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Latest Posts by r-u-maysa

r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: GOATSONG / I will survive the wrong / I've done. All the love / that didn't serve me. / My youth used up / worshiping mercurial / myopics. I've cried a lot / very briefly. This sorrow has helped / make my career. Yes, / I'm a difficult person / to endure, I hardly manage. / Oh hum, the rest of my life / keeps coming. It feels just / like I knew it would.]

Goatsong, Leila Chatti

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: The breach, the rupture, / the picture of it—there are things we shouldn't / have to see. Why would anyone want to see the / inside of anything? I think about my brain. The / metaphor of it. I think about my heart. The / metaphor of it. I think about looking at the / earth from space. No monkey was ever supposed / to see that. Nauseating.]

Heat Map, Richard Siken

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

Mary Oliver, from "Starlings in Winter"

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: So there went my own heart walking towards its own / death, every millennium, every hour closer. I could not / bear this.]

Wrong Norma, Anne Carson

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: i'm just fleshing you out praying / you don't see a problem in me]

Adam, Gboyega Odubanjo

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: I do not / realize I am hurt until I am / real hurt or I do not / at all realize a day or days / later I see my useless hands & / & wonder what has happened how / did that happen]

Seaglass Picnic, Frances Driscoll

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: Love, / Isn't it just awful, love, that love / doesn't do anything. Doesn't help. / Can't cure. Can't cease sorrow, suffering. / Why is love so utterly useless. Why was / love ever invented when it can't do / anything, anything at all.]

Seaglass Picnic, Frances Driscoll

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: And we were made to make / our own graves, and those of the ones / who mean it all to us. And we had done monstrous, / shameful things to survive.]

Unravel, Tolu Oloruntoba

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: I am love's reckless student. I / take copious notes.]

Saints of Little Faith, Megan Pinto

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: I think I know loneliness but then / I feel it again—sharp like a knife]

Saints of Little Faith, Megan Pinto

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: We'd die for love / If you could these days]

The Rose, Ariana Reines

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r-u-maysa

1 week ago

[ID: Our hearts / are horses lost at pasture. Our hearts are barely / in the building. What is a heart anyway / but a flickering animal]

Swiping Right in Myrtle Beach, Erin Slaughter

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r-u-maysa

2 weeks ago

Fariha Róisín, How to Cure a Ghost

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r-u-maysa

2 weeks ago

Emily Dickinson, from her poem titled "1188," featured in The Emergency Poet

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r-u-maysa

2 weeks ago

“Shame thrives in silence, and wants more of it. The language of shame is silence. I wanted to incorporate silence, and silencing, into a poem, and was able to approximate that by blacking out language. What is unsaid becomes a visible absence—the hole I was writing around.”

— Leila Chatti, from an interview with Sneha Subramanian Kanta in Parentheses Journal, Issue 10 (via skgroutpoetry)

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r-u-maysa

3 weeks ago

ask polly

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r-u-maysa

3 weeks ago

Kaveh Akbar, from “ Pilgrim Bell”, Pilgrim Bell

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r-u-maysa

3 weeks ago

Kaveh Akbar, from "Despite My Efforts Even My Prayers Have Turned into Threats", Pilgrim Bell

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r-u-maysa

4 weeks ago

self portrait against bed wallpaper by Richard Siken

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r-u-maysa

4 weeks ago

ELLEN BASS

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r-u-maysa

4 weeks ago

“APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding / Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing / Memory and desire, stirring / Dull roots with spring rain.”

— T. S. Eliot, from “The Wasteland,” in Selected Poems

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

from Bhanu Kapil’s The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

Joy Sullivan, from "Long Division", Instructions for Traveling West

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

the peonies are getting ready to break my heart

Mary Oliver, from "Peonies"

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

isn't it beautiful that in Islam the focus is on the intentions because when your actions get misunderstood by people Allah will reward you for your intentions.

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

You are forever one decision away from an entirely different life.

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

My life is so normal & Dope besides from the occasional falls from Grace

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

We give each other a year to find
reasons to live, but it’s not even day
one and I have a handful, more than
enough for the both of us: last night
the train heavy on its tracks yowled
in such a discordant way you would’ve
laughed your ass off, this marvel of man-
made machinery, its tons of machismo,
honking most undignified. Who will notice
if we’re gone? How about this: my money
plant actually withers when my bank
account nears $0. Coincidence? I think
not. What about all the dogs we could
rescue and the ones we can’t if we’re
not here? Think of the sweet mutts
who took a shovel to the head and still
survived. Who will love them like you
will love them? And you haven’t
seen the curiosity of hens, how they
bawk and preen and peck and bully,
the small miracle that is an egg every
morning, still warm. Today the nesting
box latch broke and the hens got loose.
There’s nothing like the bliss of a silly bird
who thinks she’s outfoxed her keeper,
puffed there on the maple stump, grooming
her wings, her triumphant saddles. The birds
escape more than I care to admit,
and one day I’m sure I’ll find them gone,
like when Dorothea flew over my head
and out into the street and I ran like
I hadn’t since middle school gym class,
my lungs barely burning for the adrenaline,
me yelling after this chicken in front
of God and my neighbors in a city
that hasn’t even roused yet, me versus
the hen who can’t be reasoned with:
But the stray cats will eat you! The hawks
will too! You’re everyone’s food! Sarah,
maybe we should be like the hen who
thought I might eat her but was tired
from the chase and scared of what’s
next, who chose instead to trust
the arms around her would carry
her back home, who laid her head
on my wrist, whose heartbeat begged
my hand for mercy. Have mercy on me,
I don’t want to live in a world without you.

the sarah poems by Ruth Awad

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r-u-maysa

1 month ago

— fatima aamer bilal; coffin heart? bury me.

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