A poetic cwtch

Helm through the effable_ineffables

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Too bad at goodbyes Image source - Pinterest

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The rage Image credits - pinterest

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Wilted blooms

Wilted blooms

Ironical as it sounds…

Image credits – Pinterest

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Masks over masks Image credits - Pinterest

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Being forgotten Image credits - Pinterest

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Forgiveness!

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Peace in the abyss!

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Back to June… (Image taken from Pinterest)

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The combat

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My demons!

The long lost memories

wanting to fade,

benighted by me.

Drenched in fibs

and fables.

Reaching out all night

the demons; wanting a fair fight.

And here I drown

like a weed

seeking for the

dandelions of the sea!

– © Jasna Usman

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And on that day...

And on that day…

Who else

would walk me down the aisle

if not you?

Find the bouquet I left

on our family crypt.

Wrap me in your arms,

let the zeal break free!

Kiss me and say,

“my beautiful daughter!”

Please don’t be the missing diner

Hold your place and

let’s say ‘Amen’ for today.

Afterall,

this misbegotten Mardi Gras wedding

is nothing more than a charade!

A poignant…

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Wall of fame

in the gall of shame

(existence)

— Jasna Usman

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The fugitive

Did you strung on my ukulele

from the ceaseless boulevard

to elope with high certitude

or to be on the run?

Allude me, my love

for your allure I fell.

Touche !

As sheer as your iris,

despair spurred into my spine.

Ye envy my depart

to the Auroras.

I condoned to my phantoms.

I even dream of meteor showers

in this room.

Reinforce me and my hull

for you could never cull my fugitive.

My fugitive on the run!

-- © Jasna Usman

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Being forgotten…

As dry as hay,

As cold as blue,

As the flow of thy ink,

As the leaves of autumn,

As your love for me,

Oh thee;

As I weep,

Being forgotten is yet another chapter,

for you to read.

-- © Jasna Usman

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REQUIEM FOR THE LIAISON

It wasn’t like any other dawn. The entire bayou could sense the aura of the three brothers. Nature was diabolical indeed to wash out the whole tribe but sparing the lives of these three? It isn’t ironical because there’s this insatiable hunger who is no good at mercy. Maybe Mother Nature spared them so that they could write a eulogy to the departed, or to serve the master of all- The Death.

  Paranoid and solitude took the elder brother to a limbo, where he could no longer hear his twin brothers’ cries nor the growls of their stomachs. He managed to build shelter with the ruins left by the maiden of death as storm was right above their head. The boy didn’t realize that three days have passed without food. With no animals to hunt, no berries to plunge, no fish to catch, his fifteen year old brain made him to decide to become ‘the Sinner and the Saint’ to save his brothers from the catch hold of hunger. He couldn’t find a levee to his phantoms. Hunger became the Liaison.

  The boy consoled his brothers and sang them a lullaby. When they fell asleep he came out of the shelter and started to search. He found a stone sharp enough to pierce his skin. Within a blink of second, he tore his cloth off from his thighs and started to tear off his skin. Besides all those agony and excruciating pain, he tore out his flesh and crawled back to the shelter. He washed the flesh in the storm water and broke the silence of the bayou by waking up his brothers. He managed to stop the bleeding by wrapping his wound by some worn outs from the ruins, though deep inside he knew he could never heal the wound that he is about to make on the two innocent souls. He asked them to eat the raw flesh. The boy felt victorious, he defeated hunger.

  Until the storm clears out and the first lichens show up, until the swamps and meadows gives a loop hole, his survival instinct was to raise his brothers as cannibals. And out of paranoia, the boy became ‘the Sinner and the Saint’ with the help of liaison who made him sold out his brothers’ soul to the guardian of hell- the devil.

  Amidst all these anguish, he realized that fourth dawn had passed, and the thought ‘life is full of toil, sacrifice and pain’ kept his sanity alive!

-- © Jasna Usman

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The labyrinth

First few pages read her funeral dirge

and the next few?

Yes she was born, and consecrated.

Indeed she survived, but did she live?

A question to all the racists; who

denied her right to speak

right to love and be loved

right to dream

right to be in a stage; conquering the 

applause and cheer.

Judgemental ! black or white?

Auditioned and amused by her voice

but brows frowned and murmured

‘oh black’

Bullied to mental death

Hallowed be her name!

Yet she succeeded

sailing past the levee

sailing through the labyrinth

and now, sailing amongst the Northern Stars!

-- © Jasna Usman