All Of Us Pagans Cry

I am seeking, again

The restlessness shimmers

under my skin

I walk in the sun, reflective

Look at my hands- they darken

As the heat of realization

effectively

Beats every frivolity out of me

Burnt tongues and

singed fingertips

And the bare, bleached bones

Floating in the meandering Styx

-This is my day

Thus I answer my own question,

Why I seek refuge in the

Nothingnesses, the recesses of night

By dawn, I am unsettled again

The thought wanders stray,

into a vein

These tattooed bands of

radiance in the sunlight

sift

Reality drifts –

The heat hazes

My lips twitch

I shy from coherence

Consummation fades

A lone raindrop falls from the sky

Oh, all of us pagans cry

All of Us Pagans Cry

©️ Yusra

02.03.2018

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Day 25- A Thousand Years Of Potatoes 

Day 25! For the prompt ‘the night you offered me your wing’, and a double prompt- potato time!- A Thousand Years Of Potatoes! 

I don’t know how, but every NaPoWriMo for the past four years, I’ve done at least one Potato poem. It’s a spudtastic coincidence!

Day 20- Ashes In My Veins 


Bit of a happy coincidence today. It’s 4/20, plus the poem I started in my head, synced up nicely with the prompt for today, ‘ashes in my veins’, and the 4/20 mentions. 
And another post for Messages off a cigarette. It’s been a while. 🙂
Hugs and muffins, 

Yusra ❤️pp
Keep it 

Day 19- Home Is Where… 

Home Is Where 

I didn’t know much about the world

Or myself, for that matter 

I took gratefully, what I was given 

I didn’t know anything better 

even existed, for people like me

Who are damaged so thoroughly 

That we stand in front of mirrors 

And dissect our entirety

No one taught me strength 

I doubt I could’ve discerned  

I drifted aimlessly, accepting 

Scraps for the blessings they weren’t 

When debasement is a norm, and

indifference the only recompense 

The heart grows silently sicker 

Without respect for its defense 

I hadn’t known that I deserved 

More, that what i was shown

I thought love belonged in parked cars 

But you

-you took me home. 

It’s strange, how big the world is

When you don’t feel small anymore 

Maybe, I can build my shelter, now 

That you’ve already opened the door 

©Yusra 

19.04.2017 

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 ❤️