Electro-Cursive Therapy 





Electro-Cursive Therapy 

There used to be a beat, 

at the back of my head

A song that went somewhat awry 

And the words that used to dance 

At the whim of my demands 

Decided that they needed to fly 

So a-one a-vowel went up, 

A few inches ascent  

The other three slipped a verse or two 

And I told myself no, 

It’s internal, not infernal 

And well, poems don’t have to 

Always rhyme, you’re just learning

Your style’s still disconcerting

so what if the endings don’t match 

And fist meets pissed just fine 

No serious writer minds 

A sonnet that’s slipped off the tracks.

Well, now,

screw that. 

The problem with prose is 

It’s more ‘lose’ that rose, it’s 

Pretty, but just so wafer thin 

And I miss poetry 

The kind that sustained me 

Verses deep enough to drown in 

Of balls and ballads, I 

Cannot more defy, my

Visceral need to straighten, organize 

These six line limericks, these 

Odes epileptic 

Today, this rebellion dies! 

So please do forgive me 

if my renaissance is clumsy

My syllables are a little slow to revive 

 

But I’m treating this first 

This arrhythmia of my words 

Because- how else is a poet to stay alive? 

©yusra 

24.08.2017 

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Aw Ashes of the Other Kind. 

Don’t think I’ve turned my wordpress into an Instagram outpost. 🙂
A lot of behind the scenes writing is happening. You’ve stayed with me for so many years, through so many stories. Hold on to me just a little longer. 
Dreams are in the works. ❤️ 

My love to every one who clicked here and stopped by,

Yusra❤️❤️

Day 28- Tell Me How


Day 28 of NaPoWriMo! For the prompt ‘tell me how to heal’. 
Bit of a dark turn, I know. I think it just hit a vein. 
And, well, when my personal dictator has been home since a week, it is a bit hard to focus on the good, too. 
Any hoodies, tomorrow I shall Endeavour to pick right up again. Wishing y’all a great weekend! 

Cuddles and mufflers, 

Yusra 

Day Fifteen- The Man Who Was Poetry 

Day Fifteen- and big news! My first book is finally close to completion. Stay tuned for updates on The Man Who Was Poetry.🙂 
And I need lots of advice from those of you who have published already. Tips and suggestions are most welcome! 

Love, 

Your Yusra Cookie ❤️

Day Thirteen- The Game of No True Names 


It’s starts a day before 

I say I can’t in the morning

You say you won’t in the afternoon

-We both can 

I tell you I’m home 

When the sidewalk 

Is where I am

You tell me you’re waiting 

When you’re already gone

I pretend to be forlorn

Five years from today

Is decided by a tomorrow 

The rest of our lives, 

Like the day after 

You call me slut 

And I call you chutiya

And we pretend there wasn’t a bite

To those words 

Some days we play well

Some days we don’t go home 

Quite the same 

I wonder how long we’ll walk away unscathed 

Back and forth in this game

Where we change all the names 

©Yusra 

13.04.2017 

Day Thirteen- for the prompt by the exceptional J.R. Rogue- the game in which we change the names.