I need your help!

Right, so I’ve decided I want to enter into this years Muslim Writer’s Awards. They’re a great bunch o’ people that really believe and celebrate creative writing among the youth. What happens is that every year, you can submit your work – whether that be a short story or a poem. There’s different sections which thousands of people enter. I want to be one of those people this year, so I need your help trying to figure out which poem I should enter.

There’s Def Jam poets, writers from amazing publishing companies and notable figures who will be judging. I could have a chance at actually being trained by these people and secure a job at a publishing firm.. IF I win my category. Also, a chance at getting my work published! So yeah.. it would be great if you could have a read through the poems (if you haven’t done so already) and help me decide which poem is the winning one! You’re more than welcome to share this page so I can a better idea of which one to pick. (Psssttt! You can pick more than one.) Thank you 🙂

To make things easier, I’m going to put the links for the poems here so you don’t have to go search for them 🙂

A Means to an End: https://jadamee.wordpress.com/2012/04/11/a-means-to-an-end/
For You: https://jadamee.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/for-you/
Don’t Be: https://jadamee.wordpress.com/2011/12/19/dont-be/
My Curator: https://jadamee.wordpress.com/2012/04/18/my-curator/
Tap Dance: https://jadamee.wordpress.com/2012/01/05/tap-dance/
One Look: https://jadamee.wordpress.com/2012/03/25/one-look/

That’s all of them. Again, thank you!

Thinking Out Loud

I’m standing lethargically at the platform waiting for the next train to get home from work. My heels are hurting me and the woman who did my nails did a botched up job. I’ve got company; my friend that I have gotten close to quicker than anyone else. We’ve been friends for 4 years. He asks me how long it’s been since you left, even though he already knew the answer. Startled, I look to my fingers and start counting the hours. You’ve been gone 33 years and 3 months. That I know, but I feel obliged to know how many days and hours you’ve been gone. Then I realise why I’m flustered and I feel warmth on my cheeks. I’m crying.

Embarrassed and not knowing what to do, I start stuttering and the words are stuck in my throat. My friend doesn’t know what to do so he just stares at me while I try to regain composure. I’ve forgotten what you look like, the image has been obscured and you are now just an outline. All I remember are the conversations I’ve had about not forgetting you. If you were here, things would have been different. If you were here, you would have taken care of the same people that I have failed. You would have taken care of me. I’ve repeated these lines over and over again.

You would have carried on a conversation when I just turn to silence. You would have made me and my sister tighten our ties when I just pretend I don’t realise her presence. You would have gone up to mum and tucked her loose hair behind her ear when I just sit from a distance and stare. You would have been gentle and sincere, but all everyone has been left with is despair.

The warmth I would have felt from you, I start to feel from someone new. I didn’t mean to get close. I didn’t mean to find you in him. I don’t know what your eyes looked like, but his eyes have replaced yours. Before I think of you, I think of him now. I’m sorry, I don’t know how it happened.

You were taken from us before I was born. You’re now sitting in the corner of heaven, still a child… still innocent, wondering why we didn’t love you enough to keep you here. Whilst I’m forgetting you, you’re crying in the corner of heaven because you think mum doesn’t love you. Is heaven, heaven, if you think you’ve been abandoned? Does heaven have corners?

Don’t let your imagination run wild. I know it sounds crazy, missing someone you’ve never met. But, we all do it, right? We all think about what could have been. Maybe God took you for a reason. This world’s Evil would have battled with you and who knows who may have won. Maybe God took you because my thoughts of you are better than the person you could have been.  Maybe – So I think to myself.

Just because you’re gone it doesn’t mean you’re forgotten, I think, whilst enclosed in the arms of my friend. The one who’s replaced you. My mascara is all over his shirt. He rolls his eyes because this isn’t the first time I’ve ruined his shirt. Our train is here and we head home. He gets out his iPod and gives me the left side of his headphones. He puts on my favourite song, Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car. I close my eyes with my head on his shoulders, feeling safe.

My Curator

A day full of exchanging syllables,

Parables told over the dinner table.

All are fallible, but you cannot be.

I find it hard to believe.

You believe in the tales of our forefathers

The tales of your father

And that only takes you farther

Away from the current.

The present doesn’t like your presence

Because you believe the present caresses the careless.

Am I too reckless for your inheritance?

The necklace that rests upon God’s ticking time bomb

The family heirloom placed so close to your chest.

You don’t play with the cards dealt, so you force a poker face

And I have to create a story from the deep lines under your eyes.

We do nothing more than exchange looks,

But you tell your people to love thy neighbour.

We do nothing more than co-exist

But you preach about unity at the altar.

My curator is now watching our timeless picture,

praying for a new daughter

With incessant innocence.

The sermon ends, and you step down from the pedestal.

The same pedestal I carved my initials into.

I decided to worship you no more.

Because the taller I got

And the smaller you get –

I see too many flaws.

I focus on the beauty in your tired eyes

The memory of listening to your heartbeat

whilst lying on your chest.

I now use that sound to drown out

The tangible ignorance.

To keep our timeless picture forever alive,

I close my eyes

and repeat,

My Curator, The Creator.

My Curator, The Creator.

My Curator, The Creator.

Audio: Means To An End.

I thought I’d try something different for a change, yknow.. mix it up a little. I decided to just practice the poem ‘Means To An End’ as a spokenword piece. I recorded it and viola! The link is below, it’d be great if you could have a listen. Maybe you could also pass on some advice or just any comments. Let me know if you like it, so I can figure out if I should do more or not! Enjoy 🙂

Click for the audio link here: http://hulkshare.com/y23g62w9cswp/Means

A Means To An End.

I see him through the sharp blades

The green of the grass succumbs to his shade

Shimmering in the rain he’s dancing for His Day

Whispering silent prayers, asking Mother to marry his heartache with gain.

I rest upon an oak tree, not far from where he stands

And watch his movements

Face down, head in his hands.

The breeze holds him up

And whilst he stands, he introduces his silent cry

To a future plan.

A plan now gone awry.

A force of nature falling to his knees

Fist clenched, resisting, compelling to his suffering.

He looks for answers in places

Where questions are not welcome.

Busying himself with pursuing what’s already been taken

All that he knew, everything that was his.

He’s giving up hope, losing his patience

He looks up at the sun and he’s jealous

It can disappear into The Darkness.

His blood is boiling, eyes lose It’s Shine

You won’t leave his mind.

He paints you with rough strokes

Angry that you’ve left him alone.

Paints you with colours you’ve never heard before.

Scratches your cheekbones into a piece of wood.

He relieves his final image of you

Pale skin, brown eyes, curls in your hair looks like a soft tide

You were wearing a blue and white gown you learnt to despise.

You were clutching on to the necklace he bought you,

On the 2^nd Sunday of May,

The Day they all cried.

Fearful of becoming weak for Your Demise

He paints a smile on Your Face

For he couldn’t place one before you passed.

And now you’re the past,

And memories of you are passing him by.

His pain is now posing as a Desire To Be Great.

He won’t let his pain get in the way

Of making sure you’re proud of him. One day.

He places perfection on a canvas

On his mantelpiece

So he can be graced,

Everyday.

With A Memory.

For You: Behind The Screen

‘For You’ was inspired by The Kite Runner, a book written by Khaled Hosseini. I read the book a while ago in one day. I just couldn’t put the book down. This book took me through a whirlwind of emotions. It’s about a journey of a friendship between two boys in Afghanistan, Amir and Hussain. Amir, the son of a rich man, yearns for his fathers love as he believes Hassan, son of the servant who works for Amir and his father, has been slowly taking his father’s love away. Amir and Hassan grew up together and Hassan was the successful kite runner for Amir’s kite flying competitions. An event happened (which I won’t reveal for those who haven’t read it yet) which changes the whole story.

The infamous line that stood out to me, and I’m sure to many others who also read the book, is the line ‘For you, a thousand times over.’ That line encompasses the whole narrative of the book. It’s about how far one would go to be loyal to another, to love another, to look out for another. We go through everything Amir goes through. Feels everything he feels. I also hated him a little because of the way he acted when Hassan went through huge lengths to remain being a loyal friend.

I had to fight with my own thoughts, whether I liked Amir or not, whether he did the right thing or not. So many elements of this story that I could relate to. Does Amir really love Hassan the way he says he does? Do we love people the way we say we do? We all talk the talk,  but when it comes down to really being there for someone, do we bottle it and turn back or do we go through many burdens just to be there for them? We all connect to one another, in some sense, because we all have something another person needs. Whether that be time, a good laugh or a distraction. I don’t know if this is too brave/brash to say, but we are all selfish. We all need and want from one another. So when the time comes, where you have to make that decision about whether you should look out for yourself for the greater good or take yourself out of the equation and look out for another regardless of the consequences… would you stumble? I’m only asking because I wouldn’t know what to do in that situation. Maybe it’s better to go through a moment of pain and live in blissful ignorance. Or it could be better to go through pain for a long period of time but knowing you’ve done your best. Each situation is different. I couldn’t pick one. But it’s that fight within ourselves that I wanted to highlight.

Also, another very important aspect of the poem is the issue of rape. This is something quite personal to me. It happened to someone I know, a very long time ago. I wanted to write it for her knowing that I wish I could have saved her from it because it has scarred her so much that it stops her from doing certain things, even to this day. It has changed the way she views relationships and the people she talks to. It stops her from getting close to anyone. And understandably so. But that one tiny moment has changed her life. And I couldn’t help but wonder what she would have been like if that never happened. The sad thing is that she felt like she couldn’t go to anyone for help. It may seem like a petty thing to say, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. I know she wouldn’t have been the amazing person she is today without that experience testing her strength and faith in humanity.

Rape and domestic violence is and has always been a taboo subject. But taboo subjects are usually the ones that need to be talked about. I don’t have much brain power to change this, but I do have my writing ability. So I will help in any way I can.

This poem is for those who have felt oppressed, been taken advantage of, and for those who genuinely wish they could have done something about it.

The journey begins!

This is the first time I’ve done anything of the sort. I must say, I am a little nervous. I did get the few ‘break a leg’ comments and I’m sure I’ve been talking about this blog for so long that many meant it literally.

If you haven’t done so already, check out the ‘About’ bit so you can see what I’m all about. I’m open to answer any questions on my poetry so don’t be afraid to ask! I hope I can make my blog an enjoyable one to read 🙂