Micro Poem 31

Rise above those clouds

Go beyond the sun
Transcend the galaxy
Just don’t cross out the line
between my wisdom

and your idiocy!

–Soodabeh Saeidnia

Soodabeh was born in Iran and received multiple degrees from Tehran University of Medical Sciences. She has being worked as the University researcher, as a professor for 10 years in Japan, Iran and Canada, and has published about 150 scientific papers in prestigious journals as well as books in both English and Persian. Now, she is living in New York with her husband and 9-year-old son. She is interested in writing science fiction and poems in English, and has published a book of her poems in Persian named “Words for myself”, which you can find here, as well as her Facebook and Twitter.

Micro Poem 30

You,

a long overdue
Me,
an expired nominee
We
aren’t promise-keeper,
let’s be free.

–Soodabeh Saeidnia

Soodabeh was born in Iran and received multiple degrees from Tehran University of Medical Sciences. She has being worked as the University researcher, as a professor for 10 years in Japan, Iran and Canada, and has published about 150 scientific papers in prestigious journals as well as books in both English and Persian. Now, she is living in New York with her husband and 9-year-old son. She is interested in writing science fiction and poems in English, and has published a book of her poems in Persian named “Words for myself”, which you can find here, as well as her Facebook and Twitter.

Laila’s Love

I—Laila
you have created
for every
glimpse of majnun
from desert-to-desert
grains of sand i abandon
turn into rosary beads
-tying prayers
to lonely sky
to an estranged land

–Noor Aisya Buang

Aisya has been writing poems since 2011. Her poems and short stories have been published in Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia newspapers. Her first poetry book Kastil Aisya (Aisya’s Castle)  has won book prize in Malay Literary Award, Singapore 2015 and shortlisted for Singapore Literature Prize 2016. Her second Malay poetry book Cahaya Dalam Sunyi (Light in Loneliness) has been published recently. She is now in preparation to translate her poems in English and publishing her first Malay short stories. She can be reached through email kastialaisya@gmail.com

Micro Poem 29

Silence sings

whenever
the life’s wheel
hurdles on the gravel
dispersed by tiny minds.

–Soodabeh Saeidnia

Soodabeh was born in Iran and received multiple degrees from Tehran University of Medical Sciences. She has being worked as the University researcher, as a professor for 10 years in Japan, Iran and Canada, and has published about 150 scientific papers in prestigious journals as well as books in both English and Persian. Now, she is living in New York with her husband and 9-year-old son. She is interested in writing science fiction and poems in English, and has published a book of her poems in Persian named “Words for myself”, which you can find here, as well as her Facebook and Twitter.

Micro Poem 28

Keep galloping

on my broken heart.
The shards
aren’t sharp
and the blood
has already dried.

–Soodabeh Saeidnia

Soodabeh was born in Iran and received multiple degrees from Tehran University of Medical Sciences. She has being worked as the University researcher, as a professor for 10 years in Japan, Iran and Canada, and has published about 150 scientific papers in prestigious journals as well as books in both English and Persian. Now, she is living in New York with her husband and 9-year-old son. She is interested in writing science fiction and poems in English, and has published a book of her poems in Persian named “Words for myself”, which you can find here, as well as her Facebook and Twitter.

A Night’s Tale

wonder how many times i exhale a breath,
like a sword–slicing up the breeze
then. mete out to the surface faintly
utmost quietly.

 

dear, the lantern dazing a twinkling light
its gloom can’t be read; in darkness embedded
an ancient of silence so fond of recording sounds
from a century panting-hymning the sky’s psalms
smoothing stillness, hushing up meaning
creating a distance between you–me, till our eyes
unable to touch sight, even no more
unable to grasp lght.

 

“from the slices of breeze i have executed,
only sign language is being picked not
been assessed by thee of its howling…”

 

(and like yesterday, dear;
the breeze and night are still singing majnun’s qasidah
through the breath of nafs: heart.)
–Noor Aisya Buang

Aisya has been writing poems since 2011. Her poems and short stories have been published in Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia newspapers. Her first poetry book Kastil Aisya (Aisya’s Castle)  has won book prize in Malay Literary Award, Singapore 2015 and shortlisted for Singapore Literature Prize 2016. Her second Malay poetry book Cahaya Dalam Sunyi (Light in Loneliness) has been published recently. She is now in preparation to translate her poems in English and publishing her first Malay short stories. She can be reached through email kastialaisya@gmail.com

Now and Then

She disappeared for a week.

Waiting for the bruises to fade.

The she disappeared inside herself.  

***

A dark satin ribbon

against her milky white skin.

Up against the crease where

thigh melts into her pelvis,

where no one will see.  

===

WEEKDAYS

Wake up

Breathe

Repeat 
 +   

WORK

hours on the internet

looking up the price of flights

Places she knows she’ll never go.  

Places with names that melt

like spun sugar
 +         

WEEKENDS

sleep that eludes weekdays

falls like a deluge

Sleeping. Ceiling. Netflix. Ceiling. Sleeping. 

@@@

HIM

Pretending it’s normal.

That she is normal.

That nothing has changed.          

_____

THEN

smoky darkness

waterfalls of liquor

a trickle

then a torrent  

a guy, not her guy, watches her

the guy isn’t handsome,

isn’t charming,

isn’t smart;

but what he is,

he thinks…

is here.

blurry face she shouldn’t have kissed

wanting to go home

hands around her throat

streams of silent tears

coursing over her temples

into her hair.

####

HOW

it begins:

A birthday.

Moth emerging

out of a cocoon

of lethargy and apathy.

Lather, rinse, repeat.  

She picks up the razor.  
Back of her knee –

a shifting mountainside

contours and indentations.

The razor slips.

She hisses.

Blood trickles

There it hangs

a Rorschach test

wherein she sees herself.

She smiles.

For the first time in months

^^^^^

NOW

the razor

or pin

or her nails

into her palms

 

This is real,

she thinks.

I made this happened.

 

It’s okay,

she thinks.

I only do it now and then.

–Kylie Goetz

When Kylie was five, she wanted to be either a nun or a lounge singer. Luckily (for the church and lounge patrons everywhere) she discovered a love for storytelling around the same age.  This eventually translated into a B.A in theatre from Florida State University and a MA in creative writing from Macquarie University.  You can buy her book here and follow her Word of the Day Poetry Project