…If you didn’t love me
I’d still love you
Still watch you cross the sands of eternal deserts just
to ponder your walk
Still play the sea’s waves so I can better feel the vibrations
in your voice when you talk
I’d pick up a fiddle and teach the devil
how to play the blues
…if you didn’t love me
Even if your salacious kiss lost its solace
I’d reach out for your warm embrace
And love you
…but why wouldn’t you love me?
I hadn’t asked her much,
just how she felt,
and she told me all about her day,
and how she’d washed the sheets,
and how she could not understand
why the towel got so heavy
when it was wet.
She’d also sunned the mattresses,
such tired bones and so much to do,
and my eyes filled with tears
when I thought of how I was simply
going to say “Salaam” (peace) and walk away
and so many words would have been
trapped inside her.
I would have passed by as if
what lay between those bedclothes
was just old life
and not really my grandmother.
–by Sameeneh Shirazie
This amazing video pulls at your heartstrings and captivates your eye while beautiful words written by podcast legend Fitz Cahall are read by a child.
Spoken word poetry dedicated to the mothers out there, in honor of mother’s day!
Maybe on graduation day
I’ll sit there
with my last moments as a student
comforting the soul in my lap
Courage will kick up in my chest
and I’ll wave good-bye to this place,
The known.
I might baby step
Or barrel roll
Or nonchalantly tip my cap
to all you have made me
then stroll into the future’s night
With all the cares in the world
chalk up the deuces
and bid farewell
as I smile at my useless euphemisms
attempting not to cry
tears of apprehension
sadness
or joy
I’ve sipped joe with the Josies
and learned from the best
For all I am grateful
Now…onto face the rest.
Why would he do that to me
knowing I’m out on parole
Yeah the white boy
Stealing ice cream that I offered to buy
Idiot
I’m going to have to kill him in group tomorrow.
Mother how could I not care for you?
when my pamper was soiled
my nose had a sniffle
or there was a rasp in my voice you took care of me.
Mother how could I be rude to you?
when in my most vulnerable state
9 months you allowed me to grow through you.
Mother how could I not fight for you?
when push came to shove
you showed me love
and went to bat for me.
Mother I would lay down my life for you.
Mother how could I not make room for you?
if you wanted to live in the sky
I’d take the sun
remove the stars and the moon for you.
Mother how could I not show you compassion?
when it came to your love
it was not only shown through words
but in action.
Mother how could I ever be a fool?
when twice a day you drove
from south philly to germantown
just to get me to school
along with my lil brother too.
Mother how could my love for you be conditional?
when you made sure I had all I needed and more
cook, cleaned and ironed
til yah hands, back and neck were sore.
and still I beckoned for more?
Mother how could I not apologize for my trasgressions?
when as a child, you never spared me the rod
and taught me all my lessons.
Mother it was YOU who taught me to be a man
and though i have grown
in dark times I still search for your hand
for your guidance.
So Mother how could I not be loyal?
when your love for me
is like water to heat
thus it boils.
Mother how could I not hold you in memory?
when seeing you smile brings me the greatest joy
YOU are everything good in me.
Mother these words amount to nothing
compared to the gifts you have given me.
You will ALWAYS be the QUEEN of my HEART.
Lose love for you?
Mother How Could I?
–by (k)onscience
Dedicated to a daughter who didn’t get to know her birth mother.
Forces of Zeus and Hera couldn’t stop this tragedy
She felt the stars
Exhilaration of fast cars
excitements of a plane crash, stereo blast
she hung her hair down
her drink up
always looking for her next cup
9 months with me must have caused withdraws
Now she lay passed out on the floor
The angry, the mad in me hadn’t even begun to subside
When the bottle hit her lips
The one I tried to hide
Here she’ll lay, still cold
and the day grows old
weary of staring at the figure on the tile
Gatorade made to fuel her adrenaline
has become her death regimen
as it stained the floor under her dead hands
her blood was thicker than water
thinner than her liquor
Will my will be strong enough to not consider following in her footsteps
My heart is racing, quick reps
I can’t stop the beating
my morals are eating my mind away
insanity
My mom was foolish, it will never happen to me
no hospitals hangovers headaches institutions
My life won’t be ruined by this dream
Retreat from the reality that surrounds me
My mom is dead and it haunts me
As Banquo is to Macbeth, she taunts me
Laying on the floor, sitting in his chair
He’s there, she’s there
Can’t you see can’t you see
it’s all on me it’s all on me
it’s my fault im wrong
I should turn and walk away from her addictive Gatorade
But it will take away the pain
Though it takes me to a place
strange aesthetic plane
I’m in a sliver between Earth and space, closer to her heaven
Did i commit a deadly seven?
Maybe two or three because I envy her gluttony towards the bottle
Every swallow I take from the first sip leaves me hollow
On the tile here i lie
my flower withered and died
The world looks so tall and i feel so small
from this angle on the floor
is this what she saw before her guilty spirit soared, convicted
I her soul’s witness
lived the life i testified against
criticized it, realize that
I’m the victim, victimized by her lies
Why didn’t she rise and get up at the very least
All I want is peace
The sound of her hitting the ground to cease.
The Prison Cell
It is possible especially now
To ride a horse
Inside a prison cell
And run away…
It is possible for prison walls
To disappear,
For the cell to become a distant land
The prison guard got angry.
He put an end to the dialogue
He said he didn’t care for poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
He came back to see me
–Where did all this water come from?
–I brought it from the Nile.
–And the trees?
–From the orchards of Damascus.
–And the music?
–From my heartbeat.
The prison guard got mad,
But returned in the evening
–Where did this moon come from?
–From the nights of Baghdad.
–And the wine?
–From the vineyards of Algiers.
–And this freedom?
–From the chain you tied me with last night.
The prison guard grew so sad…
He begged me to give him back
His freedom.
by Mahmud Darwish, Palestine
Translated and abridged by Ben Bennani
The Poetry Corner 