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)
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)
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
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.
A droplet of despair Dripping from once-dried tear ducts. Flowing frequently A flimsy attempt to hold them Piece it together Patchwork the pain. Sew it silently. With the excess crochet it Turn it into a commodity Then sell the once broken tears to the tradesmen at the stall. Tell them you've got an ocean you'll … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty One- Broken Tears 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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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