Oh’ Palestine a dreamer
OH’ PALESTINE #poetry by jay
dreaming of freedom
freedom to care about the birds
the doves delivering
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh. All Rights Reserved.
Tag: freeverse
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OH’ PALESTINE #poetry by jay
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OTHER/check OTHER if you care #poetry by jay
‣ Categorize
‣ Tabulate
‣ Collate
‣ Postulate
Your genius
Separate the best of the best
the last of the last
a census of class—race
to the top you go
We are a race—a class
indistinct
White when needed
to fill a seat
Arab when needed
in terror you seek
Irish—go there
Arab—go there
check other if you care
Irish/ Arab
shape-shifting myths/ lies
your hands are tied—
your mind wrapped tight
fists raised high
to star spangled height
but our erasure is documented
twisted around my spine
othered out loud/ in broad daylight
an occupation/ a confiscation
a colonization/ a genocide—
today/ tomorrow/ yesterday
we claim—
birthright to land
right of return
freedom to speak
and unbridled peace—
no census needed
when freedom is achieved.
.© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Enayet Raheem on Unsplash
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CENSORSHIP #poetry by jay
POETRY OF RESISTANCE IN
OCCUPIED PALESTINETRANSLATED BY
SULAFA HIJJAWI
Published by the Ministry of Culture Baghdad- Iraq
1968
This is a revised and edited version- 2009Today, first a poem by Fadwa Tuqan, selected from the historical document POETRY OF RESISTANCE IN OCCUPIED PALESTINE, followed by a poem that I wrote back in the early 2000’s, in response to censorship which again, is rearing its ugly head stronger than ever today–
EVER ALIVE
by FADWA TUQAN,
My beloved home land
No matter how long the millstone
Of pain and agony churns you
In the wilderness of tyranny,
They will never be able
To pluck your eyes
Or kill your hopes and dreams
Or crucify your will to rise
Or steel the smiles of our children
Or destroy and burn,
Because out from our deep sorrows,
Out from the freshness of our spilled blood
Out from the quiverings of life and death
Life will be reborn in you again………
ODE TO CENSORSHIP
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
why should i
shut up
what i
believe is
wrong
i don’t want to
hurt you
but i must be
strong
in justice
not cower at
injustice
my pride
is in what’s
correct
i believe
the u.s.a.
is corrupt
breathing, living off
someone else’s
air, land and stolen
contraband
this united states
government
has created
many enemies
with their
thuggish
foreign policies
how long do
you believe
uncle sam
will understand
they are justified
in their
right to
concretize
their warring
plan
to conquer
every piece
of land
upon
this
earth
so grand
bleeding
wringing out
the souls
of cultures
ancient and
cosmopolitan
this land
this u.s. land
land stolen
not so long ago
the genocide
of native
american
man
woman
child
so blood thirsty
for the gold
too bold
in their arrogance
striking young, striking old
in defiance
of a peoples’
generosities
taking advantage
of their reciprocity
how long before
the end
of a system
built off these
atrocities
this war
this massacre
this seizing of land
will cause nothing
more than
a devastating plan
of self-destruction
and
a ‘quick flash in the pan’
of a people
too greedy
too backward
too
in-humanitarian
I see justice
on the horizon
beating a path
of victory
from years of
oppression
lighting the way
for democratic
expression
lost in the
onslaught of
criminal
repression
of culture’s
so vast
it’s beyond
comprehension
of
beautiful worlds
years ahead
of this time, this place
ahead of this race
to capture control
and bottle
the magic that
inhales and exhales with
unwavering grace
a peoples’ so strong
so rightful in place.Photo by Wallace Chuck from Pexels
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DRONE #poetry by jay
The drone of night rings in the throats of cicadas, singing the day to sleep, causes my tinnitus to kick in calm as it may be it disturbs every nerve in my inner ear, breaking the silence I wanted to murder earlier in the day— dusk, night, threatening me to end this pause of bereavement. I witness the sun escaping a break in clouds of gray— rain, wind, soaking my thoughts of this ‘figuring’, tinkering, congealing my feelings of loneliness from the shrinking of humanity, from the vacuous longings for conversations— connections to what I once knew. I drone on like cicadas in ritualistic humming, unwinding the tape of all the information that led me here, now wondering— how to feel alive, erasing, meditating as the dark creeps in and around and beneath my feet.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Benoit Gauzere on Unsplash
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GRUNTING #poetry by jay
insipid but still you curl your lashed tongue and leap like a leopard at my feet feral indeed your venom spit through cracked teeth you spew hatred like fire feeding on dry boughs withered branches and dead vowels that use to mean something to someone in need lost egos and soulless bodies left in a heap of black ash whispers of failed bureaucracies minted inheritances and shotgun marriages sealed and consummated at the end of long-gun barrels never proposing just grunting— then taking.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Bogdan Pasca on Unsplash
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SHIRKED THE MOMENT #poetry by jay
Celebrate? I’ve turned it down shirked the moment for stead/ I pretend no need exists in my human calendar created from birth to now the moment gone psssst fluff a cloud like dust on graves and lifeless frowns the celebration ignored muscles taut around thoughts of pointless ness ness dark caught my eye and i got sucked into a vortex tex tex regret lingers in my cerebral cortex tex tex Piss off you viper— I’m back!
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Ben Rosett on Unsplash
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POEM UP at SPILLWORDS #poetry by Jay
My poem published at Spillwords today, celebrates an old favorite poet and early influence, Pablo Neruda.
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Feathered Fool
And here he is again…FEATHERED FOOL #poetry by Jay
— Read on artistfromtheinsideout.wordpress.com/2020/10/08/feathered-fool/ -
Lone Duck #Poetry
bird duck
flip dip flap
through clouds
one not flocked
by friends
merely skipping down
pond to pond
cloud to cloud
lone duck bowling pin
flappy winged fowl
out of synch, out of step
no rhythm, to be found
awkward, imbalanced
a lone waterfowl
squawk squawk
squeak squeak
duck beak chatter
flip flap hovercraft
the hunter’s mallard
bird duck bowling pin
splash crash sound-
Boom!
a cannon shot landing
webbed foot, gliding down.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Christian puta on Unsplash
#Freeverse #Poem #Mallards #Rhymes
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Locked In On Sunshine #Poetry
locked in on sunshine
forgot the day was beautiful
clamped inside like a turtle
that hides in his shell
I cast away the chance to ride
alongside the butterfly flying
and the pelican gliding low
to the shore, planing the surface
for a delectable score.
I cast aside on purpose, the beauty
of the tide, to lap up the sun
and hold it close to my tight cheek,
hopeful to rest free, the tightness
that resides between my brows and teeth,
a pointed tip of concern to get all this shit done
fragile in heat, in quicksand I run,
I retreat, I cast away the belief
of the day, that more of the sun’s begging rays
call to me, to play with promise,
without delay, stricken without purpose
like a fricken- viral virus,
waiting it out to receive the call, the call
to hither, to yonder, to run for the vaccine gun,
in quest of life lived without purpose
and fear, to get locked in on sunshine,
on a day that holds everyday in captive repeat,
I release like the butterfly from hand to free hand,
to freedom sweet freedom, oh’ to sing like the free
locked out of fear of a virus sinking down,
sinking down like the sun,
sinking down on me.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo credit- https://www.pexels.com/photo/tall-building-near-trees-1798687/
#Poetry #Freeverse #Sunshine
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Poetry For Sleepless Nights #Poetry
Again, this book continues to inspire me, over and over. I first posted this blog post back in, December 2018 and then reblogged it again in, August 2020. Today I’ve added a little poem to it, from this book, as I feel it applies to what many of us have experienced during this pandemic.
A poem by American Poet, Weldon Kees,
” If this room is our world, then let
This world be damned. Open this roof
For one last monstrous flood
To sweep away this floor, these chairs,
This bed that takes me to no sleep.
Under the black sky of our circumstance,
Mumbling of wet barometers, I stare
At citied dust that soils the glass
While thunder perishes. The heroes perish
Miles from here. Their blood runs heavy in
the grass,
Sweet, restless, clotted, sickening,
Runs to the rivers and the seas, the seas
That are the source of that devouring flood
That I await, that I must perish by. “
I’ve had many a night duking it out with my bed. Insomnia is a problem for many of us, especially creatives. Often, I turn to the ‘tried and true’ book for calming my mind and seducing me to slumber. The blue light from my iPhone keeps me awake, so I prefer to go back to basics with an old-fashioned book.
Poetry is a great choice for perusing, as our minds are most creative in the wee hours.
I have several poetry books to choose from, however, this is one of my favorites: Acquainted with The Night, Insomnia poems.
Edited by Lisa Russ Spaar and published by Columbia University Press
This is a fine collection of some sweet-little-gems, by some FANTASTIC Poets. Some of them well-known and some a bit more obscure (well, at least to mwah)
Inspired by this little book, I penned this poem in the throes of my sleepless agony one night, or shall I say one morning!
Insomnia
My heart is racing
tap, tap, tapping on the moon
this night is a bore
the quiet stillness
I abhor
forget the blinds
up in the sky, pull-
pull them down
around, around
silly night, you cannot serenade me
seducing me into your spell
I fell-
I fell into my mind
to forget to sleep in time, not mine.
Forever, ’til the end
only this silliness
to contend
around, around
forever and more
the quiet stillness
I abhor.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Here’s a list of some of the Poets who reside under the covers of this sweet little book.
- Elizabeth Bishop
- Joyce Carol Oates
- Dana Gioia
- Charles Simic
- William Shakespeare
- Umberto Saba
- King Tran Thai-Tong
- Emily Dickinson
- Robert Frost
- Walt Whitman
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Migration #Poetry
They gain speed in formation
energy propelled the cranes
in Vee shaped line and winged
frames, they seek like missiles
sinking their target, deep
battle born and bred
to flock the planes, side
by side they fly, steel girth high
gathering strength in stride
mission miles marked by wind
rain, clouds by day, Sand Hill Cranes
biplanes, gunpowder haze, steel blue
skies, blue-gray powers their flight
Vee formation, carries weight light.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Santiago Lacarta on Unsplash
#Sandhillcranes #Thegreatmigration #Poetry #Freeverse
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I Declare Head of Household
I am the product of pain and sorrow
The hurts so deep, where is my tomorrow?
I am the child who took off his suit, his childhood suit-
he took it off when he realized, he’d need to recoup
and put on the clothes, the garments, left behind
by his parents, his aunts, his uncles- and grandparents too
These oversized, baggy new suits, became his protection
no more fun, no more games, it was time to mend, to sew
to darn the socks of the broken and disengaged
You are the only one – the chosen one – to claim
to piece back this fragmented, shredded wardrobe
of family – ripped, torn, insane
Your suit, your costume was large, oversized
but you wore it well; this garment of authority
held in the swell,
of childhood fears, of childhood tears
of childhood stolen by a family that extended
a family who decided, it was time to check-out
to leave their belongings and vacate the room
they left you alone to stitch back together
the love of childhood, the comfort of play
I am the child-sized adult who became,
The head of household, the head of this state
For all the adults had ripped off their suits and hats
and took the next train; leaving you with your sisters
to pick up their mess,
to stuff the pillowcases, do the dishes
and straighten out their rageful beds,
I am the product, the prodigy
of sorrow and pain.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
#Poetry #Freeverse #Dysfunctional #Family
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A Strange Conglomerate
They’ve rounded them up-
These insurgents
They’ve planned and plotted-
A coup
They feel screwed
by an election that
was marred by fake news
An excuse used for lies
told by a president who
spews
but honestly, he knew
He knew he could exploit the few
and the many groups, already skewed
it was their moment to prove
what they believe true
A seizing of power from a deep state
that’s blue
A stolen country, a rigged election
all fits neatly into an insurrection
A strange conglomerate of conspiracy
conflections of like- minded citizens and
insurrectionists.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by little plant on Unsplash
#Poetry #Freeverse #Capitolriots #Rhymes
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I Saw You Breach The Wall
I saw you and the rest
you brought around
I carried the knowledge
and the jest laid on me
for a test, of trust
I saw you breach the wall
and expose all
of who you are – were
still unchanged,
today proven facts
In fact,
I expect never
to see the moment
of change arrive
as your silence insists
it was just in jest, in case-
why bother, you know the rest
I stand unchanged
in the face of pain
gone to the ether
and back again
I stand unchanged
from womb to age
eyes darting dark
with unsettled rage
a marriage made
an x-ray in shame
even towards heaven’s
grave,
even despite
a funeral in display
your bitter bite came,
even as the preacher
prayed,
the bitter bite came,
it came, like a stalker insane
despite that grief-stricken
awful day.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Bahram Bayat on Unsplash
#Poetry #freeverse #Grief #Trust
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Foul Story
i label the story
and stick it away
in a drawer
only to discover
the destruction
occurred precisely
as i labeled it
a foul story it was
perhaps i hid the truth
of all the impending
carnage, the logical
dead-ended fetid
rotten story-
from Love,
Love won me over that day
perhaps i hid the truth
deep inside
like a fractured foe
wanting to pretend
evermore, even though
or, perhaps i stuck
it away knowing
i would need to read
that tragic story and its
ill-fated logical conclusion
very soon, once again.
a trajectory set in print
that showed no remorse
or relent, i saw the course
of no repent, so i said
“what the hell”
and chose to forget.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash
#Poets #Freestyle #Freeverse #Story
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I Yield My Time
i yield my time
i yield my time
to the gentleman
from over there
there is no time
no more time
time has come
time is now
time has passed
it’s about time
time stands still
time is slipping
time dictates
time to act
time for motion
time can’t stand
time has been betrayed.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash
#Poetry #Time #Yield #Freeverse
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Undocumented
It’s an undocumented
love not presented
fully to my heart
shed a tear
but do not leave
I’ve only begun
to attach to the dream
of you and me
laughing in between
a dim lit room and
the bridal white beam
of a full winter’s moon
Run me forever, and ever
as lost to the wind
but, I fear not the
authority you hold
of suspending me
solidified, in
your wild-honeyed
sap, your dried out
unbridled confessions
It’s been professed
out loud, honestly
the way you left
undocumented, I’m
left a weak-kneed
fractile being
a shattered sediment
of a stone
without any proof
without any hope
to show, to prove
you even existed.
No. I fear not
my love. I fear not.
I have no documentation
to present.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Sergio Rodriguez – Portugues del Olmo on Unsplash
#Poetry #Love #Freeverse #Confessional
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Poetry Reflections 2020 #1
In the spirit of my poet friend, Robert Okaji, at O at the Edges , I am going to repost 1 of my most visited poems from 2020 everyday this week leading up to the New Year. After all, this is the time of year we spend regenerating, hibernating and reflecting; and man o’ man, did we go through a lot this past year!
Here is #1
The Gift
I give you this gift
please don’t try to
make money from it
I give you this gift
because, it is everybody’s
It is truth, it is beauty
You will see the beauty
only if you keep it
not sell it.
I give you this gift
because it’s not mine
to keep, to hide, to hold,
The truth is –
It bleeds out
It permeates
It emulsifies
I captured this beauty
momentarily
proceeding to gaze
upon its grace
purity displayed
I held it in place,
Truth is-
I give you this gift
because you are
beauty,
A gift given
placed
right here
beauty shared
not taken.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Rakicevic Nenad from Pexels
#Poetry #Universe #shortverse #freeverse
