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Sie fragten, weshalb ich schreibe.*

Ich habe lange mit meinen Gedanken herumgespielt,
aber meine Mutter hat mich all die Jahre liebevoll gelehrt,
dass man nicht mit sinnlosen Gedanken spielen darf.
Ich habe nachgedacht, bin durch Straßen gerannt,
bin auf Füßen von anderen herumgetrampelt, und
weitergerannt, umgedreht, und ehrlich entschuldigt.
Habe an meinem Stift gekauft – vermummt von Wor-
ten und habe Bruchteile von Radiergummifussel ver-
streut. Habe überall gesucht, in den Strömen des Re-
gens, in den alten Adern der Blätter am Straßenrand,
nicht mal im Bröckeln der Asphaltrillen habe ich ent-
denkt.  

Es hatte mich Nächte gekostet, einen Punkt für das
Fragezeichen zu finden;
aber, oh Gott, ich habe den Punkt gefunden, denn
der Punkt liegt in meinem Herzen, ich trage Worte
in meinem Herzen – lauter als mein und dein Herz-
schlag zusammen;
und nun hat mein Herz Ringe unter den Augen.
Let my silence teach you

what my words

did not
This year, do not explain yourself (especially repeatedly) to someone who does not listen. Let your silence be your response. Let your happiness be your response. Let your peace be your authenticity.
We speak without speaking
As two lovers should
Your eyes are like fire
And they burn me like wood

I pull up your dress
Like you know that I could
As I see my heart's desire
Between your soft thighs
Sweet gypsy woman, love me tonight!

Now you travel the world
searching for home
Wondering all the while
How you'd grown cold
Longing for days
when you still felt free
But now that you're here Gypsy
Come be with me!

Stay with me Gypsy,
there's nothing to say
I'll love you all night
Yea, I'll love you all day!
Lay with me Gypsy
Feel my love strong
And in my arms I'll hold ya
And do ya no wrong

Rock with me Gypsy
Feel my hips sway
As the tidal of emotion
sweeps us both away!
Laugh with me Gypsy
For in our hearts' we know
That as one we are together
And time matters no more
I’ll trace the lines of a love poem
With the tip of my generous tongue
I’ll bend you over a sonnet
pounding your heart with verse
Until you come
Closer to the slippery edge
Of the highest haiku peak

Pulsing cranes shoot from
Sky following deep swallows
Cascading heat wing

The beat of the sextet
Engorges the plump plum with tantalizing taste
As the surging wind tickles swirling grass meadows
A pirates plunder
unbridled womanly chaste
Riding my large prose with feminine pleasure
Until both writhing bodies are drenched in chicken broth rain
I will slather you in brilliant color
As you vacantly stare ecstatic
Groaning through the augustan age
Tongue firmly planted in Cheek
When she held me, I felt like an earthquake,
shrapnel cutting quick to the bone.
I’m disaster, an unknown
kind of danger is the most dangerous

When he held me, I felt like a riptide,
all control ran out the door.
With the *** and cappuccinos
I felt out of place in my new home

When she held me, I felt disgusting,
every move my own betrayal.
Yes, she hurt like a gunshot
but I did this to myself

When he held me, I felt strange,
like I should give my whole self.
He never asked, I’m thankful.
I don’t want to ruin everything else

When she held me, I felt like a secret,
like I was something small and wild.
In a room of screaming children,
we were something invincible

He never held me, but that’s alright.
Someone tell him I understand.
Take it slow, like we’re new friends.
I’m alive for once

No one touch me, I don’t want it.
Stop breathing down my neck.
My throat fills with *****,
But the hands never rest

No one touch me, leave me alone.
Stop pressing on my back.
There are thumbprints on my wrist bones
and handprints on my thighs

Don’t touch me when you aren’t here.
So many years have passed.
Is it trauma? I don’t care.
The filthy feeling always lasts

Don’t touch me when you aren’t here.
Nobody ever has to know.
When you’re sitting by your lonesome
Nobody cares, you’re on your own

Nobody cares, you’re on your own
Words are what own me
You string together those letters in a way that controls me

Waiting for phrases laced with clause
Falling victim to a precondition that I never saw

You speak in tangled tongue
Twisted vines of a past coming undone
Linguistically speaking
The damage is done
To all the women I've  ever called pretty,
before strong or intelligent,
I am sorry.

I am sorry I made it sound as though
something as simple as what you're born with
is the only thing you could be proud of
when you have crushed the sky.

I will, from now, call you resilient, or extraordinary.
Not because you are not pretty,
but because you are so much more than that.
Heres to strong women.
May we know them.
May we be them.
May we raise them

- Rupi Kaur
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