Blood Music 

I knew a man with laughing eyes 

Who thought the world could sing 

And in keeping with his philosophy 

He did everything 

He could, to make even the mute cry 

The seeing would go blind, not to see 

The songs people sang to for him 

Scarred their voices permanently

I knew that man with laughing eyes 

Too well, oh 

Too well 

And if only I could sing again 

Oh, the tales I would tell

But I left him, to his bone music 

Not far but far enough behind 

And ran into another man, headlong 

Who’d been waiting for me some time 

And he didn’t mind, my grave like eyes 

And the blood music in my head 

He’d learnt from a girl with laughing eyes 

That it’s better to have ones that are dead 

Now this man with dead eyes holds my hand 

And my lifeless ones sparkle too 

And it doesn’t matter, that we don’t sing out loud 

Because we have hearts that do 

© yusra 

18.06.2017 

Women Like Me 

Women like me,

Make men realize 

That their dreams don’t belong 

Only in their eyes 

That their shoulders are broad enough

For the weight of the world 

And the reduction of all their principle 

Lies in just their word 

That the sky is theirs 

And all this earth 

We make men keenly aware 

Of every inch of their self worth 

We are not statues, but pillars 

We are not decoration

We are not conquest, but glory 

We require dedication 

And we pay you back in blood 

In all of our love 

Women like me are made from your rib

But we hold your spine up. 
And if you can’t appreciate a woman

Who could wither your universe to bits 

If you insist on looking at greatness 

And lingering on the span of its tits 

Then I have already moved past you 

It’s not worth my time, you won’t see 

That I want you on your knees, and 

I’ll nurture you on mine, simultaneously

if you really deserved

A woman like me 
©Yusra

05.06.2017 

Silent acquiescence? I think not, darling…. ❤️

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 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. 

Day Twelve- By Heart 

Relearning Happiness 

It was like learning how to pray 

How folded hands and murmured words

Led to understanding the truth 

Hidden behind empty gestures 

That God was not the property of 

Apoplectic corpulents

It was like recognizing injury 

Palpating for wounded feelings, verbally 

Cautiously probing what prodded 

People to lash out, unreserved 

That I was not to blame, it 

Was not deserved 

It was every instance of healing 

Every time I consciously, heathenly withdrew 

Every time I groped for an answer 

Smiling at what I knew was untrue 

With the short term memory 

of the broken and the uneasy 

the flawed and the restless

the faceless unnamed  

the damaged and the lamed, 

It comes as a taste of the glorious 

a recognition of your own holiness 

Like a mouthful of sunshine, every time

That you relearn happiness 

©Yusra 

12.04.2017