A Dusk of Reasoning, a Curtailing and a Quickening #publication

© Omar Musa for Visual Verse

The night is swollen and ever-present. Curling into my shoulders. East wind stirs my whiskers. I, padding, into a stillness of welcome, summon knowing. The babies of night unfurled stir twice, thrice, then hitch a ride on a hump-back dream into yonderland.

Where I too am headed. My quiet laughter turns into willing. My prowl, alertness of darkness. Eyes keen in the night, my brother goes hence. I feel his hunt in my knees, in the down of my belly.

Dare I cross the waters? I . . .

. . . would be delighted if you went here to read the rest of the poem.

© N Nazir 2022

*Shared for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Bjorn.

*I’m so pleased to be published in Visual Verse this month. I only realised when a fellow blogger pointed it out to me. Pretty delighted as they rejected me four months in a row earlier this year! I hope you enjoy the piece 🙂

*And my chosen Throwback Thursday for today is a classic Neneh Cherry track: Manchild, from her debut album, Raw Like Sushi, 1989. I still find it bewitchingly beautiful. She performed at Glastonbury Festival in 2019 (which I watched from the comfort of my living room) and sounded just as good as ever – and didn’t look much different either! Some people are kind of ageless.

She started off playing in punk bands in the early 80s, before becoming a solo singer-songwriter and rapper soon after. If you’ve never heard of Neneh, you will likely have heard her music before, such as Seven Seconds featuring Youssou N’dour, which was a major hit in 1994. Being both British and Swedish, she is based between London and Stockholm and although she doesn’t release music any more, she is still a major part of British pop history.

I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do. Do you have a favourite Neneh Cherry song? Feel free to share it in the comments below. Or if you have another throwback you’d like to share, please be my guest! 🙂

Some Kind of Love Story # publication

Erasure Poem #7, ink & gel pen on paper, Sketchbooks 2021, © N Nazir 2021
Text source: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, p.40-41

His beautiful silver
smoke rings.

Her devious
charm.

A long outrageous
conversation
about love
amidst
candlelight.

She and he
in Siamese
stupor.

He needed
courage.

The silence

allowed

something

wonderful.

© N Nazir 2022

I’m delighted to have this erasure poem published in the latest issue of Unlost Journal, a wonderful online journal that regularly publishes found poetry and art. This is issue #29 entitled “How Daily My Life” where you can view my submission and read all other entries (poem published under Nina Nazir). Hope you like!!

Shared for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Linda.

Time is a Haunt #dVerse 

I finally received my copy of the anthology Reimagining Ageing through the post. It was an exploratory project I took part in in 2021 along with a bunch of other writers, where together we wrote pieces in response to the subject of ageing and how the idea of time, and how meaningfully we spend our time, has changed since covid entered our world.

I have four poems published in this, one of which was part of a poetry exhibition, details of which you can check out here. Below is the longest of four poems I’m proud to have included in this diverse moving anthology, entitled Time is a Haunt. It’s not the cheeriest, I must say. So it doesn’t seem right to say I hope you enjoy it. There was a lot of death going on last year and the year before. But of course, there’s always death going on, isn’t there. This year has reached another pinnacle.

I read this poem back now and as always, I’d love to rewrite it. Too late! It’s in print. Anyway, here it is.

© N Nazir 2022

Shared for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Sanaa.

*Unfortunately, there are only limited copies of this anthology so I’m unable to provide a link to purchase it. However, I will probably share more poems from it in future.

*In case you’re wondering, I do have a fairly bright outlook on life in general.

*I would edit the crap out of this if I could though, honestly.

*Here’s one of my current ear worms:

The Void Stirs #publication

© Geetanjal Khanna (Unsplash)

The edge of searching is a place that soaks

you in rain, for you would rather get wet

and take the long way to meet your dream than…


…I would be delighted if you would read the rest of the poem here.

© N Nazir 2022

*I am over the moon to have my poem published in the latest issue of Green Ink Poetry! My greatest thanks to this wonderful press for accepting my work ❤ You can also read all other poets work here.

*This poem was first written for NaPoWriMo this year. I decided to use my own name for a change. However, I enjoy being called Sunra, so please continue to do so 🙂

In Broad Daylight

I saw a crow do something disgusting the other day.  Perhaps it’s natural and I just didn’t know that it’s perfectly normal behaviour for a crow.  I was walking toward the main square when I saw the familiar blue-blackness up ahead.  Raven or crow? I wondered.  There are differences.  It always surprises me how big they are close up.  Substantial.  Their stance, sort of proud as they strut. 

I noticed it foraging at the foot of a tree then lift up its head.  Something was moving in its mouth.  That’s a mighty big worm, I thought.  What had it captured?  Surely, it’s not…?  It can’t be.  It was.  A tiny bird.  Squirming.  Held fast.  Far from escape.  A little wagtail.  I could see it.  The tail.  Wagging in the crow’s beak.  I felt terrible.  I love those little birds.  Oh, how it wriggled.  But the crow was an expert at bird-napping.  You could tell.  Though wagtail was certainly not napping.  It was lunch and it knew it.  I, hungry, moments ago ruminating over all the ways I could murder a cinnamon bun, instantly lost my appetite. 

Crow gave me side-eye, then hopped-skipped-flew onto the perch of a nearby café, before pecking at its fresh catch.  Turns out crows are cannibals.  Perhaps all birds are and I know nothing.  Predators are fascinating.  I skipped lunch that day.

Now I understand
why they call it a murder.
Rest in peace, wagtail. 

© N Nazir 2022

*this is absolutely true. It’s taken me a while to get the image out of my head so God knows why I’ve gone and shared it with you all. It’s all I could think of to write for this prompt.

Written for dVerse Poetry Prompt night hosted by Ingrid, who challenges us to write a corvid poem, that is, a poem related to a bird from the corvidae family. These include ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, choughs, magpies and crows.

*Here’s an erasure poem I did last year that also fits the prompt. Apologies for the poor quality photo. Text taken from The First Man by Albert Camus.

Erasure Poem #39, ink on paper, © N Nazir 2021

Ravens brood
and obsess
over dark things
filing away
the tragedies
of the past.


*In other news, thank you to Whispers and Echoes for publishing my poem There is Comfort Here. This is the last of the three I mentioned before and was originally written for NaPoWriMo last month. If you wish, you can read it here.