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)
Don't Call Us Dead is a poetry collection which I found quite heavy to read due to the depth and intensity of the topics. It varies from a range of issues such as the police brutality, what it means to be black in America and discusses the endemic of HIV. What do you think of … Continue reading Book Review: Don’t Call Us Dead By Danez Smith
Writing haikus has been a simple yet complex process because I am aware that the English form of haikus is very different to what constitutes as a haiku in Japan. This is because sentence structures and syllables are quite different in these two cultures. Yet, the universal essence of nature as the topic of an … Continue reading Why I Write Haikus?
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
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.
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
Sunset and sunrise can be as beautiful as hellos and goodbyes. At each instance, it doesn't matter if your heart skips a beat or your stomach gets butterflies. Each sleepless nights invites days which will bring you closer to the sweetest lullabies. You may have been chained but know your ankles have power to break … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Nine- Dear You By Hannah Williams
Between Clay and Star is the first major poetry translation book I have read and much to my surprise, it was quite pleasurable to read. The title is taken from a line of Liliana Ursu 'Harmonia Mundi' which reads'At the border between Clay and Star...' The variety in this book was amazing. We had a … Continue reading Book Review: Between Clay and Star (Various Writers and Translators)
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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