"nadia" poems
And then
you find someone who
understands you don't
need them
but
there's an irreplaceable
desire for them
soaring through your body
© 2015 Rhea Nadia
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
HAJARO NADIA BAHATI
VASHUDHA KI CHHATI PAR
NALE BHI PUJATI
BHAGIRATHI KI MATI PAR
BHAGIRATH KE ANURODH SE, BRAMHA KE VARADAN ME NIKALI MAA SURYA VANSH KO TARANE. BAHATI THI KABHI MAND SANGEET ME RUKI HUI HAI AB KIS PIR ME.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
"Nadia"
"Hope," it means.
"Beautiful," they say.
"Kind," she is.
"Caring," they are.
"Nadia."
She is the ever-hopeful,
The triply beautiful,
The very kindhearted,
The infinitely caring.
"Nadia"'s.
They are the unendingly positive,
The unfairly lovely,
The unduly affable,
The unfailingly kind.
"Nadia," oh, how she shines
So brightly, so comfortingly.
"Nadia," oh, how she loves
Without judgement or favor.
But I am not "Nadia."
I am Nadia.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
stôrm/
a violent disturbance of the atmosphere.
of my atmosphere
You are the only one I lived through.
- In a sense of comfort and survival.
They warned me about you.
They told me to pack my things while I was young and had time.
They told me to pack light because I would need what energy I had left.
THEY TOLD ME.
but I believed you would be gentle. I knew I had done just the right amount of observing and that I had you figured out. I told them not to worry about me because I knew exactly what I was dealing with. I told them I would love you, no matter the damage. "There is nothing that cannot be fixed."
And to this day I'm still holding onto that, trying to believe it.
This home I spent 22 years building and securing, is now one with the ground.
My walls that I finally found the perfect shade of teal for, all red now.
Standing in the middle of this ruin, no windows, no door, nowhere to hide.
I have fallen into disrepair and you meant to do it. It's in your nature and I knew it!
Was it confidence or ignorance that led to my unseeing belief in you?
(your ability to be tender and serene)
"The calm after the storm..." Is that what I was supposed to hope for?
No, of course not. I should have known better than that because we all know
Storms never do last forever.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
DRESSMAKERS to the stars J’Aton have turned designer detectives after one of their most valuable couture gowns was stolen from a bride’s home last week.
The one-of-a-kind gown, which was stolen from Leanne Bartucca’s Greenvale residence along with other valuables, is estimated to be worth more than $40,000.
It weighs more than 18kg, and features intricate 100-year-old vintage French lace that has been carved and sculpted onto leather and layered tulle.
J’Aton designers Anthony Pittorino and Jacob Luppino, who also made the wedding gowns of Rebecca Judd, Nadia Bartel, Jodi Gordon and Yvette Prieto, wife of Michael Jordan, are appealing to the public in the hope that if it goes for sale online, someone will recognise the distinctive dress.
“We are so devastated for our dear friend Leanne; that dress has a special place in our hearts and is so sentimental to us all,” the pair said.
“It’s a dress that we created especially for Leanne, it has her and her husband’s initials embroidered into the train and we just hope that if anyone recognises the distinguishable design for sale on websites or social media, that they report it to the police.”
Ms Bartucca, who wore the dress in March, 2014, says she has been devastated by its theft.
“It’s such a sentimental thing; my family and the J’Aton boys have been checking the internet daily in the hopes that we will see it for sale,” she said.
“I had dreams of using the fabric from it for my children’s christening gowns, and even framing a section of the fabric for our home.
“[The thieves] definitely knew what they were doing. As a former fashion buyer, I was surprised how much they knew — what they left behind was just as telling as what they took.
“They could tell the difference between real and fake jewellery, they left certain shoe brands behind and obviously went straight for the J’Aton dress, which was covered in tissue paper and in a white box at the top of the wardrobe.”
Police said they were investigating whether the burglary was in relation to another in the same area.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Always for a reason bigger than both of us.
I cannot adjust these attributes you're so intent on changing.
The more I ask for you to just love me as I am, the further you draw away.
Like running towards the ocean when the waves are receding
then having them crash right into you once you're leaving...
its the way you cause me to feel.
The only way you cause me to feel.
The only feeling you're accustomed to causing.
Perhaps the only custom you're causing yourself to feel?
*You hate to love yourself
but you love to hate me.*
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC
She'll be digging her toes in the California sands
Only Being catered to by the loveliest of hands.
Her heavenly vocals will take her to the top of the charts
Mangling and delighting a billion hearts
She'll be the next Beyonce or Lana Del Ray
But probably something better, many would say.
She'll get everything she wants, all and more
I just hope she remembers me when I see her on tour
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
sweat drips down my face,
the floor swims beneath me
and smoke ribbons out of my mouth and nose.
mid-summer in an Arabic bar
with some ******* touching the dancer all over
and saying ******* over and over again.
he stares at her hips.
the mirror is on one side of me,
and one half of a pair of speakers is beside
my ear.
it's gigantic.
it blares music that my friend tells
me is from some new Bollywood movie.
two hands grab mine and i'm up.
one link in a circle, dancing a
Middle-Eastern two-step that's only slightly
familiar.
faces come in and out of my line of sight.
i recognize none
and feel as if i'm in a Salman Rushdie novel.
maybe i'm Haroun, in a new place with a blue genie
saving a sea of stories, a princess, a land, and my father.
but then again, maybe not.
i would never save my father.
i spin, spin, spin
until i can't see straight.
i wake the next morning on the belly
dancers couch.
my friends are having coffee with her
and discussing whether or not to
take me to the hospital.
Nadia found some blow in my pocket
and flushed it down the toilet.
she found *** in the other and put it back.
they had decided to let me sleep
and from then on call me "American Dream."
Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 12:37 PM UTC
Covid 19
November 2019,
seeping in
Wuhan , China,
Locally,
Nationally,
Internationally,
Globally,
Around the Earth,
criss crossing.
Spreading fast, shaking us,
insidiuously,
waging a cruel war at us.
Our human cells
fighting on and on,
some tragically
others triumphantly
with the help of our medical heroes.
That Disease
Can’t Own Victory Definitely!
Together, we’ll triumph!
Nadia Brouk
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 11:24 AM UTC
This cafe is no Starbucks.
No tea leaf&coffee; bean here.
They don't even play music.
Instead of tables and stools,
I've found myself lounged on top
of a quaint, bohemian styled sofa.
I'm figuring the target atmosphere is comfort.
Its fitting, but not for me.
Old memories are sitting on the sofa across, staring right at me.
I have to remind myself not to wave.
*"Don't give in to nostalgia.
Forget us all. If you do and you come back, don't come see me."*
Be that the representation of everything I have to let go.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
soft yellow lamp light,
dark blue sweat stains--
a snarl,
a birdsong,
Nadia's accusation finger,
my obituary daydream--
the tension nooses my neck,
gimme more.
Nadia ***** her eyes--
fires a machine gun's worth,
I die a thousand times,
with a smile and an unopened pack
of cigarettes--
Nadia keeps blackmailing me--
******* send the message,
I've never been more bored
of the unravel--
I've never been more sold
on arrival.
Apr 12, 2011
Apr 12, 2011 at 8:28 PM UTC
I walk on fire, my spirit is the beam.
This confidence that’s on my skin, I can’t take off.
It’s glowing and giving off shimmer, even in the dark.
I didn’t ask to be seen. Only needed to be heard.
My voice is dry, no flicker, no flare.
Domineering my way through the flood of still flesh, just to be the tongue of volume.
Refusing to subscribe to the code of this noxious world.
I am not the cure to worriment,
I AM THE THE RESTORATIVE FOR MY OWN ANIMA.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
To stand in my place means
to kneel where I've fallen.
It means crawling where
I've learned to walk
© 2015 Rhea Nadia
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Songstress
by Michael R. Burch
for Nadia Anjuman
Within its starkwhite ribcage, how the heart
must flutter wildly, O, and always sing
against the pressing darkness: all it knows
until at last it feels the numbing sting
of death. Then life’s brief vision swiftly passes,
imposing night on one who clearly saw.
Death held your bright heart tightly, till its maw—
envenomed, fanged—could swallow, whole, your Awe.
And yet it was not death so much as you
who sealed your doom; you could not help but sing
and not be silenced. Here, behold your tomb’s
white alabaster cage: pale, wretched thing!
But you’ll not be imprisoned here, wise wren!
Your words soar free; rise, sing, fly, live again
Keywords/Tags: Nadia Anjuman, Afghanistan, Afghani poet, poetess, death, martyr, hero, heroine, voice, freedom, equality, justice
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:51 AM UTC
This is a man (Malcolm X) I believe gave our Black people confidence in times most needed. He extended common sense amongst scrambled minds and perspective to scholars who thought they had it figured out. His methods, must like a scientist. I'm speaking of the way he even compartmentalized subjects with much harmony and such fluidity. I respect the approaches he took to bind our Black people. I know that he held sincere compassion for the progress of our Black communities. This is why he weighs so heavy on us 50 years later. Probably heavier than ever, he resonates. He rises every time the consistent bullet of injustice pierces the flesh of our people. Each time one falls victim to ignorance or returns to the way they know better than to follow, Malcolm X is there. He is in our Black men, the rebellious hunger. The starvation and thirst will drive you to a point of discipline and control of self or the continuous massacre of dignity, pride and structure in the Black body. We are failing ourselves. We were once victims and for too long stayed that way. We are surely oppressed and have been for too long but we are not to feel sorry for ourselves. We are not to help the oppressor further press us down into our own graves. We are not victims anymore. We are not to allow others to sympathize for us. We are not the minority, they may say what they will. We have learned far too many lessons and we have had far too many teachers to continue letting this ignorance run through and destroy our beauty. Volumes of lectures, instructions - literally the key to rising is in our possession and we have failed generation after generation to seam our strengths and unlock what is already ours. We have been warned, it will not be an easy task nor a joyful journey. We will fight, we will bleed, we will not rest many nights, we will not look the same many years from now, we will not hold the same energy, we will not have the amount of time that we have at this very moment. The amount of time that we have to wake up, change and be better for those looking for answers 50 years from now. **Like those before us, it is up to us to leave our words, power and visions as the foundation of inspiration, as the response for what our struggle has really meant and the love that has to be built to get us there. *
*© 2015 Rhea Nadia
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
There's a rhythm to these 6 a.m. clouds.
A story to tell in each swirl of color
... much like her eyes, a blend of hazel.
Cloaked in mystery - and misery.
Proof that the traveling winds live within the strands of her light hair.
The blended beauty that blew from coast to coast...
6 a.m. feels like love.
As sure as you see daylight, there she is.
The woman who kissed those clouds behind millions of stars
just to prove that love goes the distance.
6 a.m. lasts all day, somewhere in the world.
© 2015 Rhea Nadia
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
If I could capture this moment
And always remember
What you look like, lying there
I’d capture this moment in all its splendour,
Each soft second passing, so fragile, so tender
As I watch the time tick by, you move further away
In my mind’s eye
I’d capture this moment so that I couldn’t forget
To waste your memory a silly regret
And even as the sands of time slide on
Our hearts and souls will never be far from
I’d capture this moment so that you’d never look away
Not looking at me, is enough to say
The words I’d hate to hear
That twists and threads into my fear
I’d capture this moment and freeze it and hold it
And never let another own it
I’d capture this moment so that if it were to ever end
I would never have to spend
Another moment without you...
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
Let us lay in each other’s arms for love, not for rest.
To be born a second time and nurtured by each other’s heartbeats.
Let us create a sculpture from this emotional ********
Mold yourself inside my passionate flesh.
Allow your heart to reach where your hands cannot.
Allow your emotions to seep into the crevices your fingers cant.
Tie your limbs around mine to represent the gravitational attraction we’ve been fortunate enough to strike.
Let’s just lay here in each other’s arms like we’ll never lay our love to rest.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
/NI LIFE/
Sometimes mi hu-wrong nikijaribu ku-correct,na mi si perfect so daily niko kwa risklt ya ku-loose vitu ata nili-collect,so we skiza hii tune,yeah ofcourse hii tune si unajua mali safi zi huzinduliwa June.Pingu za maisha nishanunua shoneni vitenge juu nazifunga soon.
Samahani,back then kudish kwa sahani kwangu ilisound kifahari,world yangu ilikuwa so untrue na mauongo ki-kanyari,kupata kwangu then ilisound ka monkey kuonekana kalahari,nyi mkinyonga tai zangu nabaki ni nyoka nanyonga,ni saa nane usiku nikiexhaust my poetic pen igeuze words ziwe dishi,DJ akiscratch ilikuwa opportunity ya kuflow nayo na mistari haziishi,mtaa 1960 ndio iliniwai courage ya kusimama mbele ya mahater nikiwashow hii mwaka haiishi meza moja na nyinyi tudishi.
Mi hu-acknoledge power ya sir God jo juu ya kuniblessia creativity tangu pre-unit,usitafte amani bila unity certificate ya kugraduate from petty poet to plenty of poems nikailaminate na case ya glass,after kuchoma kuna wasee nilianza nao na siko nao si zao ziliwashow wako "high" class,hii dunia ni ya God so ka unaplan downfall yangu jua success naiwai a thousand times plus.
Hii sanaa mi hufanya si rahisi,ata ka Nadia na kalikuwa kashaa tamba ilibidi ameitisha maombi,ka si Sunday siogi,mi nimezoea kula jasho yangu that's why unaskia nikiongea sh*t that is stinky.
So ukihustle na biz ya kuuza charcoal jua ***** hands zi hukuwa sign ya clean money,na since muka aende silent mi ndio nimekuwa nikiwasha nare kwa stage bila lyta,mi ndio nimekuwa nikijua mbona mapema ye hurauka.Hii time short nimekuwa hapa nilikuwa na blessings za mama no wonder sijastammer,ka nimekubamba scratch kwa tenje uniseti...stage ndio home na sijaplan kuhama.
-P€TT¥PO€T ✍️
©2020.
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 3:12 AM UTC
I have taken so many breaths,
without you.
I have taken so many steps,
without you.
I have witnessed so many sunrises and seen so many sunsets,
without you.
I have waken up so many mornings
without you
and
slept countless nights,
without you.
I have showered many days,
without you.
I have lived through so many moons,
without you.
So when you step into my world,
I expect you to show me things
and fill me with miraculous sensations
that I could never experience,
without you.
© 2015 Rhea Nadia
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
I want to feel alive
But instead all I feel is the strangling weight of my life
I want to do something
I want to be something
No
I want to be someone
This small town just isn't enough for me anymore
In all honesty, it never was
Because Missouri rhymes with Misery and sometimes that's all I can think about
This life is suffocating
I can’t stand it anymore
I have to get out and do something
I can’t just stay here and watch my life slip by
At my age Nadia Comaneci received 3 Olympic Gold Medals for gymnastics
Why can’t I do something like that?
I often think about what it would be like to just leave
I don’t mean dying
I mean running away
I often find my right brain is often caught drifting to what life would be like if I could make it to New York
But then my left brain starts to function again and instead my thoughts turn to how I would die of pneumonia in the snow
Sometimes I believe that’s still far more entertaining than my current situation
I want to do something great in my lifetime
The scariest thought of all is that I never will and I’ll turn out to be trailer trash and I’m not sure I can cope with that
Yes, I want to do something and be someone
But most of all, I want to feel alive
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
*I need irreversible affection.
I need timeless passion.
I need allusive arousal.
Love is just the other half..
Give a first hand testimony to our bond.
Pay tribute to the nexus..
This connection is erected.*
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
He said I was all fire and no light.
all fire and no light
I have a strong mouth with no bite.
A fitting passion but won’t fight.
I’m all shell. Empty inside.
I’m everything that won’t combine.
A cup of french vanilla with no chai.
I’m incomplete with no wonder why...
He went on calling me an archer with no aim.
Still a fire but no flame.
A soul gone unclaimed.
My celestial being has been chained.
This man said this without ever knowing my name.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
I understand elongation is not equal to eternity.
I know that everything is temporary.
I just can’t help but recognize you as my evermore.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
La idioma de español
Sabe todos mis secretos
Todos el chismo
Pero que uno
Y anoche
En el calor de la cocina
Español aprendió mi más grande secreto
“Quieres el verdad?”
“No me gusta mujeres así”
Y Jesús dijo
“¿Porque? ¿Ellas son demasiado gordita?”
Nos Reímos
Y entonces
“No…no me gusta mujeres, Jesús”
Dije
“Soy gay”
Silencio
Nadie hablaban
Nadia se reía
Nadie cocinaba
“Pues…”
El dijo
“¿Tienes un novio?”
El tension en la cocina eliminaba al instante
Sonreí
Me reí
“No, Jesús, pero lo deseo uno”
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 10:11 PM UTC