"dak" poems - Hello Poetry

Ma Inħobbok Mhux dejjem naraw għajn b’għajn Imma nħobbok Naf li dejjem pruvajt mill-aħjar li stajt Biex tagħtini dak li int qatt ma ngħatajt Imma sfortunatament mhux dejjem irnexxilek Il-Mulej mhux dejjem provdilek Jien qatt m’għidtlek meta nqasstni Meta bin-nuqqas tiegħek warrabtni Qatt ma ridt niksirlek qalbek U ngħidlek li ħadd mhu qed jisma talbek Imma iva Ma, Weġġgħajt Għaddejt minn ħafna u int ma taf b’ xejn Alla ħares tkun taf kif u x’ fatta u fejn Bħalek Ma, Għaddejt minn dak li m’ għandu jgħaddi ħadd Ġarrabt id-dlam U bkejt fis-solitudni Imma issa Ma Sa fl-ahhar... Inħoss li sibt il-kuntentizza Inħoss li qbadt it-trejqa li qed nibni jien Ma rridx nibqa naħbilek iktar Għajjejt nigdeb u nħaref Allura għidtlek Ma flaħtx inżomm iktar U għidtlek Kienet diffiċli għax kont beżgħana Imma ridt naqsam din l-aħbar ferħana Stennejt li ser tifhimni Stennejt li xorta waħda ser tibqa tħobbni Imma Ir-reazzjoni tiegħek ma kienetx dik li stennejt Ma kienetx dik li f’ moħħi pinġejt Għalfejn Ma? Għalfejn ma tridnix? Għalfejn mhux taċċettani? Għidli Ma Lil min inħobb ma għandux jaffettwa kemm inti tħobb lili Lil min inħobb ma għandux inessik li jien xorta waħda bintek Mara offritli dak li dejjem fittixt Mara għallmitni nagħraf x’inhi l-imħabba Mara urietni kif jidher id-dawl fost id-dlam Mara qed tgħini nsir inħobb lili nnifsi Iva Ma Inħobb mara U mhux raġel Għalfejn qed tħares lejja b’ dak il-mod Ma? B’ ħarsa ta’ diżappunt B’ ħarsa ta’ diżgust Bintek għadni Ma L-istess **** li kont tgħannaq miegħek Meta kont tħoss li d-dinja qed tikrolla L-istess **** li kont tiftaħar tgħid li hi tiegħek Lil kull min taf meta tilmaħni fost il-folla Ħobbni Ma Nitolbok L-istess għadni Biss, ħrigt mill-moħba 15/10/2018

0

Dec 9, 2018

Dec 9, 2018 at 6:35 AM UTC

simplewritings

Lil Għażieża Ommi

Ma Inħobbok Mhux dejjem naraw għajn b’għajn Imma nħobbok Naf li dejjem pruvajt mill-aħjar li stajt Biex tagħtini dak li int qatt ma ngħatajt Imma sfortunatament mhux dejjem irnexxilek Il-Mulej mhux dejjem provdilek Jien qatt m’għidtlek meta nqasstni Meta bin-nuqqas tiegħek warrabtni Qatt ma ridt niksirlek qalbek U ngħidlek li ħadd mhu qed jisma talbek Imma iva Ma, Weġġgħajt Għaddejt minn ħafna u int ma taf b’ xejn Alla ħares tkun taf kif u x’ fatta u fejn Bħalek Ma, Għaddejt minn dak li m’ għandu jgħaddi ħadd Ġarrabt id-dlam U bkejt fis-solitudni Imma issa Ma Sa fl-ahhar... Inħoss li sibt il-kuntentizza Inħoss li qbadt it-trejqa li qed nibni jien Ma rridx nibqa naħbilek iktar Għajjejt nigdeb u nħaref Allura għidtlek Ma flaħtx inżomm iktar U għidtlek Kienet diffiċli għax kont beżgħana Imma ridt naqsam din l-aħbar ferħana Stennejt li ser tifhimni Stennejt li xorta waħda ser tibqa tħobbni Imma Ir-reazzjoni tiegħek ma kienetx dik li stennejt Ma kienetx dik li f’ moħħi pinġejt Għalfejn Ma? Għalfejn ma tridnix? Għalfejn mhux taċċettani? Għidli Ma Lil min inħobb ma għandux jaffettwa kemm inti tħobb lili Lil min inħobb ma għandux inessik li jien xorta waħda bintek Mara offritli dak li dejjem fittixt Mara għallmitni nagħraf x’inhi l-imħabba Mara urietni kif jidher id-dawl fost id-dlam Mara qed tgħini nsir inħobb lili nnifsi Iva Ma Inħobb mara U mhux raġel Għalfejn qed tħares lejja b’ dak il-mod Ma? B’ ħarsa ta’ diżappunt B’ ħarsa ta’ diżgust Bintek għadni Ma L-istess **** li kont tgħannaq miegħek Meta kont tħoss li d-dinja qed tikrolla L-istess **** li kont tiftaħar tgħid li hi tiegħek Lil kull min taf meta tilmaħni fost il-folla Ħobbni Ma Nitolbok L-istess għadni Biss, ħrigt mill-moħba 15/10/2018

62

I haven't slept for two days now. The nights pass by slowly as I am in deep thought, my grandmother’s radio plays at full volume in the other room, and my parents and uncle talk loudly into the ears of their loved ones an ocean away. I hear my father tell his brother to search for his son among the bodies of the dead, I hear my mother asking for the latest news and picture her standing there holding her breathe as she listens to the tired frantic voice of the person on the other end of the line, and I play the scene over and over again where my grandmother walks slowly into my room, with a back, hunched because of years of hard labor. She stares at me with a wrinkled face and a look in her eyes that I recall seeing only a few times but only when she speaks of her past, during the rough times. She asks me if I know what's going on, and I tell her yes. Then she begins to summarize anyways, speaking in a lowered voice so that is just above a whisper enunciating each word clearly and I understand despite the usual misunderstandings between me and her, I nod my head, and release noises known worldwide to reassure someone who is speaking that the audience is listening. And as her words become separated by seconds that tell stories in themselves, and that look in her eyes, she says in a grave voice and in a language that seems so familiar yet foreign, “chi we dak, chi we dak” then she turns around and walks out of the room in the same fashion in which she came in. I ponder her words as I sit there. “The world has broken, the world has broken.”

0

May 22, 2014

May 22, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC

uncaged

War

I haven't slept for two days now. The nights pass by slowly as I am in deep thought, my grandmother’s radio plays at full volume in the other room, and my parents and uncle talk loudly into the ears of their loved ones an ocean away. I hear my father tell his brother to search for his son among the bodies of the dead, I hear my mother asking for the latest news and picture her standing there holding her breathe as she listens to the tired frantic voice of the person on the other end of the line, and I play the scene over and over again where my grandmother walks slowly into my room, with a back, hunched because of years of hard labor. She stares at me with a wrinkled face and a look in her eyes that I recall seeing only a few times but only when she speaks of her past, during the rough times. She asks me if I know what's going on, and I tell her yes. Then she begins to summarize anyways, speaking in a lowered voice so that is just above a whisper enunciating each word clearly and I understand despite the usual misunderstandings between me and her, I nod my head, and release noises known worldwide to reassure someone who is speaking that the audience is listening. And as her words become separated by seconds that tell stories in themselves, and that look in her eyes, she says in a grave voice and in a language that seems so familiar yet foreign, “chi we dak, chi we dak” then she turns around and walks out of the room in the same fashion in which she came in. I ponder her words as I sit there. “The world has broken, the world has broken.”

6

I. '88 dakota mondays still **** granted i don't get up at the crack of dawn no more but around noon i always feel the need to leave the rest of the day behind me and take the big red monster out and go to the beach and contemplate my life for hours, so i'll reach into my tattered 35 year old prada bag for a lanyard that says "nirvana" on it (like the band, not the stage of buddhism), but then i remember that gas guzzler and i got 337 miles between us, no more, no less. II. whidbey on wednesdays i feel like i've shifted into an alternate universe where there are things other than evergreen trees and dirt roads, where the view when i look out the window is an interstate and dagger-like icicles that are as tall as me. maybe it started when they took down the texaco star in freeland and maybe it started the day i left, but i'm not sure if i can remember what home feels like anymore. III. you i still miss you on thursdays, sometimes saturdays. i know, i thought i woulda found someone better by now too till i realized that i'd been giving myself false hope this entire time. no one will ever be you. no one's teeth will curve the same way. no one will ever love the home teams as much as you. no one will ever smile as hard when i give them my last kit-kat in a strip mall parking lot at sunset. they drink to dak prescott and spit wintergreen griz more than you ever did. i thought i would find someone better until i walked into the coldest part of heaven with some crinkled twenty dollar bills and a carharrt jacket. -z. vega

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Jan 17, 2017

Jan 17, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC

doniakashkooli

rubber soul

I. '88 dakota mondays still **** granted i don't get up at the crack of dawn no more but around noon i always feel the need to leave the rest of the day behind me and take the big red monster out and go to the beach and contemplate my life for hours, so i'll reach into my tattered 35 year old prada bag for a lanyard that says "nirvana" on it (like the band, not the stage of buddhism), but then i remember that gas guzzler and i got 337 miles between us, no more, no less. II. whidbey on wednesdays i feel like i've shifted into an alternate universe where there are things other than evergreen trees and dirt roads, where the view when i look out the window is an interstate and dagger-like icicles that are as tall as me. maybe it started when they took down the texaco star in freeland and maybe it started the day i left, but i'm not sure if i can remember what home feels like anymore. III. you i still miss you on thursdays, sometimes saturdays. i know, i thought i woulda found someone better by now too till i realized that i'd been giving myself false hope this entire time. no one will ever be you. no one's teeth will curve the same way. no one will ever love the home teams as much as you. no one will ever smile as hard when i give them my last kit-kat in a strip mall parking lot at sunset. they drink to dak prescott and spit wintergreen griz more than you ever did. i thought i would find someone better until i walked into the coldest part of heaven with some crinkled twenty dollar bills and a carharrt jacket. -z. vega

7

I want the world in my hands, But it's too dak outside for conquering, I want to touch the stars, But it's too cold outside for flying, I need to feel the air, But the wind will mess up my hair, I need to hear the birds, But I'm too afraid of getting hurt, I want the grass under my feet, But thorns are hiding out of sight, I want to relax in the ocean, But creatures are lurking in the night, I need to feel the suns rays, But it's too hot outisde today, I need to go to school, But the students there are cruel, I haven't spoken in months, Because I'm too afraid of getting hurt.

0

Mar 1, 2016

Mar 1, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC

lukas-mosley

Social Anxiety

I want the world in my hands, But it's too dak outside for conquering, I want to touch the stars, But it's too cold outside for flying, I need to feel the air, But the wind will mess up my hair, I need to hear the birds, But I'm too afraid of getting hurt, I want the grass under my feet, But thorns are hiding out of sight, I want to relax in the ocean, But creatures are lurking in the night, I need to feel the suns rays, But it's too hot outisde today, I need to go to school, But the students there are cruel, I haven't spoken in months, Because I'm too afraid of getting hurt.

18

Ek is 'n alleen vlieënde uil Ek ry op die rug van die wind Niemand kan my hou nie Niemand kan my vang nie Ek lei 'n nagtelike lewe Vol misterie Deur die dag slaap ek En ek **** ... ek **** nogal baie Ek sit hier bo in my boom Ek kyk af op die mensdom Dom is omtrent die woord Ek wonder hoeveel wysheid julle het Ek wonder of julle weet *** groot 'n gebrek aan wysheid julle het Dan in die stilte van die nag sing ek hoo hoo Om die bygelowiges en die klein gelowiges te rattle Veral wanneer ek op hulle huis se dak gaan sit Dadelik skreeu hulle ... Iemand gaan dood! Dan lag ek lekker in my vlerk vir die klomp simpel goed Wat hieronder my rond skarrel ... Aih julle klomp liggelowige My oë kyk deur julle En ek weet dat julle my nie verstaan nie *** kan julle tog ... Nooit!!! Ek bly verre weg van die mens en die dom Wat net wil moor en vernietig ... Di's julle natuur Ek hou my een kant ... Want ek is een kant

0

Dec 28, 2020

Dec 28, 2020 at 6:58 AM UTC

SeanAchilleos

Die Alleen Uil

Ek is 'n alleen vlieënde uil Ek ry op die rug van die wind Niemand kan my hou nie Niemand kan my vang nie Ek lei 'n nagtelike lewe Vol misterie Deur die dag slaap ek En ek **** ... ek **** nogal baie Ek sit hier bo in my boom Ek kyk af op die mensdom Dom is omtrent die woord Ek wonder hoeveel wysheid julle het Ek wonder of julle weet *** groot 'n gebrek aan wysheid julle het Dan in die stilte van die nag sing ek hoo hoo Om die bygelowiges en die klein gelowiges te rattle Veral wanneer ek op hulle huis se dak gaan sit Dadelik skreeu hulle ... Iemand gaan dood! Dan lag ek lekker in my vlerk vir die klomp simpel goed Wat hieronder my rond skarrel ... Aih julle klomp liggelowige My oë kyk deur julle En ek weet dat julle my nie verstaan nie *** kan julle tog ... Nooit!!! Ek bly verre weg van die mens en die dom Wat net wil moor en vernietig ... Di's julle natuur Ek hou my een kant ... Want ek is een kant

25

det orange skær lægger sig som et yndefuldt lag over alle de opsatte trekanter, der så fint repræsenterer den syvdags-beboende flok af festglade mennesker, der dag for dag snor sig spruttende af glæde rundt mellem de mange stier, der opfyldes af et ocean af humørfyldte druklege jeg selv er en del af det og jeg trasker nynnende rundt mellem lattergaspatroner, smadrede oliofska flasker og knækkede stoleben lad os kalde det en smuk losseplads der er noget helt specielt ved atmosfæren også selv når hovederne sumre og pumpes op af den nu velkendte klang af dak og når man næsten dehydrerende, forstår manglen på alt det vand man burde ha indtaget i stedet for det euforiserende væske et sødt pars hænder smelter sammen i aftensolens skær, lige inden de vender sig mod hinanden og blidt lader deres læber mødes. Selve romantikken i seancen, bliver desværre hurtigt udvekslet med et råsnaveri og jeg ryster let på hovedet. Samtidigt står jeg og overvejer alvoren i den thomas helmig sang, mine ører skuer i det fjerne. Det hele får mig til at tænke over, hvad ægte kærlighed egentlig er en brummende bas drøner bagfra forbi os, og jeg opfanger i selvsamme sekund, at den gigantiske højtaler, imponerende nok, er blevet hægtet fast på cyklen med knapt så sparsomme mængder gaffatape og jeg tænker, at cyklens skarpe sving, har en vis lighed med den roterende fornemmelse af lidelse, der mærkes dybt langs min rygsøjle om det er fra mit efterhånden propfyldte net med unødvendigt gøgl eller de mange udmattende gåture på pladsen er jeg ikke helt klar over nu ligger jeg herhjemme ikke i teltet, som jeg nu havde vænnet mig til men helt hjemme alt i alt har jeg en mærkværdig fornemmelse af, at skulle vanedanne mig selv ind i roskildes dagsrutiner, hvilket ville være en stor overbelastning for den ellers ganske normale hverdag men jeg sidder alligevel her, inde i min egen boble og tænker at min modreaktion på savnen, vel umuligt bør være andet end at lede efter de små værdifulde ligheder, der kan genskabe min fascination af roskilde festivalens mange glæder

0

Sep 13, 2016

Sep 13, 2016 at 3:29 AM UTC

Louiselarsen22

roskilde tanker pt 2

det orange skær lægger sig som et yndefuldt lag over alle de opsatte trekanter, der så fint repræsenterer den syvdags-beboende flok af festglade mennesker, der dag for dag snor sig spruttende af glæde rundt mellem de mange stier, der opfyldes af et ocean af humørfyldte druklege jeg selv er en del af det og jeg trasker nynnende rundt mellem lattergaspatroner, smadrede oliofska flasker og knækkede stoleben lad os kalde det en smuk losseplads der er noget helt specielt ved atmosfæren også selv når hovederne sumre og pumpes op af den nu velkendte klang af dak og når man næsten dehydrerende, forstår manglen på alt det vand man burde ha indtaget i stedet for det euforiserende væske et sødt pars hænder smelter sammen i aftensolens skær, lige inden de vender sig mod hinanden og blidt lader deres læber mødes. Selve romantikken i seancen, bliver desværre hurtigt udvekslet med et råsnaveri og jeg ryster let på hovedet. Samtidigt står jeg og overvejer alvoren i den thomas helmig sang, mine ører skuer i det fjerne. Det hele får mig til at tænke over, hvad ægte kærlighed egentlig er en brummende bas drøner bagfra forbi os, og jeg opfanger i selvsamme sekund, at den gigantiske højtaler, imponerende nok, er blevet hægtet fast på cyklen med knapt så sparsomme mængder gaffatape og jeg tænker, at cyklens skarpe sving, har en vis lighed med den roterende fornemmelse af lidelse, der mærkes dybt langs min rygsøjle om det er fra mit efterhånden propfyldte net med unødvendigt gøgl eller de mange udmattende gåture på pladsen er jeg ikke helt klar over nu ligger jeg herhjemme ikke i teltet, som jeg nu havde vænnet mig til men helt hjemme alt i alt har jeg en mærkværdig fornemmelse af, at skulle vanedanne mig selv ind i roskildes dagsrutiner, hvilket ville være en stor overbelastning for den ellers ganske normale hverdag men jeg sidder alligevel her, inde i min egen boble og tænker at min modreaktion på savnen, vel umuligt bør være andet end at lede efter de små værdifulde ligheder, der kan genskabe min fascination af roskilde festivalens mange glæder

30

its like walking in to a dak woom with no lights room and deperately looking for a light swiththat isn't there. Like chiking on every word you say, terrifie of the resoce that spills through your ****** cracks=ed lips. I cant close my eyes. i see nothng at all. I feel it all. Everthing in its place that;s not supposed to be there. walls necorted wall decortate with fist chaped wholesand shatter glass judt lkr nre carpet. I close my eye and i see his face. All of the face. His long beard cover in whiskey, her thin hair, the way she said, "im going to kiss you like adults do." It swollows me whole. It take my minutes, my hours, my days stripped away from me. I am nothing to be to be cared for, I am nothing but dissasociated mindlessness. You stole it all from me. Every part of me was ripped away like fragibe bir bines. Drape me in this body bag of satin sheets. I'm too sick. Like a flu in my mid. there is not cure.

0

Mar 21, 2017

Mar 21, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC

katcole

Untitled

its like walking in to a dak woom with no lights room and deperately looking for a light swiththat isn't there. Like chiking on every word you say, terrifie of the resoce that spills through your ****** cracks=ed lips. I cant close my eyes. i see nothng at all. I feel it all. Everthing in its place that;s not supposed to be there. walls necorted wall decortate with fist chaped wholesand shatter glass judt lkr nre carpet. I close my eye and i see his face. All of the face. His long beard cover in whiskey, her thin hair, the way she said, "im going to kiss you like adults do." It swollows me whole. It take my minutes, my hours, my days stripped away from me. I am nothing to be to be cared for, I am nothing but dissasociated mindlessness. You stole it all from me. Every part of me was ripped away like fragibe bir bines. Drape me in this body bag of satin sheets. I'm too sick. Like a flu in my mid. there is not cure.

19

He stares at the whizzing blades above the bed, recalling each face during moonlight hours— civilians twitching with each bullet as they slam into walls, finally trapped. His hands, trembling, remain bare but the faint iron odor sits under his nose, unmoving since 1967 in Dak Son. Defeated cries pierce the early morning silence in the village. A baby whimpers next to the body of his mother. Women’s feet pound against gray dirt, an anthem for the safety of children. He visits fallen brothers, squinting at endless rows of gravestones. The villagers all lie together.

0

Nov 11, 2014

Nov 11, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC

b-wynn

Equivalent Exchange

He stares at the whizzing blades above the bed, recalling each face during moonlight hours— civilians twitching with each bullet as they slam into walls, finally trapped. His hands, trembling, remain bare but the faint iron odor sits under his nose, unmoving since 1967 in Dak Son. Defeated cries pierce the early morning silence in the village. A baby whimpers next to the body of his mother. Women’s feet pound against gray dirt, an anthem for the safety of children. He visits fallen brothers, squinting at endless rows of gravestones. The villagers all lie together.

14

Żmien ta’ ferħ w ’nnoċenza ta’ sempliċita u purezza Żmien ħieles mill-inkwiet u mżejjen bil-paċi fis-skiet Dak li dejjem smajt u dak li dejjem tgħallimt Pero m’ huwiex dak li esperjenzajt m’ huwiex dak li ngħatajt Mingħalihom li tawni kollox Mingħalihom li ma naqsuni f’xejn Mur għidilhom kemm battejt Kemm minħabba fihom soffrejt Noħlom bi tfulija sempliċi u pura Nixtieq li ġejt mogħtija bidu ta’ ħajja sura 16/04/2009

0

Dec 1, 2018

Dec 1, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC

simplewritings

It-Tfulija

Żmien ta’ ferħ w ’nnoċenza ta’ sempliċita u purezza Żmien ħieles mill-inkwiet u mżejjen bil-paċi fis-skiet Dak li dejjem smajt u dak li dejjem tgħallimt Pero m’ huwiex dak li esperjenzajt m’ huwiex dak li ngħatajt Mingħalihom li tawni kollox Mingħalihom li ma naqsuni f’xejn Mur għidilhom kemm battejt Kemm minħabba fihom soffrejt Noħlom bi tfulija sempliċi u pura Nixtieq li ġejt mogħtija bidu ta’ ħajja sura 16/04/2009

17