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Truth
A ball of furry feathers, Stuffed down your throat, Choking you, Begging you, To be swallowed whole, But you cough it out, All of it, Till there are no feathers left; Released from your pain, You watch the feathers scratch the listener’s face. But eventually, The feathers float, Light up in the air, Spiral above,…
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Let’s play a game:
It will hurt, just a little. I just lost. So I insult, say mean words, hurt the winner, till I win, and she loses, loses her balance, and falls with a yelp. So I reach down, give her a hand, become the hero, again her best friend. But still in pain, she pushes me down,…
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Web
It’s hard to know, To understand life and its patterns. It’s even harder to let go, To give in to the fact that there is a web that will hold us Even when we feel like we’re about to crash. It’s hard to believe in this web, In its strength, In its unity and…
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Portrait
Claude Monet Wish you weren’t yet dead. You captured The colours of nature’s Poetry, The light playing up a Symphony. Own the present You did, On your canvas With paint. But now you are the past, Outlived, Without you, Your paintings have Moved on. Published on: May 7, 2011
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High
I’m scared of heights and he’s high. So for him I wore the stupid heels. And for him I drank the bitter coffee. With blisters and sore feet I went home. High from the caffeine I spun in circles And could not fall asleep. Later I realized There was no…
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How I would paint love:
A giant pencil, Drawing out With every unseen colour, Beginnings And beginnings And beginnings Of surprises And laughter. Solid, With enough strength to lean on, To bend, Without fear of splinters. A giant pencil with an equally giant eraser, Forgiving, Removing, Mistakes made, When the giant pencil stilled, And at the wrong spots, Slipped. …
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OCAD: Based on “Girl”, By Jamaica Kincaid
Wash your brushes immediately and put them to dry hanging upside down; wash the acrylic ones separately and never mix them with oils; don’t leave your paintings to dry in the hot sun; they’ll cook and crack; wash your palettes as soon as you’re done using them; when buying yourself an apron, be sure that…
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Drop
Dropped my bag on the hard subway seat, Dropped my head on his round shoulder bone, Covered with the sweatshirt he had earlier got, His body felt soft and warm. Dropped my lids on my cheeks, Felt the subway rock me to sleep, Felt his breath deepen when I moved, When the lurch of the…
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My Reasons
To express, To enjoy, To explore, To rejoice, And to live, And to soar, To record Memories of all sorts, To escape, And to learn, To survive, To not burn Through the thoughts Which eat up All the space Left in me, I write. There’s a song, In every word That flights Through the purse…
Tasneem Dairywala 