For this week’s Writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, I’m going to take a personal detour. We all have those people in our lives who are much more than friends and are practically family. People who waltz into our lives unexpectedly and inadvertently take up a huge space in it; well, my friend/housemate/sister recently published her first poetry collection called Soul Unraveled.
This book is a journey through Love, heartbreak, abuse, and rising above it all. It touches on aspects of life in short free verses divided into six different chapters. The poems in this collection are raw and unfiltered especially when tackling issues such as sexual assault.
Now that I’ve talked the talk, Its time to walk that talk. Below are a few poems from “Soul Unraveled“. If you like what you read, you can pick up the book which is available in e-form and hardcopy on amazon. The link is at the bottom of the post.
You can also catch up with the writer on Instagram @ Soul Unraveled
Available on Amazon: SoulUnraveled: Rising from the ashes
If there are any book reviewers who would be willing to review this book, please send me an email at email@example.com
Something unexpected happened today. I awoke to the news that we had a 25 hour day, yesterday and the time has shifted from +3gmt to +2 gmt. I was messed up in the head this morning when I found out.
In my 21 years, this is the first time its happened. I had to sit down for about 30 minutes to get my bearing straight. It was confusing trying to decipher if the 11 am lecture I was having today meant 11 am old time or new time.
But then again, thats one of the great things about living in a different country; you get to experience new things. I sure wouldn’t be experiencing any time changes if I was back home.
That being said (I just had to air it out), welcome to another Writer’s Quote/Poem Wednesday. I do hope the poem i’ll be sharing today doesn’t put a damper in your mood. I found it beautiful and melancholic.
Middle Age by Pat Schneider
The child you think you don’t want
is the one who will make you laugh.
She will break your heart
when she loses the sight in one eye
and tells the doctor she wants to be
an apple tree when she grows up.
It will be this child who forgives you again and again
for believing you don’t want her to be born,
for resisting the rising tide of your body,
for wishing for the red flow of her dismissal.
She will even forgive you for all the breakfasts
you failed to make exceptional.
Someday this child will sit beside you.
When you are old and too tired of war
to want to watch the evening news,
she will tell you stories
like the one about her teenaged brother,
your son, and his friends
taking her out in a canoe when she was
five years old. How they left her alone
on an island in the river
while they jumped off the railroad bridge.
The lovely blogger at Accidentally inked nominated me for an award. I honestly don’t do them anymore, but I loved the questions she put forth. And anyway its been a long time since I did one of these so I thought, I’ll give a shot.
What’s the best thing you like about your blog?
Ohhh lets see. I actually love everything. The fiction because I never thought I could actually do one of those “flash fictions” and now, I look forward to writing them; certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone.
The poetry because writing them have been such comfort and therapy at the same time. And the writer’s quote/poem because it gives me the opportunity to share with all of you, the reason why I fell in love with poetry.
What do you tell yourself to convince yourself so that you stay positive when something bad happens?
Honestly- I try to remember that everything happens for a reason and things could have been worse.
Do you like books? If yes, what did you last read?
I Love books, but then again I am a picky reader. I tend to stick to the same kind of genres. Don’t judge me, I’ve branched out but I just don’t enjoy them and i’ld rather not read what I don’t enjoy.
I’m currently reading a book by David Baldacci- The escape. It is the 3rd book in a John Puller series.
Do you think it’s okay to be scared of cats?
Hahaha, I am one of them. Of course its not okay to be scared of cats but thats why they are called “phobias”. They are irrational fears after all.
What do you say, lets get to know one another? I am throwing these questions to anyone/everyone who reads this:
1) Coffee or Tea
2) summer or winter
3) Vanilla or chocolate
4) crime novel or Romance novel
5) Documentary or movie
You can answer in the comments below or in a new post. Lets do this 👊🏽
I write for the days when the beating heart within my chest feels ripped apart. For the days when my readily accessible tears fail me (it wouldnt be the first thing to fail me).
I write for the days when my mind spins tales on purpose which perpetuate me as the villain- it is my mind but i have no control over it.
I write for the days when rejection and heartbreak; betrayal and sadness all morph into one and spring on me at once.
I write to remind myself, I am not alone. I have my words, I have my Lord. I have been failed before and I rose and wrote words.
So I write these words and save them, for the rainy day that I would need them.
I wish I could take,
I’ve got bills
(Not for my pleasure of course),
I’ve got mama
To make proud of,
I dare not
Who cares about-
That’s the way,
The world works,
Facebook page: words of a random. Let’s connect!
It wasn’t just one experience, it was a multitude of them. One after the other like the crash of a carefully assembled dominos cards; in succession. I slid slowly and then rapidly, hitting a few bumps along the way, like I wasn’t already on my way to the bottom. And I learnt on that downward journey, I learnt the bitter truth that rock bottom does not guarantee you won’t still get hit.
I watched the solid parts of me break into pieces, the liquid of my essence dissolve and gaseous parts evaporate. I was losing who I had ever known myself to be.
It took watching my whole life vanish before eyes for me to realise what life had been trying to teach me for quite some time. Sometimes, you have to shatter into pieces in order to mould into the “you”, you were always supposed to be.
“But I love you,” he said.
And I wondered where he got the notion that saying the words “I love you” was akin to an eraser which wipes off a slate of past mistakes; a chant which hypnotises one into prompt obedience regardless of the absurdity of the orders; a piece of blindfold over a woman’s eyes to block off the reality of events.
Or maybe, he just assumed I am like the other woman who had come and gone. A blooming soul withered by a facade of love, fed on sugar coated words which tasted like nothing- nothing- a compilation of meaningless gestures- suffocating.
And maybe (cause I can only assume as mama always said speak for yourself alone) he was fed on the notion that love is blind, love is an eraser and love hypnotises in the hands of a man.
But honey, Living has taught me, you can scream I love you until the oxygen carrying capacity of your lungs deplete, without sincerity in action, it don’t mean nothing. Call me cynical, but living otherwise would have me ending up just like the other woman. A washed-up replica of a once upon a time star.
I wasn’t always like this you know, she remarked softly, as if speaking to No one in particular.
I used to be fun, at least that’s what I’ve been told. I used to have friends, I even used to make jokes, laughable ones too.
It was great to be the joker and the life of the crowd and I reckon, I enjoyed the attraction and the favours it brought along. But eventually, I began to wonder if there was more to life than “that kind” of fun …
I wondered if I could be more. I wanted to be more.
More than just another pretty face, another name who gets passed around by with a laugh, another came and gone, another soul in a world filled with a billion of us. I wanted to be More…
It began with writing down all the things I thought I could do, the person I thought I could be, and- I never dropped the pen afterwards.
They say I have changed and I have lost who I used to be.
But in fact, I have evolved, I have found who I am supposed to be.
I know I speak without filter sometimes, a perk of mine, and as I presume, many others as well. Needless to say, somethings shouldn’t require filter to not be said, common sense should suffice.
If you’ve ever gone through a weight change, either weight loss or weight gain, for whatever reason, then you’ve probably also been a victim of what I’m about to say.
It is so NOT COOL to greet anyone with the statement- you have lost/ gained weight. That is not a greeting; whatever happened to good morning, hi, or even hello. And when you do say it unintentionally (I’m giving the benefit of doubt here), please don’t utter those words as if you’re saying snort or something disgusting.
That being said, now to the main reason I am writing this post. To anyone who knows anyone who is going through a weight change, please (talking from experience here), one of the worst things you can say to them is- “you looked more beautiful before you lost/gained weight“. Because firstly, it is none of your business and secondly, it is none of your business.
You do not get to decide when a person does or does not look beautiful. You have no idea the reason behind the weight change or the effort put towards it. And also because by saying that, you’re endorsing the “ridiculousness” that beauty is measured in scales which is absurd in itself.
I hope this doesn’t sound as one of those angst rant but rather something tangible. What are some of the worst things you’ve been told or heard, with regards to weight change?
The above image is courtesy of Cranky fat feminist.
She’d wake me-
in the middle of the sleep,
With a smack,
Girl! Draw your skirt down;
Don’t you know,
We are not the only ones,
On this land,
You, cover those thighs.
It maybe dark,
But it don’t mean “they” can’t see us.
And that was my mother…
I’d wake her-
In the middle of the night,
Go meet your father.
My stomach’s growling-
“Mama, I really am sick”
Go meet your father!
She’s spent her fair share
Of waking in the night, she’d say-
When I was a baby.
It’s his turn now,
To live the joys of fatherhood;
And that was my mother.
She raises six kids,
Singlehandeldy in the day,
So night is all hers.
She makes up rules which
Only she’s allowed to break,
Yet, we still love her.
Day 19: Family (December Poetry Challenge). This is the 3rd poem I’ve written regarding this prompt. The first two just seemed too mushy, and in a way unbelievable, it felt like the family I depicted was perfect and we all know that’s far from reality. I’m having an exam tomorrow so it was fun to write something a bit lighthearted for a change.