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Apr 2014 · 323
A Reader's Apology
Nuha Fariha Apr 2014
To the author,

Forgive me,
I have loved too deeply
the shadows of your type
I've stolen your creation
Locked it away in a tower
Thrown away the key
Incinerated all ties to you
Starved, it died.

Love,
The Reader
Feb 2014 · 948
Mina
Nuha Fariha Feb 2014
Mina Mina she declares
Life is hopeful
Pink and red.
She instructs me to wash
my hands and listen
to my parrot
She is feminine power
fearless leader

Mina Mina she lies
of no use know
what does she know
of wife beatings? Of
Dumpster scavengers? Of
rationing food? Of
Children in whom no one
Believe?

Mina Mina she is dead.
Jan 2014 · 2.5k
First the Cow Sings
Nuha Fariha Jan 2014
"You're going to hear me mooooo"
sings the Cow.

"Oh shut up,"
interrupts the Fox,
Of the late viral video hit,
from the next cubicle over.

"I'm sorry, but
you should go work somewhere else.
Somewhere for
lesser animals,"
Lion adds.

So the Cow left,
relegated to laughing
and the abundant sale
of her breast milk.

She never sang
again
Nov 2013 · 544
Nostalgia
Nuha Fariha Nov 2013
I guess I shouldn't be listening to
a spot against the sky's colossal gloom
And land deflated in the evolutionary
past we go
It aimed at windows' frosted panes
this is what it studies in romances
And does anyone know that
the species invents symbols
To the contest otherwise they'll
how oftentimes the day
Has left.
Constructed from "What Would I Say"
Nov 2013 · 1.7k
Home
Nuha Fariha Nov 2013
I am from a rooftop garden
That smell like fresh guavas
And hard, wired fences
Behind which lies a foggy skyline
A dreaming city

I am from a small, brown-red backyard shed
Tucked between rural green fields
Where two little girls defended the world from evil by
Laughing and swinging wildly on a rusted, fluorescent swing set

I am from a row of townhouses
Where no matter how late the return
Warm lights inside glow
Beckoning  

I am from strong rocks
Against which foamy, icy waves crash
Leaving behind grass
Soft to touch  
And hard to uproot

I am from eating overdone fried chicken
From short-lived patience
From a voicemail
That will always say
From Lucy, Tulu and Samah

From don’t eat that, it’s for the guests
And if you have to do it, do it, but I don’t want to hear about it.  

From too many whys
And not enough faith

I am from Dhaka, Bangladesh
From jostling crowds and hearing a million voices outside

I am from Limerick, Ireland.
From rustic houses and quaint parishes

I am from Wallingford, Pennsylvania
From suburbia and inane boredom

From the college-genius who crashed weddings on weekends,
The woman who is still unimpressed by sushi in Japan

I am from feeling sad if you do
But wanting to make you laugh anyway
Jul 2013 · 1.4k
The Rememberers
Nuha Fariha Jul 2013
We are the ones
who sit behind
clouds and mist
Fallen
Left
Trodden.

It's our skin, you explain,
it remembers every touch,
glance, action and dance

We are etched on
by our actions.

A tapestry of life
Illuminated on us.
Jul 2013 · 8.2k
A Homeland Removed
Nuha Fariha Jul 2013
Immigrants, especially those who don't return,
create idealistic homelands.
They imagine that all their
Woes, hurts and indignities
Would not exist
in their imagined homeland.

In their minds, homeland
is in stasis.
The life they left is lingering
waiting for them to return.

They cast winter upon the ponds of their
homelands
And live lives skating over the surface
Each time coming closer to
shattering the illusion
and gasping
in the icy
waters
of change.
Jul 2013 · 836
Mixed Metaphors: Eighteen
Nuha Fariha Jul 2013
The problem with being 18 is
simple.
The thing is we feel too much,
too deeply, too suddenly.

Our anger is an earth-splitting motion,
Sadness a thousand and one rain
clouds dragging down
And happiness is the flight of the
new born bird
Love is the wonder of finding
a buried Easter egg.

Each day, anger strikes, sadness
rains and, on good days,
love rebuilds.

We live on shorelines ravaged
Daily and salvage
fiercely.
Jul 2013 · 901
A Reaction to Correction
Nuha Fariha Jul 2013
We live in fear
Of handshakes, of smiles, of
any sort of legal situation.

To us, then, books like
Franzen's Corrections are
revelations.

They are portals into this other world,
Of our neighbours, of our bosses
and, of course,
of those ever-perplexing PTA members.
May 2013 · 395
Why?
Nuha Fariha May 2013
He did it out of a swamping sense
Of obligation

He did it because if no one else
Was going to do it.

He did it because he had been
Doing it.

Sometimes that was just
enough to keep
going.

Sometimes he wondered
If others thought why.

If they too got lost
looking for an answer that
Felt did not exist.

Truth?
He did it because
He was scared
to stop.
Mar 2013 · 760
The Fiddler on the Cliff
Nuha Fariha Mar 2013
Taking two sloping steps at a time
I hurried toward the gray peak
As if propelled by some Pied Piper’s rhyme
Between the battering of the wave’s break
On the smooth gray stones
Laid out as some colossal creatures bones

Near the top there lay
An ancient castle of pride and age
Shining under a single sun’s ray
Copied out of a fairytale page
Around it, the grass waved
Like sports fans after some fantastic goal was saved.

Nestled against the castle’s topmost crook
A fiddler sat upright and played
His music notes traveled and shook
Through the crowded masquerade
Of tourist’s gasps, native rough accents
Dominating the soundsphere without any assistance

They waltzed around in the air
Only to be carried away by a vicious banshee wind
Leaving me momentarily bare
A noiseless kind of blind
As I stared out in the distance
Watching the cliff be beaten out of existence
Feb 2013 · 1.8k
The Clapping Monkey
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
You are the clapping monkey
You are the restless throb of dusty city streets
You are the children running around after the school bell
And the stubborn tree that has lived in the neighbourhood for fifty years

However, you are not clipped footsteps of harried workers
Or the diligent, clockwork-like ebb of traffic
And you are certainly not tranquil duck in the middle of the city park
There is just no way that you are the tranquil duck

It might interest you to know that
I am the neat, color-coded filing cabinet
I also happen to be worn-out recliner beckoning in the evening’s light
And the ever-winding, deserted country road

I also happen to be the free-floating paper bag
But don’t worry, you are still the clapping monkey
You will always be that clapping monkey
And I am the enchanted audience.
Feb 2013 · 1.3k
The Villanelle
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
A child did walk along the lake
On the other side
A monster did slowly wake

With claws that could rake
Blood and a hairy hide
A child walked along the lake

With soft hands that bake
Sugar cookies and intent bona fide
A monster did slowly wake

Repulsive cries that snake
Into dreams nationwide
A child did walk along the lake

Remarkable songs that make
Magic become applied
A monster did slowly wake

Joining together at sanity’s sake
Switching at the continental divide
A child did walk along the lake
A monster did slowly wake
Feb 2013 · 1.3k
Diana Doll
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
She sat glorified
Among rotting leaves
On a rooftop ledge
Reigning over streets
Where children don't believe in "someday"

Each day, she greets the sky
With a painted pink smile
Her perfectly sized body
A taunt to adolescent girls below

Gusts of violent winds
Descent from that palace
Into the lap of a dreaming bookworm

These days she wears a torn dress,
Broken limbs splayed on a glorified bookcase
Feb 2013 · 623
Day 59
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
Day 1, I walked into the library
Day 7, I allowed myself to touch the spines
Day  10 I started on the first book
Day 20 I finished the 30th book
Day 39 I encountered friends more dear than real
Day 59 I leave,
Carrying the ghost-books.
Feb 2013 · 664
Nothing
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
Pre-nothingness, we created
A song of immense proportions
It entranced people until they died.

Nothingness, we created
Pictures worth no words
It created a vaudeville show no one escaped.

Post-nothingness we created
A blanket, white, wooly, slightly scratchy
It stretched over sleeping, hungry children
Feb 2013 · 900
Lucky
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
She didn't know anyone with cancer,
She was lucky in that way.
She knew people with diabetes,
TB and  heart failures

She knows people who live
Ten days, sometimes less
Streets where death is
a matter of daily life

She knows people poisoned
by lead, by hunger, by greed
She knows many people
who will not live until the age of 20.

"Who knows someone with cancer?"
asks the motivational speaker
Her hand is the only one down
She's lucky, in that way.
Jan 2013 · 1.7k
Origami
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
Paper unfolded is by far
the most beautiful possibility
Before it is folded
Twisted, refolded, untwisted
Doubled, tripled, bent and unbent
To be beaten into a form
A claustrophobic form.
Jan 2013 · 841
Javier Oscar
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
Javier Oscar
Has two first names
Two hands, two feet
One brain
(Though he wished he had two,
One for work and one for play)
Everyday, Javier Oscar walks to work
Crossing two streets
Striding up two stairs
Sitting in-between two equally shaped
Gray Squares
With two bowls in front of him
Round with two light blue swirls
One for pennies, one for food
Everyday, after work, Javier Oscar walks
To a park, to a bridge, to his favorite
Two trees
Where he squats in a shelter, a home of
Two cardboard boxes and two shredded raincoats
One a kitchen, one a bedroom
Every two days, Javier Oscar donates
Two dollars to charity
One a future hope, one a forgotten love.
For Javier Oscar is not poor
He has two hands, two feet, two names
One a man, one a soul.
Jan 2013 · 613
A Conversation
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
Hey Samah?
Yeah.
Move over. I'm falling.
No.
I'll leave.
Fine. Happy?
Yeah.
I don't like sleeping with you. You're too unpredictable. However, we will still remain bed buddies.
We were never bed buddies.
Of course we're bed buddies. We're also sweater, pants, TV, lunch, dinner and homework buddies.
Is there anything we're not buddies for?
Poetry buddies. You ****. You don't even rhyme things. I'm sleepy. Good night.
'Night.
Jan 2013 · 1.5k
Bonnie, Age 7
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
The ball bounced over
and I, ever ignorant, picked it up
And looked around expectantly
Hoping to throw it back
And finally, for once, join in a game, any game.

"Oh no, she has it now,"
A whisper said
My brown hands gripped the ball
Tighter as if
that could
help

Summoning up my courage
I walked over to one girl
Call her Bonnie, if you like.
I say
In broken English
"Drop you, take this?"

"Thanks"
sarcasm replies
as fingers slowly take it
minimizing contact

When I turn back
Bonnie throws the ball at the ground
and uses her hand-sanitizer
As if possessed.

That night, at home, in the shower,
I scrubbed and scrubbed
Trying to
Destroy
My brown
disease.
Jan 2013 · 1.2k
Seil
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
“What did you have for breakfast?”
Cereal with milk, I think.
“Toast with Nutella,” I blurt out.
Just another innocuous lie
You believe it.
Why wouldn’t you

So
I begin alter reality
In small ways

Soon
I reconstruct my life

One day
I am Ford Prefect
No longer awkward, towel always present, the number 42
memorized

While on other days,
I am the smallest non-bonded hydrogen atom
Enjoying anonymity,
Hiding everywhere, being everything, finally fully
Present.

One day
I am caught
My yet-uncreated self
Snagged in thorny lies
By days I forgot
To distort

I cease to
exist
Jan 2013 · 1.2k
Diana, Age 5
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
I stared at Diana
Eyes a hue of blue
Skin white and shiny
Hair a sheen of unnatural yellow

My hand shook whenever I had to move her
Fearful of spoiling her purity
With my grubby fingers

So Diana stood alone in the corner
Bidding me goodbye
As I set out for school each morning.

One month later
She was stolen
By the housemaid

Today, I imagine Diana
Standing proud in the
Middle of the mud floor
Bringing regality
Into an impure world.
Jan 2013 · 2.2k
Orange is the Color of Hope
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
In my home city of Dhaka, there is an abundance of bananas. Their sickly sweet aroma hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the stench of human toil and chemical wastes to produce the true odor of despair. The lives of these bananas are relatively short. They start off in a poor farmer’s tree, dragged to market in a broken-down truck, and sold at a cut-throat price to the vendor. In a well-rehearsed play, vendor and consumer haggle over bruised bananas. The tired consumer brings the bananas home and hangs them in the kitchen where cockroaches stalk empty cupboards.  
                      The next day, we, the children, will carry the bananas in empty lunch boxes to school. Together, we will sit through vapid lectures, tailored to make the clock tick slower. Not once will the teacher pause to encourage us to achieve. During lunch, we will devour our bananas with unwashed hands. Despite our best efforts, we will be corralled into our parents’ lives and become the next generation of factory workers and office clerks.  
              Sometimes though, a child manages to get a glimpse into the other world. I was fortunate enough to be one of these children. One afternoon, my father came into our tiny living room with a smile on his face and an object protruding from his shirt pocket. He told me that he had a special present for me. With a practiced flourish, he took out an orange from his worn shirt. My eyes widened with amazement.
              To me, oranges were objects only celebrities and corrupt politicians could afford. They were luxury items, myths seen on television. Yet here I was, nothing extraordinary, holding a real orange in my palm. Slowly I peeled the orange, feeling my old impoverished self peel away simultaneously. As I tasted the first tangy slice, I heard the shackles of the banana chain fall. It was then that I truly felt that I had the power to become anything I wanted. That day, I was liberated from the vicious banana cycle.
               From that day forward, I looked for positive events in my life, for signs of hope and change. One day, I saw my strict, condescending teacher discreetly hand an orange to a classmate whose family was unemployed. For the rest of the day, the child stood a little taller. For that day, he was no longer living in a destitute environment, but residing in the warmth of human nature.
Dec 2012 · 1.8k
O Captain, my Captain
Nuha Fariha Dec 2012
O Captain, my Captain
I am sick of being a Pioneer
I am sick of having my body being sung electric
I am sick of these lilacs always blooming in my door-yard

O Captain, my Captain
I don't want to walk along with Him
I don't want to be a Gnostic
I don't want to be divine

O Captain, my Captain
Let me be free of this dreadful  uniqueness
Let me plod along life, uninhibited by aspirations to greatness
Let me be the million, not the one
Dec 2012 · 857
An Imperfect Sonnet
Nuha Fariha Dec 2012
Dreams, wisps of things inside my head not too
Long ago with faraway soft noises and
Rushing trains that were never too blue
Oceans sparkling, tears glistening, small band
Plays forever, trumpets blasting, fireworks dance,
Across black nights, horrid days, with joy
Children make, green grass stains, mud cakes in France
Where many street fairs enchant a lost boys
Who fly at night past winding towers
And wake in the morning with
Little memory of naught.
Dec 2012 · 3.6k
Archetype Romance
Nuha Fariha Dec 2012
Scene 1:
(Periwinkle room, Jigglypuff poster, soft alternative music)
I stomp in,
Niagara Falls streaming
Throw his copy of Pablo Neruda poetry into the trash
And start reading Virginia Woolf
Poetic revolution.
That’ll show him

Scene 2:
(Cafe atmosphere, fading laughter, upbeat music)
Whoa. That guy. Not that one.
The one on the left
Kinda nice, kinda cute
And he laughed at my joke
Jane Austen romances
and Zooey Glass daydreams
fill my waking moments

Scene 3:
(Restaurant, muffled conversations, classical music)
What is he staring at? Who is he staring at?
Oh no awkward conversation gap
Say something,
quick, anything
“The weather is nice tonight, yeah?”
Not that.
But he laughs
Night saved

Scene 4:
(Outside the restaurant, night breezes, car noises)
“That was nice,”
He casually mentions
Yeah. Nice.
Not great. Amazing. Life-altering.
Nice.
The same adjective used to describe the weather
Devoid of meaning.

Scene 5:
(Car, radio on silent, crickets chirping)
“I wanted to give you something”
Hands me,
Oh dear god no,
A copy of Neruda
That ****** Neruda.

— The End —