My Manic and I

Please tell the moon it’s over.
We have loved one another for a quarter of a century
so I know she will understand me when I say:
I’m tired and I’m giving up.
Tell her I’m through.
I’ve become too fascinated with darkness to let her light rule me.

Tell the moon I’m sorry.
April was a graveyard that buried me.
And I am not as dead as I would like and
I am barely who I was when I was above ground,

and moon, beautiful moon,
you keep whispering the sweetest things into my ear,
and I hear you,
and I appreciate you,

and I don’t mean this the wrong way.
I don’t mean to hurt you,
but I let the gloom take over me.

Tell the moon it’s all my fault.
I let things slip away from me.
I had an affair with the absence of light
in our bed,
an April ago,

and it has made a home out of my infidelity.
And I didn’t want to hurt her this way,
And I didn’t want to hurt you this way, moon,
but I kept seeing his face every time you looked down on me.

 

*Disclaimer: This poem is named after Laura Marling’s song, “My Manic and I”.

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Update: My poetry finally has a Youtube Channel!

Darling Readers,

I’m pleased to announce that I finally have a Youtube channel! After 2 years of performing my poetry on stage, I’ve decided it was time to post these performances publicly.

This was a big decision to make, but I’m feeling very optimistic about it. I’ve uploaded 3 videos thus far, but I’m hoping I’ll have more during the upcoming months.

Please feel free to watch the videos, comment, share, and subscribe to my channel!

Here’s a peak:

Summers At Home

Nothing grows here in the summer.
The trees, once tall and proud now
droop over sideways, sunburnt and
dizzy with delirium. The birds have
forgotten how to sing; too tired to
tweet their favorite symphonies.

Nothing grows here in the summer.
Even the buildings shrink with the
heat, for once despising their near-
ness to the sky. They don’t look
up to pray anymore: their heads
hanging down avoiding god.

Nothing grows here in the summer.
The grass has learnt that and every
year shrivels in anticipation. And
the flowers: they hang themselves
from their branches – would rather
take matters into their own hands.

Nothing grows here. Mostly in the
summer, but oftentimes the whole
year through. The stench of still-
ness fills the air and drowns our
lungs in stagnation. We have all
gotten used to it. Ask anyone.

Nothing grows here in the summer.
My spine, once tall and proud now
droops downwards. My body shrinks
with the heat. My lungs are filled with
waiting for a better day, but my
head hangs loose from my shoulders-

I’ve gotten used to it. Oftentimes
it lasts the whole year through.
Nothing grows here – the law
strictly forbids it – no matter
our efforts. Now we’ve put our
gardening tools away, and our

bird-houses, and we are no longer
fascinated with tall buildings or
pretty flowers. Nothing grows here,
we’ve learned. So even our dreams
we’ve learned to nip quietly in the bud
before anyone sees them.

“… gestures I should not love, but love.”

Ask me to leap into gasoline and
call me a spark. Call me a flame.
I swear, I am searching for reasons
to drop to the floor and roll myself
dull but you’ve placed in me a chill
so that I am constantly yearning to
get burned to a crisp. This is me now.
I am greedy and hollow. I am restless
and unsatisfied. I am forest of
desires longing to be an eternal inferno.
I need scorching heat to beat this
melancholia. I need blackened gases
to travel thoroughly through my lungs
and choke me to highs no cool can gift.
I am a masochist at her peak. I am a
user in desperate need of a hit. I know
the crash is around the corner. I
know it’s inescapable. I am aware that
my limbs, once fallen, will not rise
like the wings of a phoenix. I am
already without glory or grace; I
am not destined to fill skies with
endless beauty. At my best, everything
I am is romanticized damage. I am the
product of flirting with fire. I
am burnt out – mere grey ash lying
lifeless here before yourself,
but listen to me please; I think I
might love you, even though I know
that this is irrelevant now. I love
you, and I know that doesn’t change
a thing. I love you, and the only
reason this I love you is special is
because it’s the first time I’ve had
the courage to put these three words
down in a poem.

I know; it’s always been the words I
don’t say that can move mountains.

 

*Disclaimer: The title of this poem is a line from Henrietta Goodman’s poem “Descent”.

Blessed

There are times when I stop and think about my approach towards life and I’m saddened by my inexcusable ignorance. I’m reminded of all the times I’ve dwelled on my past mistakes; the valuable time I’ve wasted drowning in regret over things that were clearly unchangeable. Precious, non-refundable moments I’ve thrown away pining for the unattainable and imaginary. It takes a tiny second for me to realize how ungrateful I’ve been for not appreciating the blessings I’ve had by my side all along. In a moment of immense appreciation, I am duly obliged to point out the things I am most thankful for at this time of my life.

I’m blessed to have an amazing family.

My father; whose genuine smile can light up a whole room. Whose kind heart and rare moments of vulnerability have sparked in me a love so endless and infinite for this man who gives his all and only asks for appreciation in return. A man with pride and dignity; the strongest man I’ve ever come to know. My father’s fighting spirit will forever motivate me to be a better person and not be let down by any life-changing catastrophe that comes my way.

My mother; whose challenging personality I’ve only just learnt to love. Granted, my bad experiences with her greatly outnumber my good ones, but it is only in these recent months have I realized the faith she holds in me. I might still be slightly intimidated by her sneaky ways and dishonesty, but I am still glad that she understands me in some ways that most mothers would not. I will forever be thankful for the writing genes I’ve inherited from her and – more importantly – her endless support and faith in my talents and skills.

My sisters; whose mere existence makes my life a million times better. I don’t know where I’d be without these amazing human beings. Having such supportive, understanding, caring, kind-hearted, shoulder-lending sisters is the reason I am the person I am today. I’m thankful for every second I spend with them, and I know that I am more than lucky to have them in my life. If I was asked right now what I was most thankful for in my life; I’d have to go with them. They’re irreplaceable and breathtaking women, and I know for a fact that not everyone can say they’re blessed with such understanding siblings. We might fight and argue on occasion, but in the end there’s no one in the world I’d trade them for. I’m blessed to have sisters I can speak to about anything and everything that’s bothering me without being judged or looked down upon for it. I appreciate your sisterhood with all my heart.

My brothers; whose continuous light-hearted banter never ceases to make me smile on the inside and out. Whose kindness and understanding surprises me every single time, and whose jokes never cease to make my days. I appreciate all you’ve done for me – all the shit you’ve had to go through at my expense. I’m thankful for your discretion and persistence at handling my personal affairs, I’m thankful for days you’ve helped chase my monsters away. I’m thankful for the days I had to play your mother, little one, and I’m even more thankful for the days you called me that. I’m thankful for the joy you bring me by just smiling or making that silly face you always make. I’m blessed to have such amazing men in my life to prove to me that good men do exist.

I’m blessed to have such amazing friends.

You’ve been with me through my many ups and downs and happiness and heartbreaks. You’ve seen me through my good days and bad, through my endless smiles, frowns, laughs and tears. I could never have asked for friends more loving and caring than you, friends who for some reason haven’t yet run the other way. I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes, I get angry at the silliest things and I pull away when something is wrong and never care to speak about it, and the fact that you’re still by my side only proves to me that your friendship is worth more than I can imagine. I’m blessed to have your everlasting support and backing in all the silly decisions I keep making and all the irrational paths I keep taking. Your presence makes all the difference in my life. I’m blessed to call you my friends.

For the sake of not blowing this out of proportion, I will stop here. Maybe I’ll continue this list on another day when I’m feeling thankful again.

P.S. Everything I’ve said here has come straight from my heart. If you are in either of these categories, I love you endlessly.

© Copyright 7ala Abdullah

Thank You.

I’ve always felt this way but I guess it’s time to get it all out and verbalize it.

I love you. Yes, you, the one reading this post right now. Without you, I would have stopped writing a long time ago. You keep me motivated. Your comments and input mean the world to me.

You guys are amazing for sticking with me through my ups and downs, my sad poems and my happy poems, my tear-jerking stories and my thought-provoking ones. You’re amazing for believing in me. You’re amazing for showing your interest. You’re amazing for asking me not to give up every time I feel it’s time to. You’re amazing for taking the time to read my bullshit. You’re amazing for noticing when I haven’t written for a while. You’re amazing for recognizing which of my pieces are fiction and which aren’t. You’re amazing for calling yourselves my fans. You’re amazing for being my fans. You guys make me smile. Each and every one of you.

What I’m trying to say is; thank you for being who you are. If it weren’t for you, there would be no Soaked In Words.

And if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be where I am right now.

I love you all and I appreciate your efforts to help me improve and I appreciate your existence from the bottom of my heart .

Thank you so very much for being your amazing selves.

Hello/ Hola/ Hala Walla/ Ciao/ Salut/ Hej/ Halo/ Ahoj, etc..

You know when you wake up in the morning with a thought in your head that won’t go away? This is how this blog happened.

I woke up today with just one lingering, persistent though. “Make a fucking blog”. Why? I have no idea. I’ve always been, in a way, anti-blogging. And here I am, hypocritical as I am, with my own blog. Damn, this is the same thing that happened with Facebook. I don’t know what’s going on in my tiny little brain these days.

I think it’s got something to do with my month-old writer’s block. Maybe this is my mind’s way of getting me back on track? I do hope it works.

Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this blog of mine. I will be posting my writings shortly, and I do hope to get some feedback from all of you.

Peace out.