Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
1.
salt-caked fingers
peel each other

2.
slimy tongue
toils in vain

3.
soft lips
metal beneath teeth

4.
barbaric generator
clears its throat

5.
on these beaten blue windings
sun keens
29/03/2022
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
xi.
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
xi.
quiet
what viscous a sound

noise
like dust on a wall
the hand moves
and wears it
stills then
and becomes it

this city tumbles
a restless fall
30/03/2022
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
Bed
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
Bed
bed:
blood
in us
of mud

shed
the rust
muscle
of dust

red:
tongue
wrung
strung

said:
run
the run
begun
(we did)

-

head
of toil
of ours
in soil

bread
of skin
soiled
in sin

led:
we went
say, patent
we went

wed?
ha, sweet
pleased
bland wheat

bed:
pillow
above us
below

bed:
black hand
fragile
and
"Loose the flood–– you shall find it patent-–
Gush after gush, reserved for you-–"
-Emily D.

13/06/2022
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
22.
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
22.
01:00 am

if right now
I were to tell
of a thing that I’d do
for the rest life on
you know I’d say this

this is… magic
poetry is magic
and in this
I feel like only in this
am I ever true
and good

good
it is a strange word
one does not hear words
this simple
a lot now

good
it is so honest.
in its mediocrity
it leaves room for nothing else

right now
I think that poetry is good.
02/07/2022

There goes... I know some bits of poetry, and I know this is not it. Simple poems, stumbling poems, repetitive, childish (the very modern poetry that revolts me), ugly in their mediocrity, like countless faceless folks - don't care, will not let myself this time. Thought I would not reveal these, so I tried to write for nothing, and managed to write for little. I like these, perhaps much more than my fancy poems. My exams had been from 18th June to 4th July, so that's that.
Nights are pretty. I like them more than the moon.
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
3.
Picture:
smog pilfers
away some stars;
some cars
my words

Silence:
like a pinch, a piercer,
a piercing

Little winter:
a pistachio
salty, sweetly
confined a bead
I crack the door open
I eat it up

Clock:
a pistil
in it
time incubates

This lamplight
is like a pineapple
I want to write, write, write
28/10/2022
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
It is you for me
Through the summer winds
The winter winds
And colours else
That may curl and go

I linger there
I touch your hair
Two sweethearts
In the good blue room
Tip-toeing
Like my brush
And twisting
Like yours

Two painters
In simple linen
Turpentine, like
Your hair
It is you for me
13/02/2023

For Khadija
 Apr 2023 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
I begin to hate all art
why do you love me,
why do you not

I rub my fingers mad again
I make all faces ugly, ugly
why do you flee me,
why do you not

then I make strange things
I share too much,
in my strange things
then I boast, then I gloat
then I hide, hide, hide

then I want to clothe in paint
I want to burn all art
why do you wait,
why do you wait
07/03/2023
For Eman
 Jul 2021 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
XIV
 Jul 2021 Afaf Zulfiqar
Ayesha
XIV
blue mornings, pink skies
clouds crowding round the sunrise
you, prettier, still.
lively as a sparrow
Next page