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Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2022
We're riding bikes on this trip known as life

In midnight hours

Facing wind with a hefty amount of risk mixed with intoxication adorning my head with an imaginary crown in place of where nonexistent helmet should be

Drunk not on alcohol
Instead from the countless tears formed by self-hatred
Hot liquid bubbling over edges of my eyelids

I hope we find our way
We travel without light guiding our direction
Two insignificant nomads blindly navigating this vast existential void
Attempting to reach sort of adequate destination before time reaches us
Held together by fingers and an invisible magnetism more powerful than the unknown forces pulling and prodding around us at all angles
And led forward by our hearts
I miss my partner in crime
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Kurds are Birds
by Kajal Ahmad, a Kurdish poet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Per the latest scientific classification, Kurds
now belong to a species of bird!
This is why,
traveling across the torn, fraying pages of history,
they are nomads recognized by their caravans.
Yes, Kurds are birds! And,
even worse, when
there’s nowhere left to nest, no refuge for their pain,
they turn to the illusion of traveling again
between the warm and arctic sectors of their homeland.
So I don’t think it strange Kurds can fly but not land.
They wander from region to region
never realizing their dreams
of settling,
of forming a colony, of nesting.
No, they never settle down long enough
to visit Rumi and inquire about his health,
or to bow down deeply in the gust-
stirred dust,
like Nali.

And because Kajal mentioned Rumi, here are my translations of Rumi:

Raise your words, not their volume.
Rain grows flowers, not thunder.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Birdsong relieves
my deepest griefs:
now I'm just as ecstatic as they,
but with nothing to say!
Please universe,
your poetry
through me!

Keywords/Tags: Kajal Ahmad, Kurdish, translation, Kurds, birds, nomads, caravans, refuge, homeland, fly, land, flying, landing, colony, nest, nesting, Rumi, Nali
Kelsey Chupp Nov 2017
we are nomads
finding love in things that change
finding homes in our adventures
and finding ourselves in the in-betweens
thepoeticwit Jul 2017
”Home is where the heart is”
Yes, but home is not confined to these four walls
in which we reside.

is more than just a house
made by


It is in the heart,
     that pumps the very blood that runs thicker
than water.
But water is needed for blood to keep running
       what. is. home?

   is who we are
   is where we belong

is how we have become,
how we have come
a long way from,
and where we return to.

Like nomads,
it is where we are found.

      is where we are...
Theme: Home
(100 words)
Ignatius Hosiana Aug 2015
Rain pattered on all roofs
And Cattle clattered their hoofs
The locals gathered in groups
Cocking guns ready to shoot
Thinking that probably the brutes
Had once again returned to loot
Christina Apr 2014
We were made to roam every corner of this earth, to become nomads whose homes are inside each other.

Our hearts are too curious to be kept in this cage made of bones.
Jaanam Jaswani Apr 2014
We share our deficiencies:
A haven of sorrow and fury

Friendly - they say hello
In mischief and spite.
Warm or cool under your feet
They swerve near nonchalant districts
And foamy lips

Destructive - they leave without saying goodbye
A routine they developed
Over the series of washed up regrets
And maroon sediments

Attached - they stick like superglue
To the pang they forgot to tell you about
They leave and take a part with them
And inevitably imprint themselves onto you

We share our deficiencies:
A haven of sorrow and fury
To Mari - the brave one.

— The End —