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Poetry || SubmissionsFive Poems by Yasmine al TawdyA thought Love, Give me a shove. Hate, Let’s not make it a date. Bigotry, Why don’t you hide under that tree. Beauty, I wonder about your duty. Sadness, Hide there in the darkness. Mother, Why on earth bother. Dad, Will you ever be glad? People, Are we equal? Boys, Do you see us as toys? Girls, Are you all needing pearls? Men, Why are you hiding in a den? Women, Why don’t you listen? Knowledge, is not only through college Pain, Why is it me again? Heart, Let him depart. Friends, Why the pretence? Sorrow, Is what i don’t want to borrow. Poverty, Why don’t you disperse equally? Wealth, How do you rate without health? Destiny, Just let me be. Fate, You are my only mate The ladybird story Once upon a time There was a ladybird Part lady But mostly bird She used to transform herself according to her habitat A lady on ground And a bird in the sky Except She couldn’t really fly And so she built her own cage From which she can look at the view outside without being seen And from which she can fly But only in her own make-believe sky And because she’s mostly a bird in the sky You will only sense her fly And always see her cry As a lady on the ground Where she is always bound By this or that To wear a Yashmick*, veil or hat Even to dress like a bat Hiding beneath a flap What is considered a trap Because of its beauty That speaks of its duty And that is why the bird’s in the make-believe sky Where he is happy to fly Whilst the lady’s on the ground Where she’s unhappy to be bound But, do you see how each one’s in a cage? Is that it? Are you done? Will you simply turn over the page? * A Yashmic is traditionally a Face Veil that only leaves the eyes uncovered, and we adopted it from the Turks, during the Ottoman Mameluke Times. A nightmare of his Stony eyes Are the windows of her soul Through the iron gates of her mouth Lies her captive tongue Inside her head Is pencil lead Into her heart you swim To find the light so dim And the beat ever so slim Into the depth of her soul You may attempt to venture a journey But be prepared never to hit the shore For she is a wondering island That will never hit land, belong to any country, race or religion But she follows her own intuition That tells her what is right And who is wrong When to pull out And onto whom to hold on strong Watch out for her sight That lights the way The way of her sense And till daybreak She’ll still be tending to her heartache And you’ll forever be haunted by the sound of her tears falling to the ground. Untitled Grand tiles of broken mosaics, That’s what makes up our lives. Little tiny efforts they call heroics, But are only in the end, little white lies. Understood backwards, Although you can only but live forwards, Nevermind the parts in the middle, Those juicy, puzzling parts that spice up the riddle. Don’t you ever wonder how you always find yourself in the midst of a puddle? Yearning for even the slightest hint of a tender, loving cuddle? Yet, dawn breaks, And the sun wakes, And although your heart aches, And you live in a world full of flakes, With those who try to sell you the disgusting harsh reality as sweet-tasting cakes, Right beside those foul-smelling, polluted lakes. How wonderful it would be if as easily as we throw in our garbage, we could just dump in our mistakes, Which are, in the end, little white lies, Also known as, heroics, Which is what basically makes up our lives, And makes up those grand tiles of broken mosaics. Mood Food It used to be I’d be in a mood, So, I’d go for the food. Now I go for the food, To get into a mood. Throb…throb…throb… That’s just about it, When I am in a mood, As a result of food. Oblivious to all else, Lost in my own high, Can’t move, speak, or hear. Wait, the bathroom’s near! Hold it! Hold it! Okay, the coast is clear, Now, take a deep breath… Pull your stomach in, and… Listen to the voice of pain, Through which you couldn’t complain. Yasmine al Tawdy is a 27 year old graduate of the American University in Cairo, Egypt, with a degree in Psychology. She says that "as a "Western" Woman in an "Oriental" country, I deal with struggling to fit in the country and understanding the people, as a feminist, humanist, enviromentalist, and animal lover.THat can be very difficult in a developing country but I look at the occurences as challenges, which inspire most of my writing." Her favorite writer, she says, is William Blake. You can write to Yasmine Al Tawdy Today's Situation
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