"award" poems
Oh, woman, dear, don’t be so insecure;
You’re only hurting yourself when you are insecure.
Look at the mirror and see how beautiful you are,
You don’t need to feel bad and to be insecure.
When you see others smile and happy in their lives,
Can’t you just smile for them and not feel insecure?
When someone deserves a prize, an award for his deed,
Would you aim to claim it because you’re insecure?
When someone stands now in a place where you dream,
Would you pull him down there when you feel insure?
When someone’s being praised for an excellent work,
Would you make some sour grapes- deeds of an insecure?
Yes, you are stealing a moment of your own joy,
Every moment that you’re jealous and you feel insecure.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
“only” the lonely know (my special sign)
{=}
an incurable silence
the meaningless, wasted touch of a hand,
attached, directed by them from them
to them
a failed reassurance
a classroom, a stadium, cornfield or grove,
so many nutted fallen solitaries fallen to rot
midst a globe of trillions never noticed,
never missed
the silly conceptual that the lonely,
special unique, blessed with a curse,
a specialist status, “only” they afflicted;
with a ken that isolates and yet feels elevated -
oh! I am special
show me one, just one, human who doesn’t truly believe,
they are the onliest loneliest and you will vision
each and every
lonely person who
secret sighs and whose first thoughts are only:
god spare me one more day of being,
fearful of achieving
my very own knowing,
in the invisible place,
the incurable silence award,
reward of another purple heart,
“only” the lonely service ribbon,
my Cain marker
~my special sign~
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
You like to say love disappeared.
And I swear it never left, but she talk like Kanye "Ima let you finish"
shrug her shoulders; cut me off, Swift.
Drinks on the table it was no one else's business, Henny in my system there was no one else who witnessed how she never took a breath like a run on sentence so I'm in the club flexing working on my fitness; arms out stretched on my chest crucifixion.
I'm forgiven but could never get a word in not even one syllable I'm talking in synonyms I,
never
ever
nevermore, words with friends. Triple word how absurd you be trippin **** on my Instagram insecurity I'm tired of it I'm with my Boys chillin rarely smoked but might burn a spliff; ease the pain so insane major Payne fatigue is in.
I got a glimpse of future, I use to, try to hit you up reconnect, bluetooth, I'm in her ear lying for the *** I miss you, she on top giving me the truth: this all you. But **** it though I'm not trynna be your man, but when she leaving out for work I be sleepin in
and when she home I tax that *** like I'm Uncle Sam nothing ever change so after head she be at my neck
next
Flashback to the present
--and--
she still telling me how I don't get it
stressed
unproductive in her presence, you not even in front of me I'm still tasting lemons; Yo, my star player wants a trade should I let her go? cut too deep for bandaids should I let it flow.
Throwback to the past vampire clothes but the blood different I'm a sucker for that red though: she was floating 6 inches from the earth floor, you's a victim baby true blood, spoil us! Show Me What You Got lil mama let your "Kingdom Come" dressed in all black spending money black republican? Awesome and some; I was sliding home she was catching, clamping; say I turn her on like a touch screen, Samsung; with a touch of color you would disobey your mother as I slid under your covers
mid-day massages
"Midnight Maunders"
at least that's how it use to be, now Award Tour got her trippin almost frequently
we use to fight for love she said now she a causality!
"and how you gonna make this bout you it's about me, phone ringing since 1am it's about 3
thought you was slick huh,
thought I was sleep, you **** right love disappeared"
but she never leaves.
She's still waiting to exhale, but she never breaths.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems.
Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works
Today, I feel weightless
useless would be best fit
As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life.
I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do
But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others
I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at
Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall
I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair
Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia
I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years.
I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause.
This time, stopping and starting as I please.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
zelle ma belle
(zelle is an interbank system for sending cash in an instant to someone else’s bank account)
sent her an unexpected $250,
at 4:00am, of course,
a check-plus for her life,
because she revel reviews her day at school,
as special person day, teaches them well, and
anointed, appointed unsolicited confirmation by them
“as part of our family”
how they crave her body, her touch, at scary movie parts,
her kitchens diner size menu,
her refusal to ever disappoint,
her candy drawer supreme,
her crayon color visions which they execute,
her zen sense of their moods,
and for me,
for calling them without hesitation
my grandchildren
indeed more here hers than mine
she asks me why the $$ and poet doesn’t lie
but thinks quick at 7:30 am while bed prone,
“you won Nana of the Day award”
the only (grandparent) on the floor with two kids in her lap,
for the magic show,
all the rest,
benched, chattingly adultry things
she thinks on it and says
“ok, I accept!”
p.s. also, I have yet to inform her of the (my) elimination of a
crystal champagne flute while doing my manly cleanup from Friday night lights dinner pink champagne celebrating
le weekend’s arrival
olp
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree. This bollywood wedding saree is beautified with resham thread embroidery on pallu portion and panels of the saree.Shimmer embroidered patch patti is placed at border of the saree add extra beauty to the saree. Blouse pattern shown in image is only for photo shoot purpose. Ara Priyanka Chopra Beige net Saree color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for you
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree. This bollywood wedding saree is beautified with resham thread embroidery on pallu portion and panels of the saree.Shimmer embroidered patch patti is placed at border of the saree add extra beauty to the saree. Blouse pattern shown in image is only for photo shoot purpose. Ara Priyanka Chopra Beige net Saree color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for reference.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
award goes to you for
making me believe
for a second that
my sexuality is a phase.
a stage that's passing
a page about to be turned.
award goes to me
for being in tune
with my desires & feelings.
for not letting you get into my head
for appreciating that love has no
gender,colour,culture or phase.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
You can pretend
That the black gloss
On my lashes
Will glue my eyes shut-
Make me blind to truth;
To ‘true knowledge.’
Go ahead.
Tell yourself
That my red-painted lips
Only spout nonsense.
It will only make it sweeter
When my wing-lined eyes
Give you whiplash
as I walk past you
To get my degree;
My award;
My paycheck.
Maybe if you’re ‘nice’
I’ll buy you an ice pack.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
You are the rock stuck inside of my sock.
You are drying off naturally after the longest shower in history, because you forgot the towel.
Like the string that is hanging off of my sweater. I keep tugging it and
pretty soon it is short enough for July weather.
The person using the car horn instead of ringing a door bell.
The low battery symbol on my cell.
Pungent perfume from a co-worker, the grossest smell.
The **** that asks for the red piece from your package of sweets.
The friend who cancels five minutes before every time you meet.
The rap artist that thanks God when he wins an award, even though his
songs are just about killing.
Medical technicians milling about when your arm really is broken.
The chapstick left in the pocket when the clothes are in a dryer.
Dress pants for work that are so tight, you feel you must be riding a wire.
The friend's children that you think are rude,
Unexpected company when you and your lover were getting in the mood.
But I guess it is just easier to say, I just don't have a good attitude.
Apr 19, 2010
Apr 19, 2010 at 10:21 PM UTC
Persephone runs amok, her hair caught on tendrils of wind,
eyes lucid as emeralds; aware, alive.
Hope is sketched on her face as if drawn by whoever paints the sunset,
pulsating with the reflection of neon cities, rolling countryside,
the adrenaline-pumping moment before a rollercoaster’s descent.
She is high on happiness, running across her plane of existence
with only her converse sneakers and extraordinary ambitions.
Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to Demeter.
Demeter, who is stern but unconditionally loving,
selfless, for when she hears her daughter’s plea for food she stops
her spoon midway through a bite.
When Persephone struggles with the perpetual torture of arithmetics,
Demeter’s sheer intelligence is astonishing, the iridescent reflection of
Persephone’s aspirations, for a problem to Demeter is merely
a hidden solution, a failure only a victory in waiting.
If only Demeter knew how her words are of the highest value,
her pleased smile the only affirmation to a job well done.
Her love cradled in the nook of Persephone memories,
every moment she is infinitely grateful to co-exist,
grateful for the Universe to award her the simple pleasure
of loving her parent with purity and stripped of conditions.
As Persephone runs, she glances back for a mere second,
in her smile is the mirror of her naivety,
she still believes that her Gods will save her from being a slave to
the inevitable corruption on Earth and Olympus,
for she is sure her untarnishable love for Demeter is her protector.
Yet, you know how the story goes.
In an instant, Persephone is falling into the Underworld, on the back of a beautiful monster into inescapable darkness.
But even then, she holds on to Demeter in thought and in prayer.
After adulthood, marriage, queenship, a childhood gone in a flash,
after her hands become worn with calluses, her face a series of rivers,
her mind expansive, her goals reached, Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to the first person she ever loved.
I love you Dad, Happy Father’s Day.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 10:45 AM UTC
Dear diary,
I just can't explain the amount of thoughts that I have daily!,
that continuous mind charter that I have daily....!
I'm filled with thoughts, every minute, and every second of my life.
My mind just keeps switching from one thought to another,
& The amount of day dreaming....
well!!!
you know my silly screaming ??!!!
Sometimes, they are really funny!
And they keep making me smile,
so that I keep glowing!
But some thoughts...,,,
They are really too dark,
That ,when I confront them,
it breaks my heart apart!!
I'm like a confused soul,
who's in search of meaning of life...
Who's in search of peace ,
Who's in search of shine!
But the moment I start thinking,
ugh!!!My head starts cracking!!
I just can't concentrate on one particular thing !
Today, if I feel like being a doctor,
Tomorrow I might think of being an engineer,
& If today I feel like being an accountant,
Tomorrow I might feel like,
" I just need an Oscar...!"
An Oscar for what??
I don't know ...!!!
It's sounds too cool and looks good to show !
Will I work for that award?...
honestly, I don't know !
I'm so lazy,
I don't even get up to "shoo" a crow !
But hey!...there's one amazing part about me,
Guess what ?
"Anyone can come and speak to me."
Being an overthinker,
has also opened up my mind,
I don't form immediate opinions,
till I get a clear sight !
I really don't know this journey of thoughts well??!!!
Will it ever be stable ?
Will it ever end ?
But ...If it ends,
I'll die for sure,
But hey!,
I'm sure there is some way to cure!
Which way?
Hey !...I don't know again !
Is that way gonna be simple
or another amazing pain!
But hey hey hey!!! I don't know why did I write this ?!
Was I trying to find a solution
or was encouraging my thoughts already in a continuous motion?!
But hey!,
it's ok if you're an overthinker,
Try to be amazing my friend,
even if nothing is clear!
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 5:28 AM UTC
Except for the Nobel Peace Prize,
Which carries a hefty prize money,
No other Nobel Prize is given by the rich Norwegians,
Presented are the rest by the Swedish,
And the Norwegian award just the Nobel Peace Prize.
Alfred Nobel had died in the guilt,
The guilt of inventing such death.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
Sometimes I don't like what I see in the mirror.
Love handles over the jeans like grubby hands picking for the last slice of pizza.
Sometimes I don't like the words written on paper.
Words hunched over till 5am that still come scrambled as my breakfast.
Sometimes I don't like how I kiss you.
My lips not being able to move in the way your hips do in those jeans.
But...
Sometimes I can't handle love that I see for myself.
How I find every scar on my skin a Van Gogh of flesh and memory.
Sometimes Laughter can not help but shuffle its' way from my chest.
Every facebook status a Emmy award winning season of words
Sometimes I can not wait for the next day.
When I get to taste the air in my lungs only to have it taken away again by the sun.
Sometimes a love/hate relationship is good....sometimes.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
Children only grow up
when adults
aren't watching.
Father dear-
*(I learnt how to ride a bike without your hands keeping me steady.
I’ll learn how to live without your name on my conscience when I’m given away at graduations, at award ceremonies, at marriage.)*
-it's far too late to
want me back now.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
You say You want to breed _
me
You want to put Your seed _
in me
You want to get me face down _
naked
just don't need another Mr. _
Fake it
my brown skin spoiled for Your _
tongue
my heart beats a rhythm to Your _
drum
my essence is in sync with Your _
sensations
my love GPS is linked to Your _
vibrations
You can read my body's _
mysteries
You produce the scenes in my _
fantasies
You command my loyalty and _
attention
You wish i'd obey Your _
direction
the only gift You want is to _
control
i am the award You want to _
own
my belly burns for Your blue _
fire
my skin tied in Your knotted _
desire
Winter 2016
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.
I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.
Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next
Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?
All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand
Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day
I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does
I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid
But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.
Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,
"I wonder where that thing had been."
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt devestation
a death in the family took you by surprise
now you're contemplating suicide again
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt so proud
you graduated High School
you're screaming in your victory voice so loud
I stepped into your shoes today
and your heart is breaking
your boyfriend just broke up with you
you're throwing everything away that’s no longer worth saving
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt guilty
you cut after almost a year
now you're feeling ugly
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt depressed
you're getting ready to **** yourself
because you feel so helpless
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt scared
you're about to have your first baby
and the father isn’t there
I stepped into your shoes today
and I got a really bad tummy ache
you have Cancer and you're dying
there’s not much more your body can take
I stepped into your shoes today
and I started to cry
your husband was called into war
this could be your final goodbye
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt nervous
you're leaving for college in two days
and you can’t seem to find your courage
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt lost
you're five years old, you lost your Mom and it’s almost getting dark
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt overjoyed
you won an award for your writing
you are filled with so much pride
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt peace
you lived your life, you reached your dreams
you're as ready for death as you will ever be
I stepped into your shoes today
and I felt in love
you just married the love of your life
in front of your family, friends and God
I stepped back into my own shoes today
and I felt grateful
I realized I’m not the only one on earth with problems
and I’m thankful for all that I have
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Jesus Christ, Lord Almighty
Expel my demons and watch them die with me
Satan Lord, Leviathan
Give my demons an interesting origin
Plague me with poets smoking joints rolled with rejected poems
Fill my thoughts with cockney accented thespians
Let them hold Academy award nominations from films long forgotten
Enthuse my self-destruction
Bring me goth kids brought up in wholesome homes
Bring me Art school students choosing to abandon their degrees
Bring me women aroused by smashed clocks
Bring me men aroused by awkward teenagers
Bring me Christians questioning their faith
Lord Almighty, God, Yahweh, Jehovah
Tell me the story of your disagreements with Vishnu
Let me see Moloch's disgruntlement and subsequent drunk and disorderly
Show me when Hera was seducing your nephew
Bring me into the world of the soap opera battles
Write to me Paris
Write to me Paris
I want to read your poetry
I want to read your mind
Sing to me Helen
Embrace me and we shall escape from torments
Heavenly and humane
We shall watch hipsters walk past us
Smoking Spirits and drinking poison berry teas
Let Adam grow disgruntled
Let children laugh
If, Lord Jesus, you grant me my wish
Send me a djinn with evil in his heart
Who's bound to be annoyed by my desires
Send me an ent to lift me above my world
Send me an elf to love me for all my time
Send me a mountain to travel over home
Transport me to Germany
Transport me to Spain
Transport me to New Zealand
Give me a free pass, one-way ticket to Darwin's islands
Write my story so that I collect new, unprecedented species
And devour the flesh of my find
Hide me in Antarctica with a monstrous creation of my own mind
Let me eat
Let me gorge
Then starve me
Show me Caligula
Show me Marilyn Monroe
Then leave me with Ed Wood
And force me to watch his films so that I may inherit my grandfather's fortune in comic books
Which, of course, will bring her to love me again
Oh Lord Jesus
Lord of Hosts
Possess me so that I may live again
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
High school life makes me quite weary, history can be quite dreary,
More than once the class has given me a cause to snore,
While I sat there, fingers drumming, some modern tune I started humming,
I didn’t see the teacher coming, coming in the classroom door.
Normally, she was quite cheerful, humming from the classroom door,
But today she gave a roar.
All the class sat still and silent, knowing that she could turn violent,
And all fearing lasting indent that she could leave upon their head.
All that time I watched with worry; - wishing I had thought to scurry
Out the door in fit and flurry - flurry from the pending dread -
From the sure and ceaseless source of impending dread -
I hid ‘neath my desk instead.
And the roaring, raving, ranting teacher started in on chanting;
Save me - brave me couldn't handle this kind of class;
Now I sat there, my mind wandering, all my thoughts were set on squandering
All she spoke, my brain was pondering, my attention couldn’t last -
As she spoke my brain was pondering and my attention couldn’t last -
I could never hope to pass.
All around me kids were shaking, but no move toward freedom making,
I began to wonder if they had a clue what was in store;
Maybe they had heard her coming, while I had been busy humming,
Fingers on the desk were drumming, drumming so I wouldn’t snore
Maybe they had had a warning - of whatever was in store; -
I hoped that she wouldn’t roar.
Sitting there in constant terror, worried I would make some error,
And thus bring about her wrath upon my mortal head;
But she made no move to strike me, showed no sign she planned to spite me
I doubted that she’d think to bite me, maybe growl at me instead?
This thought made me shiver slightly, i’d rather her roar instead -
At least I could keep my head.
She began to motion towards me, I knew it wasn’t to award me,
Perhaps she had noticed that i wasn’t wide awake?
Either way, She’d given order, so i began my journey toward her
Maybe some day I’d adore her? How many classes would it take?
How much of her pitiless lecturing would it take?
My own life was now at stake.
Now that I had done her bidding, she was at her desk, just sitting,
Watching me with those eyes and her never blinking stare;
Never once her gaze shifted, the corners of her mouth weren’t lifted
It was as if a sense of humor had never been formed there -
As if her face had never shown the signs of laughter there -
I pretended to not care.
All the while, my thoughts racing, I was at her mercy, pacing,
The room of classmates I was facing, but they had begun to snore;
i thought she was a fluke in staffing, until i heard her laughing
Now her sullen, cold, and serious mood I had no reason to deplore -
Those heartless hoards of homework were no reason to deplore -
I was scared of her no more!
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:43 PM UTC
And lights.
She looked a little pale
In the yellow light.
The spots had been
Changed to white.
And when the white
Couldn't hide her pallor,
She asked the makeup
To put on a brighter colour.
They didn't ask if she had eaten.
They tried once,
Came back browbeaten.
"Diet only for ma'am"
Her abdomen perfectly satisfied;
Her soul craving for more.
And camera.
The perfect shot
Ended with a sweeping glance
Across the set
At her hero all decked
In the knightly splendour.
She was a princess whom
He saved from a dragon.
Little did anyone know
That after a day's worth
Of angry cameras panning
Her face and scrutinising her life,
She needed saving
Mostly from herself.
And action.
This time, a thriller.
She walks down the corridor set
- Director's thumbs-up,
To hunt down the culprit
Who snatched her family.
She gives the perfect action sequence,
Complete with blood trickles.
"An award winner, surely."
She is done with the shoot
And heads home, her van.
Someone is waiting.
He had been waiting since she left
Him that summer.
Waiting for an excuse, at first.
Then acceptance.
Then forgiveness.
She gave it her best performance,
But could not fake the relief
When he approached with an apology
And a gun.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
Black is your coffee
Toasted and buttered your bread
Half past seven,
A quick peck on the cheek
off you go to the bank
one solid day you spend at the bank
a loyal servant of the bank of commerce
Your lover number one,
the bank..always the bank...
you'd be at the bank till all workers gone home
you'd be at your desk checking the accounts
making it balance , counting the profits
recovering the loss...
If there is an award for the banker of the year
The outstanding achievement
and the bla... bla... bla...
The winner is you, without a doubt...
While you're making your accounts pretty
Perfecting your financial reports
The dinner is getting too cold
The kids are growing up so fast
Your cat is getting too old
Your wife is sulking too long
Your house is getting too far
Your family is slowly vanishing...
not physically of course...
the souls of love and life
is disappearing little by little...
Dear banker,
If you happen to listen to this
banker's wife blues...today
Hope you'd throw the balance sheets in the basket
and sit with your wife and kids
in a garden,
drinking a cup of English tea
Eating some home made biscuits...
How much bonus is more worthwhile
than watching your kids growing up
before your eyes...
kissing your wife good night
tasting the love doses...
Tell me, after listening to all these?
Will you still worry about your imbalance bank accounts?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
Softly, gently, I sipped
your red cherry-lip petals
patiently, silently, I grabbed
your brown nip-let buds
deeply, knowingly, I drowned
into your blue eye-oceans
The feminine body turns
to be a dates garden
amidst my own
barren desert !
Williamsji Maveli
Email: [email protected]
*
KGA (UAE Chapter)
Literary award for Poetry declared for
Williamsji Maveli’s “Arramviralthumbath…”
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's third poetry collection titled as “Arramviralthumbath …” (On the tip of the 6th finger, published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates. The award has also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named as “Maa Salama." ( means "With peace" in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches, focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years. Williamsji, (Williams George), former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for outstanding contributions to literature from the native writers of Kallettumkara, a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India. The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 10th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during September, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
Sometimes I catch myself thinkin’ about you with my fingers crossed.
And my eyes closed, like I’m wishing for something.
This is funny to me, because I learned recently
that my brain does this weird thing where it’s incapable of feeling superstitious.
I have always wanted a black cat.
You have always been a wishing well begging for the famished to come and dip their hands.
You wear a sign that says
“Take something, or leave something, doesn’t matter, just leave feeling won”
Leave feeling like you won.
This is how you will leave me.
When my fingers are crossed. Because then the promises don’t matter.
When my eyes are closed. Because it will hurt more to watch you leave
than to wonder if you crawled or if you ran.
When my teeth hurt, from all the chatter, from all the shake, from all the wisdom they extracted.
You know I’ve been leaving bite marks in the crust of the earth,
trying to find a wormhole that will take me to the moment you thought,
“hey, this girl’s gonna write poems about me every Friday” and
“hey, she won’t win me, but maybe she’ll win something”.
I'm the award winning heartache, I'm the pain they thought would last forever.
I'm my grandmother's years of Elvis & Jack Daniel's coming to the surface
and passing themselves off as vertigo.
You're the sum of the times you and the earth were in disagreement over your leaving.
You're the only thing that will shine when the sun dies.
We are Samson and Delilah. You are so sunshine.
I am grateful to the doctors that gave me second chances, I am grateful for the opportunity
that someday is engraved with.
This is how you will leave me.
I pray with my fingers crossed.
and my eyes closed, like I'm wishing for something.
I don't say Amen. I say thank you.
Thank you.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
I was three years out of high school and finally getting
the chance to grow up. I’d been ready since before
graduation day. Everybody in the world was certain
that I would fail. I couldn’t succeed. Thanks for the vote
of confidence. I am proving them wrong. I’m succeeding,
maybe not thriving, but succeeding right before their very eyes.
Success is living on my own. Being able to do every household
chore on my own. Success is getting myself to and from where
I need to be in my broken down, beat up wheelchair. Success
is budgeting my money each month. Success is not getting killed
and ***** on my walk home from work in the dark. Success is
living up to their standards and way of life. Success is faking a smile.
I’ve learned more about life in the last eight months than ever before.
I’ve made mistakes, just like they said I would. What they didn’t count
on was me learning from those mistakes and picking up the pieces.
They told me I wouldn’t last more than a month, six weeks at the most.
I would ***** up, fail miserably, get hurt and hospitalized. Thank you
for the boost of self-esteem. It’s made me tougher than steel.
I may not be the perfect student, skinny blonde ***** award winning
page designer or most eloquent writer. I may not speak Spanish fluently,
have loads of extra cash lying around or a motorized, state of the art
wheelchair. Stop telling me what I need. I don’t need or want any of them.
Success is living how I want to live. Success is a productive day when I want
nothing but hot tea and soft music. Success is having the confidence to ask
for help when I’ve been told I shouldn’t. Success is making friends who can
read through my masquerade. Success is facing the consequences. Success is
found through red ink marks and piles of papers. Success is not letting those
who don’t believe in me get the best of me. Success is sunshine on a cloudy day
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 9:29 PM UTC