump, now to the left. Everybody for hisself. In the air, now both feet down. Since you black, don't stick around. Food is gone, the rent is due. Curse and cry and then jump two. All the people out of … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘Harlem Hopscotch’ by Dr Maya Angelou

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty One- I Am Abstract By Hannah Williams

I am abstract. So you’d need to extract, What I mean with songs, paintings, words and emotions. My mind works in creative notions. Some days I ask- Am I a circle or a square? Or am I a shape that’s not even there? Could I be right and wrong at the same time? Black and … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty One- I Am Abstract By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty- Dear Daughter By Hannah Williams

I will not be able to calm the storm Nor promise you that I’d walk on water. Yet if you find yourself sinking. Remember like mother like daughter. I have had my share of drowning But you will not suffer. I have made my sacrifices for you, Because I want to be your mother.

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Nine- Limbo In A Promise By Hannah Williams

At a cross way with a cold chorus, Promise was left to be pious. On the right hand of promise was the infallible good. On the left hand of promise was the infallible bad. For Promise has the power to snap your decisions into two. So be benign when you, Cross your heart and hope … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Nine- Limbo In A Promise By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Eight- The Financial Crisis By Hannah Williams

The world has felt your wrath before. We felt your violent shake and your ravenous storm. We give new names to old gods. You were once the Latin American Sovereign debt. Then you reincarnated as the Asian crisis. Before you plagued us in all hemispheres and revealed your self as the Global Financial Crisis. We … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Eight- The Financial Crisis By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Seven: Consent by Hannah Williams

I say it with her. I say it for her. Then I let her say it with and for herself. We both learnt to say it. Before we are reduced. For you saw her innocence. What was it made of? It was laced with naivety Intricately woven with virtue. Hemmed with impeccability. You took each … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Seven: Consent by Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Six- Name Power By Hannah Williams

An unjustifiable criteria Determined by a crooked line Spewed out to split the equator into two. I’ve heard the names one half calls the other. To make it better the cunning half changed the terms. Less economically developed replaced poor. Regulation replaced corruption Grass root movements replaced unemployment. Parallels living in contradiction. So the oppressed … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Six- Name Power By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘One Continent to Another’By Grace Nichols

Like the yesterday of creation morning she had imagined this new world to be bereft of fecundity No she wasn't prepared for the sea that lashed fire that seared solid earth that delivered her up birds that flew not wanting to see the utter rawness of life everywhere and the men who seed the children … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘One Continent to Another’By Grace Nichols

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Five- Take Me By Hannah Williams

Take me to the river To wade by the water in the winter moonlight. In the depths of the river reflects a woman who drowned trying to grasp freedom. A man whose hopes of emancipation dangles around his neck. At the river bank lies children whose bodies are rooted in the ground as if they’re … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Five- Take Me By Hannah Williams

Book Review: The Sun And Her Flowers By Rupi Kaur

The Sun And Her Flowers is a poetry collection written by Rupi Kaur. This collection deals with a range of topics such as love, migration, self esteem, beauty and more importantly nature. These themes are discussed in an open, vulnerable and candid manner. We discover the reason the collection is titled 'The Sun and Her … Continue reading Book Review: The Sun And Her Flowers By Rupi Kaur

An Analysis Of ‘What The Dead Know By Heart’ By Donte Collins

What The Dead Know By Donte Collins (2017) lately, when asked how are you, i respond with a name no longer living Rekia, Jamal, Sandra, Philando i am alive by luck at this point, i wonder often: if the gun will unmake me is yet made, what white birth will bury me, how many bullets, like … Continue reading An Analysis Of ‘What The Dead Know By Heart’ By Donte Collins

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Four- The State Of Mind By Hannah Williams

I looked into her eyes and smiled. But what could smiling prove. When I could see me in her eyes. So my smiles were just lucid lies. Even though I could recognise her in me. My misconceptions were flying free. The hums of her cry is my lullaby, that wakes me up at night. But … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Four- The State Of Mind By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Three- The Great Silence By Hannah Williams

My mind is awake My mouth is numb. My soul a lake, I'm deaf and dumb. My mind is awake. My ears are dead. My senses fake, The great silence is fed. My mind is awake. My voice is gone. My soul a lake, Silence within me is done. My mind is awake. But I … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Three- The Great Silence By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘ You Will Hear Thunder And Remember Me’ By Anna Akhmatova

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the color of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire. That day in Moscow, it will all come true. When, for the last time, I take my leave, And hasten … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘ You Will Hear Thunder And Remember Me’ By Anna Akhmatova

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Two- The Stages of Negativity By Hannah Williams

Lost.  In the deep sea of my own desire. In the fortitude of peace my soul longs to retire. Hope is the song my voice wants to acquire. Inhaling the laziness of my acts as I respire. Toxic To the progression around me. The doubtful thoughts of my mind roam free. Let my thoughts just … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Two- The Stages of Negativity By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty One- The Dreamers Song By Hannah Williams

Dreams soar high on the mountain top. Holding onto hope so it never drops. Liberty flowing in harmony with the river bed. Calling courage to forget what the valley said. This is the hopes and dreams of men. Forever, now and even then. Waiting for the fortitude of the unspoken. Healing the sorrows of the … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty One- The Dreamers Song By Hannah Williams

An Analysis Of ‘In My Name’ By Grace Nichols

Heavy with child belly an arc of black moon I squat over dry plantain leaves and command the earth to receive you in my name in my blood to receive you my curled bean my tainted perfect child my bastard fruit my seedling my sea grape my strange mullato my little bloodling Let the snake … Continue reading An Analysis Of ‘In My Name’ By Grace Nichols

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty- What The Dream Taught Me By Hannah Williams

A dream is a living legacy which cannot be killed by death. Transcends emancipation. It transcends liberty. In fact, it transcend freedom. That I can hope for freedom within my constraints. He taught me. In the content of your character lies the change. That after death your legacy can live on. The man with a … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty- What The Dream Taught Me By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘Along The Road’ By Robert Browning Hamilton

I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chattered all the way, But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me! Robert Browning Hamilton In the first stanza, … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘Along The Road’ By Robert Browning Hamilton

Sunday Stanza: Poem Nineteen- Stages Of Denial By Hannah Williams

Stage one is characterised by fear. The entity that floats to a mind. Inviting itself in and out like a comfortable family friend. It tells you what cripples you. Debilitating your ability to trust yourself. Once fear has marinated in your mind. Then you can progress to the next stage. Welcome to projecting your fear … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Nineteen- Stages Of Denial By Hannah Williams

An Analysis Of ‘Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep’ By Anon

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush. I am the swift uplifting … Continue reading An Analysis Of ‘Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep’ By Anon

Sunday Stanza: Poem Eighteen- Why Live In Denial By Hannah Williams

Why live in denial? When you could be free. Why live in denial? When you could just let situations be. Why live in denial? When you could focus your attention on more. Why live in denial? When you could see what the world has in store. Why live in denial? When you could transcend? Why … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Eighteen- Why Live In Denial By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Seventeen- Dreaming In Denial By Hannah Williams

Denial is saying yes when you mean no. Whilst the choice rests with you. The choice lies peacefully as you watch it sleep. You dare not wake it up. You dare not make a noise. You leave it as it is. Even though you know what to do. Even though the power lies in your … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Seventeen- Dreaming In Denial By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Sixteen– Community Observations By Hannah Williams

  We sit on benches As the words in my throat clenches Some on the field. Where daisies and dandelions have yield. We inhale the breeze Our problems we release Gone with the wind. Because we sat on a field. Music blaring loudly Birds singing proudly. Not that they know all the words But their … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Sixteen– Community Observations By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifteen- I Know Even Though I Don’t Live On The Estate By Hannah Williams

I know even though I don’t live on the estate. Devolution is the politician’s word for recreate… Rebrand and make the surrounding more upstate. The only thing they’ll do is paint the gate. I know even though I don’t live on the estate Crime usually rises when it’s late You’ve been hearing the sirens since … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifteen- I Know Even Though I Don’t Live On The Estate By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘On My First Sonne’ By Ben Jonson

This blog post will analyse the poem 'On My First Sonne' by Ben Jonson which is written below: On My First Sonne Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sinne was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy. Seven yeeres tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘On My First Sonne’ By Ben Jonson

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fourteen– No Job For Jack By Hannah Williams

Defying the estate stereotype, Jack decided to be the perfect prototype. He went to university. Just to face employment adversity. He worked too hard. But the economy is bad. He gave education all he had. First class university grad. Unemployment makes him sad. Whilst Brad just asked his dad. A myriad of applications sent. Interviews … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fourteen– No Job For Jack By Hannah Williams

An Analysis of ‘My Father Is A Retired Magician’ By Dr. Ntozake Shange

In this blog post, an analysis of the poem 'My Father Is A Retired Magician' will be made. The poem commence with this: my father is a retired magician which accounts for my irregular behavior everythin comes outta magic hats or bottles wit no bottoms & parakeets are as easy to get as a couple a rabbits … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘My Father Is A Retired Magician’ By Dr. Ntozake Shange

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirteen – If The Community Had Spoken By Hannah Williams

Our people are broken; But what would happen if the community had spoken? If it had said we are here for the mental, Our hearts won’t be judgemental. Our people are broken; But what would happen if the community had spoken? And said we are here for single mums. We saw your journey we know … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirteen – If The Community Had Spoken By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Twelve- Important Nothings By Hannah Williams

I remember putting so much effort into childhood and youth. For I perceived it as the core of my root. Especially if I wanted to live a life worth remembering. My efforts had to be enduring. I needed to stand the test of time. So that adulthood would turn out fine. This was my important nothings. … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twelve- Important Nothings By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Eleven- Stones By Hannah Williams

  I rested calmly by the sea shore. Content with where I am I dare not ask for more. Until the day I was picked up from the beach floor. To skid upon the water like one, two, three  and four. So I discovered life anew. The journey was tough but the waves saw me through. I sank beneath the depths of the sea. Till the waves brought me back to the shore and re-branded me.

Sunday Stanza: Poem Ten- The Elements By Hannah Williams

The Elements By Hannah Williams©   What is beneath the soil? Is it gold? Is it minerals? Is it oil? To which the locals under the sun toil. For the rich man to gather his spoil. What is above the air? Is it justice? Is it equity? Is it fair? Does everybody get an equal … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Ten- The Elements By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Nine-Mars and Venus By Hannah Williams

Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. So who lives on earth? Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. So tell me, who or what lives in Uranus? Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. When will all the planet relieve us? Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. But who … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Nine-Mars and Venus By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Eight-Small But Mighty By Hannah Williams

A grain in the Sahara is me. Take a handful to see. That I am distinct. But me and the sand dune are linked. For a heap of sand forms the sand dune. Ready to dance to the wind's tune. For importance lies in each grain of the Sahara Desert sandstorm. Collectively, we radiate the … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Eight-Small But Mighty By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Seven- Empire State Of London (An Interlude To Society) By Hannah Williams

A city where dreams can be snatched. Even when your ambition is matched. Your dreams mean nothing in the city. And from the people don't expect pity. Knife crime and teen violence are on the rise. When will we learn to stop acting surprise. For the kids imitate role models from the street. Because they … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Seven- Empire State Of London (An Interlude To Society) By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Six- The English Dream By Hannah Williams

I walk by Aylestone meadow. Where birds sing and the tree's follow. The woodland's air I breathe The canal bed walks like me. I meander with each bend For the crevasses and cracks on the path like me need a mend. Me and nature are at one. Till the trail is dead and gone. The … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Six- The English Dream By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Five- Until We Killed Me By Hannah Williams

At this hour I learnt to weep silently. Sitting in the silence. Speaking with my darkness. My remedy for a broken heart. A heart that had nothing but love to give. It bleeds... now. Has a rhythm of your rejection. A symptom of neglection. You sliced it with silence. Without remorse you walked away. Though … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Five- Until We Killed Me By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Four- Moodiness (I Wore It As A Dress) By Hannah Williams

I wore moodiness as a dress. With a matching headband called stress, My handbag conceals my emotions which are a mess. But my shoes point me to a road which reads confess. You'd be surprised to hear what the world sell. And how many people fell For buying this dress called moodiness is expensive. The … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Four- Moodiness (I Wore It As A Dress) By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Three- Love (Within Me) By Hannah Williams

  I know there is love within me. I know its there but others cannot see. For this love is an entity. That transforms my identity. I know there is love within me. I know it's there but others cannot see. For this love knows my history. So it knows how to silence my minds … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Three- Love (Within Me) By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Two- Lonely Ocean By Hannah Williams

I'm a lonely ocean. Kissing the shore. Moving with its motions. Longing for more. I'm a lonely ocean. Looking for the sea. To carry away my emotion. Till I discover me. I'm a lonely ocean. Crashing against solitude. Moving in slow motion. No longer a lonely ocean if I can change my attitude.  

A Critique Of ‘My Guilt’ Poem By Dr. Maya Angelou

My Guilt By Dr. Maya Angelou My guilt is “slavery’s chains,” too long the clang of iron falls down the years. This brother’s sold, this sister’s gone, is bitter wax, lining my ears. My guilt made music with the tears. My crime is “heroes, dead and gone,” dead Vesey, Turner, Gabriel, dead Malcolm, Marcus, Martin … Continue reading A Critique Of ‘My Guilt’ Poem By Dr. Maya Angelou

Sunday Stanza: Poem One- A Trail Of Someone By Hannah Williams

The emptiness absorbed and trickled down my window pane. The floor accommodates her in times of loneliness and despair. To gather the broken dreams in which I hurry to repair. Wiping away tears that synchronises with the rain. A bare and empty me. Who is she? I, myself and me. Could easily turn to three? … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem One- A Trail Of Someone By Hannah Williams