Daily Poem

Outside My Window


I watch the birds outside my window

How they all chose to
Take off
at once

Like dust
Ready to be swept away
By some invisible broom

Only two last birds
Stayed behind
And then
Together,
They too
Took flight

How strange
I thought, they should all
Make up their minds like that

together
In silence

How quickly our lives
Pick up and
Go

With or without all the chatter
Like birds on a bare tree
On an autumn day
Leaving the branch
As if they just knew

Daily Poem

A Poem for David


Sometimes when you’re sleeping
You look like a little boy
And I can imagine
You at 6 or 12

Coming back from your school day
Bringing back a half empty lunch box
Maybe you didn’t eat the crust
Maybe you left the veggies
Maybe you traded your bologna sandwich
For something prepackaged
And delicious
But I know better
and won’t project on all the things
I had dared to do
as a child

sometimes I see your family
in the outlines of your face
then
I see something that is distinctly yours
The long gait
The mind that came from
Your own hard work
And persistence

There is something so boyish
Even when you type away
And I
Spying from behind
Stealing glances of the man
I see every day

I wonder if a day will come
When I will stop discovering you.
When you will become familiar
And unsurprising
Like a soft, known
Worn in chair

Like the one
I sank in

The one
Too small for you
But still
Your favorite

Like the boy
Who I saw last night
And this morning

Or maybe
I will keep discovering you
Even when
I am not looking.

Daily Poem

Pause:


I wrote a letter to myself
With almost no punctuation.

I ran the sentences back and forth
Around the bend and over the lines
I crossed some t’s but not all
And forgot to dot the i’s

I wrote breathlessly
But not carelessly.
The intent was not grammar
But thought

Thoughts:
Where does this come from, and how do I sort it? Can I feel it out, or should I sweep it under the rug of my life? What about the job/greencard/nausea/lack of sleep/child inside. What about the chores/laundry/dishes, and will someone ever call? Why is my hair is changing texture and so hard to comb? But what about people with real problems, and how these hardly seem to justify the tears I woke up with, or the swollen eyes. And what about feeling so alone?

The pen takes a rest.
The breath slows down - and deepens

the answers will come when they will
and no
you may not always have it your way

my thoughts run away
breathless, as I chase behind

and then,
I stop.

Daily Poem

Mornings

I welcome my mornings

Even though lately

They have become a chore

I want you so painfully

I don’t mind the pain

The swelling

The stillness

I grow all over again

With you

I stretch

and gather

and let loose

Just lately,

I realize I too can be beautiful

With a healthy dose of self acceptance

I imagine strollers and summers

How I will become those women

who looked foreign

whose bodies had been

inhabited

and useful

I spend mornings tucked away

In my own thoughts

I wait for you

knowing

You will come

Daily Poem

Read on someone's shirt:

haikus are easy
but sometimes they don't make sense
refrigerator



Isn't that funny!!
So here is my go at haiku...


sometimes passing through
is just as important as
being there always


orange bow tie shoes
are not meant for dancing but
to sing in the house

out of the shower
drips of water on cold floor
I never dry feet

re-reading last year
through old poems and letters
I remember life

who will feed the cat
she paws at the door and meows
I pretend deafness

haiku for you
whose face I take in each day
like it is a gift

Daily Poem

Today I wrote a poem about writing a poem!

Writing a poem

Finally

Alone with my words

I choose them and coax them

And ask them where they would like to lay

I think aloud

Then on paper

I have imaginary talks with friends I haven’t seen

And those I’ve never known

The cat walks by

The words disappear

I re-emerge somewhere in the poem

It finds me

Or sometimes it doesn’t

Sometimes it is only me

And my wishes to create something beautiful

Which never appears

and even when words don’t come

and poems are forced

a small creak

can be heard

from the inside

I like who I am

When I am writing

A poem.

Poetry Break!

I discovered poetry break in Saudi Arabia. My parents moved there when I was 6, and by 2nd grade, they enrolled me in an American school. I did not speak any English, and I remember sitting in my new class, waiting for my ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher to pull me out during Language Arts so I could learn the basics. Meanwhile, it seemed everyone around me was doing better things! They were reading real books! They were listening to stories! They were doing real 2nd grade things! But towards the end of the year, my ESL teacher thought I was good enough to stay in my regular class - and she couldn't have picked a better moment! It was Poetry Break month, and we would each choose a poem to read aloud to all the other classes in the school. Now that I think back, it was probably my first time speaking English to such a captive audience (the whole class would have my undivided attention!). I chose a poem - Nobody loves me, by Shel Silverstein, and began my love for poetry then. It was such a triumph for me. With time, I learned that poetry is just as wonderful in my own private moments...although sometimes, it is just nice to share ;)