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Category: Poetry (Page 1 of 14)

Poetry by Moni Brar

Listen to “The Swell” and “21 Things My Illness is Not,” read by The Blanket Sea Team.

 

The Swell

my thoughts
+++gather and swell
as days slink, snake
+++one into the other

they bulge, take shape
+++like balloon animals
a quivering panda
+++a righteous lion

they dance
+++in a circus ring
in the middle
+++of my living room

chase each other in circles
+++with abandon
gain speed
+++eventually land

at my feet
+++deflated
while the treetops
+++framed by a window

drag my eyes upwards
+++to watch a smudged sunset,
a blue moon
+++my hands run

through a blanket
+++of memories
pluck the forgotten,
+++clutch the ripest

my body remembers
+++bare toes of childhood
sinking into the comfort of clover,
+++a face open to anything

 

21 Things My Illness is Not

a phase
+++a choice
++++++an inconvenience
a ruse
+++a hoax
++++++an expense
a curse
+++an excuse
++++++temporary
a blip
+++bad luck
++++++a defense
a stunt
+++an option
++++++an embarrassment
a shame
+++a pity
++++++a liability
drama
+++baggage
++++++just a figment of my imagination

 

 

Born in northern India, Moni Brar now lives on unsurrendered territories of the Treaty 7 region and Syilx Okanagan Nation.… Read more “Poetry by Moni Brar”

Poetry by Rise

Listen to Rise read “Xylem and Phloem Pray Every Summer” and “ISeenItSomewhereBefore.”

 

Xylem and Phloem Pray Every Summer

My body is not an apology
Sorry be an empty lot
My bloom devours its echo
Sorry, eager buzz
I, Venus flytrap
Sorry, frozen mud an water mixture
I, dandelion breeze
But I am still sick
Brimmed of wound, muscle, wanting
Rest and flesh and
Longing
Love, an anxious bud
I’ve allowed nails to press into this sacred
Left til they were done
Came back sometime the next morning
Dressed, rinsed, did not look in the mirror
A ritual
A Black girl right of passage
Do not look in the mirror
Do not find yourself
Do not know your scars intimately
Body be spoon;
Hold, curve, bend,
Do not be weapon

We’ve not been a team
She
There for me

Me, hating her
Always
In all ways
Me devouring
Me pushing
Me choosing and choosing and choosing
The wrong things
Always
In all ways
People
Food
Beds
Fabric
I starve them when I hurt
Istuff them when I hurt
And body,
Every day
Vessel of pirouetting trauma
Building of ricocheting bricks
Wakes,
Runs,
Remembers
Waits, for me still
Body wants to know if I have their back this time
Their chest
Their tears
Their hands to warm
Body will not apology itself grave again
Body resurrect
Body lay under a blanket an shake
Body wheeze up stairs
Body laugh from belly
Body sweat rivers between mounds
Body float back to back
Body, give me another chance
Crave and I’ll listen
Race and I’ll listen
Still yourself tree
Tell me when to move my love
Tell me when to leave
I’ll adventure myself seed, follow you wherever you go

 

ISeenItSomewhereBefore 

The revolution will also be from the couch
It will be under weeks old bed sheets
Lingering smells of fire cider and lysol
Some days the only change will be underwear and the sun and that will be enough
It will be nonlinear and neurodivergent
It will be light an heat an touch sensitive
It will also be full of light an heat an dark and touch an aches an screaming pain an laughter
And falling and not having to get up
And falling an being asked first before being helped up
The future will have laughter in every pocket
The future will have real pockets!

Read more “Poetry by Rise”

Poetry by Syble Heffernan

Listen to Syble Heffernan read “Night Terrors” and “Other Side of the Glass.”

 

Night Terrors

Ask me how I’m sleeping
I’ll need a canvas and black ink.

I’ll scrawl briars of shadow and
fists. This is what wakes me in

the night, knocking on the walls
of my skull;

entering me with no invitation;
writhing creatures

beehives for heads;
streams of nectar down their necks

deception.… Read more “Poetry by Syble Heffernan”

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