REVERSE (video) POEM

Do You Think I'm Fat?

Insecurities suck! I wish I could tell every breathing soul that they are beautiful because every person truly is beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

Do you think I'm fat?

I asked 

Not anticipating an answer

Rubbing thighs 

A dangling tummy

Is all I see

And disappointment is all I could read 

Across her weary face 

She stared back 

You're beautiful

She lied with no shame

Beauty?

I can't see it in you 

It's there, but you don't want to see it

Once again, she lied

How could a one-syllable-word hold such power anyways?

The moment it was used in reference to you

She disappeared with silence 

Leaving no residue in the mirror 

Standing before me.

Sleepless Night

The black ceiling hovers over me
My eyes refuse closure
I stare at the clock
What time is it there?
Empty space is all I see
Miles and miles away
I wait for the morning light
It's seven hours away Ticking and tocking shamelessly
The clock lies
It reads11:11 PM
Make a wish You have a flight to catch tomorrow 

Dear Creative Writing classmates,


You were fabulous and professional slam poets today.
Your words were so powerful that I got goosebumps!
I'm so proud of us all!!! :)


Have a wonderful Spring Break,


Maisaloon Al-Ashkar

Essential To Life, My Best Friend's Brain That Is

I was recently challenged to use water as an extended metaphor in a poem about my best friends brain. Since this poem was technically due today, I thought I would post it on my blog instead to receive feedback from my peers this way. I would love to read and give feedback to you on your poems, so I encourage all my creative writing peers to post their "my best friend's brain" poems.

(Let me know if you find out who my "best friend" is!) :)

Essential to life

My best friend’s brain that is

To me, it’s as transparent as could be

It leaks wisdom

That drenches the thirsty concrete of my home

With unconditional attention   

It’s filled with comforting words that rush

Swiftly down her flickering mouth

Splashing my frown with a drop of hope 

It overflows with sympathy

As she outspreads her hands to offer a

Refreshing embrace

It’s enrobed with laughter

As her lips crease aloft

Washing away my gloom

Pouring tiny dribs of clarity

Down the dry lanes

Of my polluted domain  

It’s not a commodity that can be

Trapped in a vain bottle

It’s a human right

For all the young and old

For every animal and plant

It’s a prudent resource

That nourishes

But is never nourished back –

Essential to life

My best friend’s brain that is

To me, it’s as transparent as could be.

This is one of the first videos that introduced me to spoken word poetry!

List Poem

White

Tiny droplets of hail 

Join their fellow flakes

Alighting on the

Powdered surface

Creating a flawless 

Bed of snow

Tempting the playful

Children to lay against

The pearly land

And craft spotless

Snow Angels

As their arms and legs

Swipe the hue-less 

Floor of snow 

Repeatedly

Until their rain coats

Camouflage with

The pristine ground

As if it was a blank

Canvas formed

Only of

White pigments

Haiku

Unforgettable 


When I gaze at you

     The world won't stop revolving

            Lights begin to dim.

My eyes are running 

      My hands glide across your skin

           Gradual slipping.

Tired, is all I see

     Thinking will not ease the pain

           Only makes it worse.

Thoughts refuse escape

      A wild instant caught in time

           Now, forever stuck. 

Experimenting with Sound and Imagery

The Land of Silence

As I entered the land of silence on this sunny afternoon, I fell into curiosity.

 I see grand trees and brown, green, yellow, orange and red leafs that October left behind.

I feel the cool breeze swift through my hair,

I hear birds twittering, the beautiful soothing creek running as it nourishes this land, and I hear my thoughts wondering,

I inhale fresh air and smell soft, pleasant grass,

Until my paranoia of bugs decided to kill this insightful split second.

 The thought of all the bothersome little creepy-crawlies running wild around me

makes the hairs on my neck stand up.

A sprint of quivers dashed through my body; from head to toe.

 I wish my mom was here with her comforting hands, ready to stroke my hair and say, “Its okay! They are just bugs. How could you be scared of such little creatures?”

I remember the trillion times she has said that to me, and again, I wish she was here to say it a trillion and one times.

 It is funny how everyone around me is quiet; I haven’t seen them this hushed for a long time.

Sometimes I forget what silence feels like. I can’t recall the last time I attained inner peace, or spoke without words.

Life is always busy, never gives me a prospect to echo back and feel alive.

But this moment; this reflective pause to life is all I need right now.

 I have two paths lying before me; right or left?

My essence can’t decide which trail to follow, yet the man in front of me, let’s call him ‘guider’, motioned to the left with a smile. And so we begin this journey…

 We walked slowly, and as I gaze around me, we stop or a moment of reflection...

Now, I can see everything clearly.

 Behind me lies a big hill, rocky with broken branches all around; branches that last night’s wind must’ve left. Before me stands a strong prideful tree. It’s been through a beautiful childhood,

 Interesting teenage years, and now it is old and wise; knows the hardship and beauty of life. It is smiling, at me! It’s telling me about how rough the past two stormy weeks have been, but it’s finally sunny again. I agree, and smile back.

 Our guider escorted us down to a rocky path. The fear of sliding on this wet slope just hit me. I’m struggling to walk down, and suddenly I reminisce about the numerous times I fell in the, and scratched my ankle, after all, I am clumsy! I slowly slid down the hill, and managed to land safely.

As my eyes pondered, the thought of God and his miracles flew across my mind. I looked out at this beautiful scenery, and I was thankful, and happy to be me; glad to be here.

 We reach our last stop. I stand on a podium, where I can see the stage in front of me. Afore me lays the future; beautiful mother earth, and behind me lays the past; the broken branches and torn trees.

I feel like a queen, a queen indeed.

Our guider turned around with a smile from ear to ear, and pointed back, and so we begin our journey back; back where it all started….

 At this summit, I look around me, I see clueless faces and I see engaged faces. But there is one face that stands out the most; the guider’s facial expressions. He had a smile on his face throughout this entire expedition, and at this moment; in the middle of the woods, his smile grew wider and wider, and his eyes were glowing like a youngster.  

As they say the eyes are the windows to the soul, they are indeed.

 Abruptly, people’s hands are telling me to move, I stand still in astonishment, and then I see a finger pointing downwards. I look at my feet, and I realize that I’m standing on a dead rat, with all of his insides gushed out. I swiftly jump out of my skin, and feel sick to my stomach. What a great way to end my journey, huh?!

 We walked back; a walk that motioned circularly. As I’m stepping out of gate of the land of silence, a quote came to mind: 

~ I wish you a very good journey to an unknown you've never seen. ~

This journey in the land of silence is much like life; I started out curious because I didn’t know what the future holds for me.

 And like our guider, there will always be someone steering me to the right path, but after that, I have to decide my own destination; a destination that will be fulfilled with disclosure along the way. 

 For a second, the entire journey flashed before my eyes.

I’m gradually grasping that I’m officially back in the real world; the land of noise and uproar.

 In the real journey, silence is no longer an option.

To Be, or Not to Be, That is the Question

Life is an enduring battle; you rise above the rocks

you stumble upon, or they will defeat you.  

I happen to jig over all the rocks that boogie my way.

these rocks dash before my eyes and knock me day by day,

they boom, bam flying far and wide, then land banging on my head,

as they fly across, their stench astoundingly gruesome stench plugs my space,      

the thud is a total ache in my neck,

and their bitterness blemishes the tip of my sweet lips.

The rocks’ taste as dreadful as their filthy reek, stinking up my snout:

 that’s when Michael Jackson’s “Leave Me Alone” starts echoing in my head.

Actually, rocks don’t smell awfully bad.

I would like to think that the music of tomorrow will be as good as the music of yesterday

because know a day’s all the jams I ever seem to hear on the radio are “Shawty,” “Baby,” and “Yo, Crank Dat Soljua’ Boy.”

But since our generation is dim-witted, meaningful music ought to crumple.

At least we evolved from Shakespeare’s to be, or not to be, that is the question.   

The baffling language of Shakespeare puzzles me at all times.

It’s as bizarre as normal.

The ‘thrill ride’ of Shakespeare’s literacy,

led to Miso’s explosion into dull little pieces.

However, those little torn pieces will possibly meet again,

 once I appreciate beyond doubt the unsubtle secrets surrounded by the words of this complex writer.  

I’ll have to look within myself to value Shakespeare’s masterwork of prose.

Although reality slaps you across the face

Although rocks stand in the way of your contentment,

although conflict captures all the luminosity from your firework

as you carry on day after day. 

I AM

I am an unwavering and optimistic psyche

I wonder where my intellectuality will navigate me in my verve

I hear the ceaseless mirth of sanguinity humming in a soundless cleft

I see the delightful shadow of my knowledge mimicking me in obscurity

I want to leave behind an everlasting bequest after my demise

I am an unwavering and optimistic psyche

I pretend to know the solution to every problem, and the problem to every solution

I feel the burden of the pessimistic human race rupturing my empathy

I touch the twine of blissful luminosity in each dull essence

I worry that someday my unwavering and optimistic soul will disappear, and no longer will I be able to obtain the weight of the world on my shoulders

I cry when I find no meaning to my presence

I am an unwavering and optimistic psyche

I understand that those who pursue the trace of my footprints, those who’s beam burnishes afore me, and those volatile pyrotechnics within me have expectations soaring far above the ground

I say God is the beacon of light that will lead me to places that will surpass my broad imagination

I dream of having the power to heal inhabitants’ unidentified wounds

I try to maintain the radiance of anticipation sparkling within me

I hope that I will use all the aptitude that God have gifted me with to the best of my abilities

I am the unwavering and optimistic psyche

An Enduring Crack…

An enormous hole will reside an extensive verve,

Befall cavernous through the passing of ageless time,

Fulfill the vacant legroom with infinitive resonances,

Trepid the completeness and mounts life has to offer,

Suck the breathes out of the misfortunate existence that surpass its malevolence way,

Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter how massive it may be as it has no essence nor a core to feel with; it’s vacant of passion.     

Nothing compares to voiceless twilights unaided,

Acquiring an insensible reality,

Exhaling air with the lack of aspiration to inhale once more,

Knowing that not a soul would catch you if you fall,

Having a fissure deepening each trice in your spirit,

once compassion is injured, there is no medicine in the universe capable of  mending it,

It’s wounded; wounded eternally;

                                                      It’s loneliness. 

MAking It Strange

Deafening Hours of Darkness

Siesta given that it is

Strident silence,

Shrilling in its tranquillest harmony,

Thunderous unbounded peace,

Earsplitting sentiments of an everlasting serenity,

Piercing motionless noise of the hours of darkness,

Boldest silhouette of crawling echoes

Arouse;

                                              Silent strident,

Hushed in its anxious discord,

Quiet restricted uproar,

Calm numbness of an ephemeral bustle,

Dull vigorous stillness of the cock-crow,

Pusillanimous amorphous of speeding bursting voices

Personal Narrative

Places and Traces

  I am from a bright future that is guided by 

  the compassionate hands of God

From being the captain of my own destiny, 

and envisioning a long road of opportunities, knowledge, and experiences

From an honorable way of life led by traditional ethics and religious morals

I am from an Islamic faith generated by affection, harmony, 

and respect for one and all

I am from marching through the various obstacles of life with a head

aiming towards the sky

Boundless, extensive days dedicated to textbooks, homework, and studying

from dusk to daylight

Aspires of reaching the highest of places with the urge to discover the

deepest insights of life

  Cherished moments devoted to nourishing my desire of lending a sympathetic 

  hand to humanity

  I am from feeling the burden of a pessimistic human race rupturing my empathy

I am from the thunderous patriotic roars of a 

deprived nation

I am from a heritage that lies on a holy land 

that is occupied by the mercilessness of loathe

From ancestors who come from an extensively controversial history  

 From a divine motherland I wish to see someday  

I am from a beautiful disaster called Palestine

I am from the dream of having the power to heal inhabitants’ unidentified wounds

From worrying that someday my steady and hopeful presence will no longer be able to

obtain the weight of the world on my shoulders

From knowing the solution to every problem,

and the problem to every solution

From crying when finding no meaning to my presence

  I am from the influential embrace of the patient hands that created me 

  from everlasting love

From bothersome older brothers who refer to me as

“daddy’s and mommy’s little girl”

From bringing pride to the two souls that have nurtured

me throughout my existence

I am from an optimistic and unwavering smile that considers the 

prosperous expeditions to come

I am from the determined echoes of an assertive young woman

that can never be defined

From the laughter of a blissful twine of luminosity in each dull essence  

From departing the world with a ceaseless legacy engraved 

on the sands of time

Leaving behind an everlasting bequest after my passing

This is where I am from

The Dictionary’s Thoughts on Love

Love

What is love?

Love is an overly overused word

That has been overused even before 900 B.C

It’s in mainstream songs that bust through the radio

It is all over the corny TV shows

And it is constantly uttered through the naïve lips of hopeless teenagers

Heck, it’s even in English class while studying the romantic,

 which I would like to call cheesy,

“Romeo and Juliet”

So seriously, what is love?!

According to “Dictionary.com”, love is defined as the following:

“1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

3. sexual passion or desire.

4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.”

It even provides synonyms:

“Tenderness, fondness, predilection, warmth, passion, adoration, affection, devotion.”

And of course, we can’t forget about the Antonyms:

“Hatred, dislike, detest, hate. “

So if thou yearn to ask me

“what is love?”

All I can say to thee is …

“Whatcha’ askin’ me for! Go look it up in the dictionary!”

Photo Response

A Portrait Never To Be Forgotten

The crisp air soars

Around

The perky sun mounts

Above

On this chilly summer‘s day

My eyes

Roam

My thoughts

Ponder

The freezing wind whips across my

Probing face

Cold whispers blow into the insides of

My static ears

“Look over there!”

Heaps of proud pine trees

Stand on the bleached summit

In the center

The limbs of the terrain reach for

The peak

                               Nature crafts before my awed gaze

الله

Allah!

Is carved by the remains of washed glaciers

My eyes

  Roam

My thoughts

Ponder

At a miracle engraved in my memory

A portrait never to be forgotten