Poetry Blog by Shifa Maqba

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Chloé Mballa on The Cost Of Your Hand (12 hours ago)

Shifa Maqba on Plath's Poppies (3 days ago)

Shifa Maqba on The Aftermath (3 days ago)

D.W. Hamilton on The Aftermath (3 days ago)

Abdul Ahmad on Plath's Poppies (4 days ago)

Shifa Maqba on Plath's Poppies (4 days ago)

Shifa Maqba on Plath's Poppies (4 days ago)

LEON STOLGARD on Plath's Poppies (4 days ago)

Paul Sayer on Plath's Poppies (4 days ago)

Philipos on Plath's Poppies (4 days ago)

Plath's Poppies

Plath's poppies bloom
In days of gloom,
From July through October.
The scarlet florets burn like ember,
And line up before tombstones 
And hallucinatory portals.
Some look up to the sky, their eventual abode,
And some like a skirt, tent their petals. 
A sprightly bird's staccato trills 
Fragment further when hit by perils
That tag along with the siren of the ambulance
Carting a lady who...

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homagePoetrypoppiesSylvia Plath

Unrestrained

My anklets fill the air with resounding laughs 

As I scuttle between tall blades of grass.

I feel free 

Like I'm the breeze.

A yearning dream

Lounges among the clouds.

Her hand caresses my cheek,

I feel safe and sound.

Did I tell you that I feel free?

Free from the restraint of a rhyme scheme;

Free from structure;

Free from obsessions

Like a speck of dust on a t...

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BubblecloudsdreamsessencefreedomhopesmilestonesPoetry

The Aftermath

Stars fall from the sky 

And congregate on the ground to erect an ivory palace,

As bright as day, as searing as the desires 

Entombed deep under the earth's surface.

 

It doesn't take nightfall 

To lure them inside-

The eager, the crafty, the venal, the mortal.

Every nugget of their flesh blazes in the lambent lights.

 

Inscrutable power it gives them 

As they undr...

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aftermathgreedlightslustmasqueradespalacePoetrysinstars

All That Remains Is A Mere House

Tufts of dust 

Caper about my mosaic glass.

Blotches of ferric rust 

Offer me an unceremonious welcome at last.

 

Things I'd once befriended

Seem distant and cold.

Deaf ears to the chime of my footsteps

Tell me they've forgotten their companion of old.

 

I wonder when those mellifluous repartees

Turned into hollow echoes,

And the blithe breeze 

Into a stiflin...

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aliencomfortdustebonyfloorhomehousePoetryrusttraitorvisitor

A Lullaby Of Loss

(Inspired by Death With Dignity, Sufjan Stevens)

Stoic and sober silence, I can feel you,
Like a blanket draped 'round me
When I'm down with flu.
Why don't you speak?
Decimated dreams, I can see you
Even in the stark bleak.
The color of coal.
When will you heal?
Whispers of floating phantoms, I can hear you,
When you hover over my cot
And sing a berceuse.
Why did you stop?
Flowers pre...

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flowersgriefLossPoetrysilencetombstones

Tenant Of The Sea


He witnessed the rise and fall of the tides

Of the sea that seemed so milky in the moonlight.

Gloating over its graceful strides,

The rumble of the colossal sea was all he could hear that silent night.


The stars twinkled in the darkness,

And the moon in the blackness

Gazed dotingly at him and his boat,

As the decrepit carrier carted its master swiftly afloat.


How long had he been at the ...

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bloodescapemoonnightPoetryrefugeeseaskywar

Can You Hear The Moon Sing At Night?

Can you hear the moon sing at night?
A distant melody from the most dulcet vocal pipes?
Have you ever nestled in her crescent bed
Like the kid in the DreamWorks emblem?
My winsome lady
Dotes on me.
Her visage,
Part amused, part exasperated.
For she knows why I've come to see her again--
To steal the roux from stars, milky and fulgent.
To hoard fragments of the night sky in my wooden ches...

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astronomycraterdiamondsexplosiongemsMoonnightPoetryrepressed memoriesstarsvolcano

City Lights

City lights,

Fireflies,

Half-hearted smiles 

And ugly cries.

 

Bustling roads,

Narrow and broad;

Abundant with shops and bars,

And people- their bodies, minds and souls scarred.

 

Edifices tall and sturdy.

Trapped in it are people content and happy;

And those walking on thorns, barbed and merciless;

And those breathing but lifeless.

 

The city is a plac...

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citylieslightsoldPoetrytruthyoung

The Cost Of Your Hand

I awake on a bed of roses, 

Whose petals crunch like orphaned autumn leaves.

A ray of sunlight towards me approaches,

Dancing in the light are muddy speckles aplenty.

 

I can feel the air around me toy with my locks,

Which is as feeble as your grasp on my hand.

But I hold on

To you, this very second, this very moment.

​​​​​​

The mere sight of you sugarcoats my disill...

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abusedelusiondisillusiondreamfreedomgriefhandhooklossPoetryroseyou

What Lies Above And Below Us

entry picture

Far above us

The sky bursts into colours-

Blue, purple, grey, orange,

With red and all the hues in its range.

 

Miles beneath our feet

Are secrets buried,

Arcane and deep.

Their ampoules once known to everybody.

 

What goes overhead

Suffuses stars and their milky shells.

The departure from earth melancholic but serene,

Leaves behind shimmering trails that spe...

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afterlifecoloursdeathexistencelifemysteryPoetrysecretssky

Chocolate Tree

There once stood a chocolate tree, a bearer of desires. 

Its leaves melted when it inhaled passion.

Its fruits of fire

Set ablaze lands, verdant and barren.

Its bark was festooned in ribbons

Of rich gold and smooth caramel. 

Like Midas' touch, gluttony abundant,

The tree was nothing short of magical.

I basked in the shadow of the canopy

Atop the chocolate capped grass bl...

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chocolatedeathgluttonygoldgreednaturephilosophyPoetrytreewealth

To Try Is Human, To Strive, Divine

Sweet summer sunshine

And her warm embrace,

Her radiance as pale as egg-whites

Veils her face. 

 

She shies away from you and I 

Behind the soufflé of clouds, 

Mighty and high,

Far, far away from the mortal crowd. 

 

Or perhaps she's afraid 

Of the power we hold

To birth, sunder and devastate

Those shaped from the same dough. 

 

Fragile feeble fingers 

...

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divinefighthumanjusticePoetryscarssocietystrivestruggle

The Recipe of Solitude

I embellish my arms with bangles

As thick as two strands of hair.

Their raucous cackles

Suffuse the tepid air.

 

Air that's fragrant with spices

I add to my copper pots. 

Air whose redolence

Reminds me of what I've lost.

 

The dough that I mould

Sans a scintilla of strain,

Boasts imprints of my knuckles manifold, 

Knuckles on which those kisses still linger, ...

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curryfamilykitchenlonelinessPoetryrecipesolitude

I Am Whatever You Want Me To Be

I sliced the sun into two

And looted shimmering bars of gold

Which lined her womb, 

Her beloved broods I stole. 

 

I plucked the sturdiest mountains, 

The choicest adornments on the face of the globe. 

All it took were my hands, raw and unrestrained, 

Their maimed rubbles now abuse those they adore.

 

I remember the sea that like Moses I parted

And the ocean floor ...

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devilevilfateGodhopehumaninaturePandora's BoxPoetry

The Pictures We Drew

entry picture

I wonder what happens

To the poorly drawn images

We keep abreast as children,

Sheltered inside our notebooks and their crinkly pages.

I envisage those pages accompanying

Balloons, bubbles and butterflies,

And the colors in them adorning

The sallow face of the sky.

I like to believe that my poorly chalked out blades of grass

Somehow appended the greenery on earth

Or th...

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childhoodchildrencolorscrayonsgrowing-upmemoriesnaturenostalgiapicturesPoetry

I Died Yesterday...

entry picture

I died yesterday

With a pen in one hand and a diary in the other. 

The latter's pages were inlaid 

With prints of my curry stained fingers, 

And splotches of tea, 

And smudges of ink, 

And spools of memories,

And streams of ridiculous cravings. 

I fashioned the contents with the loose threads 

I'd been stockpiling since forever. 

Vibrant, prismatic, but half-completed...

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artcurrydeathdiarymemoriespagesPoetrysecretstea

The Last Rose

On a snowy day,

In a dimly lit street,

An ailing girl, utterly dismayed

Perches under the canopy of an enormous tree.

 

Looking heavenward,

Her eyes well up a little.

Perhaps she’s waiting for a special someone,

But all that comes to her are snowflakes, frosty and brittle.

 

She tears the icy veneer of the earth

With her gloved fingers.

And buries a white rose b...

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burydeathgirlmortalityPoetryrosesadsnowtragedy

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