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Literature Text
the ocean holds no place for fishermen; no hungry sailor looking for a mermaid to sink his teeth into. but these days, their net hands tangle into dolphins and pufferfish and stingrays; women with sea salt hair & barefoot soles wandering about—their soles caught at the edge of their wrists as they swim toward the danger zone. there’s a reason why it’s blue.
blood and oil spill all over her belly, afterthoughts drowning in sadness. there is no place for warfare but the space holds everything like a sky hungry for clouds. she is the only piece of quiet left, intoxicated, drifting her own drunk shipwreck searching for rescue—
everyday, her bloated coral children are taken away from her and all she does is wave. the sea is no place for loneliness with an ecosystem holding the secrets of Atlantis
but with a body as wide, as vast, as continuous, she cannot help but accept the destruction like a mother whose children look for the arms she already gave in embrace.
blood and oil spill all over her belly, afterthoughts drowning in sadness. there is no place for warfare but the space holds everything like a sky hungry for clouds. she is the only piece of quiet left, intoxicated, drifting her own drunk shipwreck searching for rescue—
- imagine waving to the wind with your hands trying to reach the heavens, your lips endlessly kissing the tides. nothing but rejection. you drown everyone in your ceaseless surrender and all they ever do is destroy you.
everyday, her bloated coral children are taken away from her and all she does is wave. the sea is no place for loneliness with an ecosystem holding the secrets of Atlantis
but with a body as wide, as vast, as continuous, she cannot help but accept the destruction like a mother whose children look for the arms she already gave in embrace.
Literature
Hate
I hate
I hate well
I hate feverishly
I am the churning acid in your stomach
I am the blood pounding in your head
I am the white-knuckled fist clenching to strike
I am the red haze dimming your eyes
and clouding your mind
I am the rage that lashes out at the weak
the small and defenseless
justified by tears and fueled by alcohol
I hate passionately
I am the shaking in your hands
and grinding teeth
nails digging into your palms
I am everything you hate
boiling to the surface in a froth of
bile
blood
and excrement
I am the indiscriminate spray of bullets
at the school
church
nightclub
I am the madman raving on the news
heaping blame
Literature
attempts
this afternoon
unresponsive to the sunlight
lying in bed like summer afternoons and white sheets
still moments in our room
so quiet i can hear your ribcage shifting with each breath
but winter -
winter is coming,
the air is so cold,
my bones break inside.
your remove yourself from me,
turn your head away,
hand slipping out of mine,
curling into yourself.
this morning
waking up to brightness outside
the crisp air is singing with potential but
i am quiet
i am inside
i am by myself on this big bed.
Literature
imsorryican'tstoptellingyouhowmuchiloveyou
i can keep telling you i love you every day
but every time i do, i feel like i'm simultaneously losing
pieces of my heart.
you brush it off
like i don't mean anything to you.
like i never meant anything to you.
i wonder if i'll ever mean something to you again.
you said you knew what you wanted but
i know whatever it is no longer includes me.
and i know myself; i'm weak when it comes to you so
even though i've been thinking lately about how i
wont be foolish enough to fall back
in love with you
not even all that deep down, i'm sure
that i will.
but i can't keep telling you i love you every day.
because every time i do, i'm losing mor
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first time to add an actual piece of the chapbook I planned to submit to Button Poetry. I joined their contest but withdrew because of other documentation problems like my passport to the US. more to come ^^
I tried a trial run by posting a rough draft of this in instagram but critique was very slim there. Nothing replaces dA
username in insta: tidalcurl (all shitty photographs. I used to post half-baked poems there in a quest for critique. sadly, there were none).
EDIT: Title added ^^
Features:
shehrozeameen's Feature of some more deviations and a tag; and
Answers to my tag And another tag
I tried a trial run by posting a rough draft of this in instagram but critique was very slim there. Nothing replaces dA
username in insta: tidalcurl (all shitty photographs. I used to post half-baked poems there in a quest for critique. sadly, there were none).
EDIT: Title added ^^
Features:
shehrozeameen's Feature of some more deviations and a tag; and Answers to my tag And another tag © 2015 - 2024 brokengod--veins
Comments9
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It's open ended, in my opinion, and on that note, I did see themes of "longing", "identity", "freedom", "the human condition", and "love unkempt" in it. Also, the use of water in this poem, symbolic as it was, felt a little forced at times: I loved the fishermen aspect in the first paragraph, but the fourth paragraph was not in place, and the relation of the second and third paragraph did not help with the original 'perspective' you've established with your first paragraph. The last paragraph, nevertheless, was lovely.
In a way, it's an experiment, but I feel you should have kept a thematic focus when writing this poem. That oftentimes helps in giving your poems a capacity to still be open ended, but also let them have a compact structure with which the reader can lend their opinion and perspective on.
All in all, a good attempt. This chapbook might actually have had chances of winning, for what it's worth (because Americans are incapable of understanding good poetry
) 
In a way, it's an experiment, but I feel you should have kept a thematic focus when writing this poem. That oftentimes helps in giving your poems a capacity to still be open ended, but also let them have a compact structure with which the reader can lend their opinion and perspective on.
All in all, a good attempt. This chapbook might actually have had chances of winning, for what it's worth (because Americans are incapable of understanding good poetry
)