mother, the hyenas have come. the wind sinks it’s teeth into our roof; rot and decay, mother: the hyenas have come and the wind is tearing our trees, our groves: mother, mother do you see the moon weeping? the stars have come broken tonight, the wind is shaking our walls. mother, you are shouting over the wind and behind us the hyenas are cackling. do you see how the moon weeps? the walls are coming down, mother: our trees and our soil, up in the air. mother, mother: speak now, tell me it will be alright. will it be alright?
you are shouting something over the wind. i can see your words, mother: they flicker and float away: up in the air with everything we own and are. mother, behind us the hyenas cackle. the walls come down. i watch the sky bleed, i watch the moon weep. i watch the stars break and suddenly, we are in the open field: the earth solid and firm and bare beneath us. do people in glass houses know they live delicate lives?
Oh! Love the concept of the inspiration! Especially as someone who personally find a TON of inspiration from thinking about ancestors and their lives, what a fruitful treasure to draw poetry from!
The urgency of poem 2 is palpable! Your use of line breaks and repeated phrases is just perfection - and your opening image of: "mother, the hyenas have come. the wind sinks it’s teeth into our roof; rot and decay, mother:"
sets up such a strong poem - debating to myself what the hyenas could be a metaphor for, or if they are meant literally - but the final couplet gives some insight. Intriguing and thought-provoking poem throughout. Looking forward to reading more. <3
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
ugh you're poetry is STUNNING!! I really love the sense of urgency and vulnerability in #2; the repetition of "mother" is so poetic and heartbreaking. I also absolutely adored this line:
i watch the sky bleed, i watch the moon weep
But there are so many pieces of gold throughout your poems, and I can't wait to read more!
Also, I strongly agree with alliyah - the inspiration drawn from ancestry/generational ties is so strong and leads to a plentiful and vivid array of imagery in your poetry. I love it! <3
i. you tell me things you do not mean to say: the storm, the flight, the flood and the light.
ii. storm mother, in the distance i can always hear the thunder, i know that the earth i stand on is not real. that it is only you pretending. it is only me pretending i believe you.
iii. flood mother. in the distance i can always hear the river. i tell you i am drowning and you pretend that it is ok. that this is not the river and the earth, your silent promises. pale light, mother, where the river dances and the earth quivers. pale
iv. light and i say it is not real, i say i can pretend that everything is simple: that it is what you tell me it is. pale light, and i never talk to you about the earth and the river and the dust, mother, mother: i never tell you about the water and the sky and the light: pale light: it breaks our sky like peasants break bread: slowly, then all at once.
@alliyah thank youu! <333 I’ve read your poetry inspired by your ancestry and that’s sort of what inspired me to start this theme!!! I’m so glad you liked my second poem, I wasn’t sure if the urgency was coming across well enough or not, and I’m glad to see it was and that you enjoyed my poems!!!
@figmoon I’m so glad you liked my poem! Those lines are my favourite as wellllll spontaneously rhyming in poetry is my favourite thing to do thank youuuu <33
Hey rida! Really like these NaPo poems! The word economy in the third poem is super impressive - most of the lines are short but still pack a punch. I particularly like the final image comparing the sky to bread -for me that evoked the texture of dark clouds being shone upon by light in a unique way. There's this mood of desperation as the speaker repeatedly addresses their mother. I also appreciate how you incorporated some subtle rhyming there, with mother/thunder, flight/light etc.
rida, your poetry is just VIOLENTLY beautiful - i mean, in the first poem, your comparison of henna with blood by the end just BLEW my mind straight off (every time I see my own henna stained hands now, I think of your poem and it just. gives me goosebumps omg) 'People in glass houses cannot throw stones' is SUCH a provocative metaphor with so many different interpretations to draw on, and the entire poem itself is so very complex and layered and odkeodokekedmn I can only ASPIRE to write as well as you ahhhhh! your napo thead is a blessing to the site <333
Viola Tricolor also known as wild pansy, Johnny Jump up, heartsease, heart's ease, heart's delight, tickle-my-fancy, Jack-jump-up-and-kiss-me, come-and-cuddle-me, three faces in a hood, love-in-idleness, and pink of my john-
There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you. — Maya Angelou
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Points: 60
Reviews: 47