Named Hurricanes

In response to Anna Akhmatova’s ‘You Will Hear Thunder’


“It is poets and philosophers who tend to think clearly of death”
~Sherwin Nuland

I shall dance in the pouring rain
And my footsteps shall create sandstorms.
My spins and twirls more on point that tornados in
Glass bottles.
My movement: poetry that will swallow you deeper
Than the waves of tsunamis.
My name shall live longer than named hurricanes.

* A poem a little early than usual as I shall be participating in an MUN competition this Sunday.

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Pen VS Bullets

A timely piece with all the political and military tension all over the world. 

In response to Sidney Keyes’s “War Poet”

“War Poet” is a simple poem I believe Sidney Keyes used to show that he was not meant for the battle field and that it wasn’t his decision to be on it. I believe it is also his interpretation of what happens when War and Poetry mix together- the risk of insanity and thus his wasted potential. “Pen VS Bullets” plays with the two possible decisions Sidney could have made along with the difficulties of both decisions to  bring to light the struggles of war.

All my life, my pen has been my protector.

I wasn’t one who knew how to use anything else nor believed anything could defend me better than words –which I used as an armour.

So, imagine the confusion I felt when someone had used a pen to uproot the lives of others, forgoing it as a protector.

Trust upon me was the decision to be like all men my age, dawn on courage for the sake of my country, the future of its people and ultimately peace.

Trust upon me was the fact that such a decision could lead to my death and hence the death of a man for a cause he did not wholeheartedly believe in, or better still in which its solution, he did not wholeheartedly believe in.

Trust upon me was years of rehabilitation, the possibility of insanity and thus lost potential.

Yet on the other side,

Present was the decision to abandon my country when she and my people needed me most.

Present was the opportunity to grow as a writer but the threat of insanity from the guilt that would come knocking on my doors.

Will my pen see me through the end of this dilemma?

 

The Answers

It’s hidden in
Their deaths
The aftermath of the stories they create
The aftermath of living in storyland and experiencing all they wished they could but couldn’t or/and didn’t dare to in the real world.
Tennessee Williams, a profound writer
Who didn’t believe in original sins or guilt but in the reasoning that the right or wrong that individuals make is “by necessity or by certain still-comprehended influences in themselves, their circumstances, and their antecedent”
So,
How would Tennessee Williams explain his own tragic death from asphyxiation?
The fancy word for
His chocking on a plastic medicine cap
An irony or a protest?

It’s hidden in
The 15-20 mins planned story I performed
About how I lived in the Worlds of the characters in my novels
Placed myself in their shoes and took their skin
For so long, far too long
That I was facing the consequences of
A slowly but surely dying body
Due to a disease unknown to man.

It’s hidden in
My poem STORYLAND
In which the very reason I open a book
Books which are so much like life
With a beginning and an end
With many adventures in between
Is simply for the joy of experiencing
Experiencing
More than I ever could in this life time.

It’s hidden in
The New Year Resolutions we make
The bucket list we create
Our search for love
The dreams we hunt for and the goals we hope to fulfill
But most especially the uncertainty of death at any point in time
That lingers in the air.

It’s hidden in
But it’s not that hard to see.

A letter to your heart

This is probably the last time
I’ll get to write to you or anybody for that matter.

Unlike most people,
When they find out that they are going to die
They don’t lie in bed and wait for it to happen.

Well, I guess I’m different.
Always have been, you would know.
I don’t have anything I need to do before I die,
I have already accomplished my bucket list and
I most definitely don’t have any regrets
So why not?

You however young lad,
You haven’t lived till 90
There’s no reason for you to be depressed.

I have lots to tell you, really but not enough words to say everything.
That’s the problem, I don’t have the words to show you how much I love you.
To show you what a blissful life you have allowed me to live.
To show you the hardship that I’ve been able to overcome.
To show you how I don’t wish for more time but that you have the best time during your days.

This isn’t a letter for your brain.
Nope.
It’s for your heart
It’s going to act as a remedy, you have to let it

There is nothing left for me to say.
A part of live is figuring it out oneself.

X