Poem-making like this is fiddly af but I find it so fulfilling, I can’t even tell you. I had a whole bunch of things to do and yet my morning got swallowed up like this. ‘Cause I’ve got my priorities right…?
I also stumbled across this gorgeous piece of music recently. I always suspected I liked Debussy but now I know for sure. Ideal for poem-making.
It’s a risk to wear a headscarf and walk down the street it’s a risk to say you’re Muslim it’s a risk to defend what it means to be Muslim and in the very same breath admit you’re not sure if you are Muslim to question it, to question everything even though your respectable Muslim family did their best to raise you well and loved you anyway while you deviated in every possible way. You were just different middle child syndrome you wouldn’t stop drawing were sick of doing chores stayed in your room, ignored everyone swore and slammed doors. You hated rules, revolted wanted freedom more than anything so you ran away from home at sixteen discovered boys and booze and music you were a tearaway if they told you you couldn’t you would. How your sweet parents despaired but loved you anyway. You loved them too you just couldn’t contain this wildfire.
You risk loss at every turn for deciding to be who you are for following some inner voice that won’t let up. It may cost you the friendship of your oldest dearest friend who you outgrow with every skin you shed.
You risk lamenting what-could-have-beens if you do nothing. You risk being mobbed if you’re famous. You risk being shot for merely existing.
Defining yourself in this camp or that one: bohemian / Catholic / right-wing / vegan / capitalist / gay / communist- all has its perils. is it worth the freedom to declare yourself thus and thus? Or is it best to keep schtum and live your life undisturbed? But how can you hide what you are? We co-exist in colourful conflict and if you’re both loved and hated does that mean you’ve got something right? Is it okay to be in-between forever searching and still not know where you belong?
This could be – tackling difficult subjects laying bare a personal struggle in vivid detail writing on any topic as long the word “risk” is used (perhaps the risk we take falling in love) exploring a new writing form that you may find “risky” or unconventional.
*This poem is so rough and ready, I’m not even sure it’s a poem. It also got way more personal than I expected. Taking my cue from the theme, I decided to post it anyway.
Why, bananas, are you inherently comical? Your cartoon strip tease your tripping over ease. Your smile-shaped, cheery demeanour. It’s hard not to like you. Even Bananaman’s foes could never take him seriously.
And the apple. Oh, apple. You are the stuff of legend, Apple. Why were you so forbidden, you innocent-looking thing? Your tart tang, your fine cider. Not only Eve-chosen from the knowledge tree you helped Newton discover gravity. You’re a myth-maker, Apple. Truly, I think you’re hard-core. I’m probably your biggest fan.
On another note, why is it every time I cut a watermelon it becomes art?
The challenge is to think of a fruit, how it looks before and after it has been cut open, and how it tastes. Think about where and how it grows, and what it makes you think of. You can explore the fruit in another way and in any form you wish. Whichever you choose, your poem should appeal to the senses.