Poems Written at Bedtime

Poems Written at Bedtime

Maha A.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

DRAFT FOUR

NOVEMBER

What you are about to read is a collection of

poetry Ive written before bed. I never share
my poetry, so Im very surprised that youre
reading this. Im not sure why I agreed to
share.. Youre either very important, or Ive
become a little more open. Either way, I
apologise for the disturbing poetry (poem 7,
8). Dont worry, Im doing okay at the date
of writing this little thing here. Im happy to
talk about any of the poems Ive written. If I
went as far as to share this, I might as well
get some feedback, right?

Enjoy your read,

Maha

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

1. Mamas Lullaby
________________________

Night after night,

my blanket grows short
night after night,
I sing

a lullaby,
as soft as my mother
my pillow,
as warm as her chest

Ive grown too heavy,

her bones too old
and It wont be far
before I sing,

her lullaby
to her.

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2. Falling for Strangers

________________________

Whats your name?

is the only question
I answer all the same

for each stranger,

a different taste
of me

customise me
shape me into something
mold me like Im a piece of clay
I only hope to fit into your palms
if only momentarily

It is comforting
to fit a strangers palm
understand its intricate lines
and realise that if fate strikes
you will be ready.

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3. Exotified
________________________

Darkness,
in and out your eyes
and flows down your back
It covers you,
head to toe
and conceals an object of desire

Surprisingly,
you answer back
In my common tongue
For a second,
I see myself in you
For a second,
you are not an other.

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4. Us
________________________

Were as harsh
as the desert
where pure water
is rare
and the thirsty
are guaranteed

death

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5. An Evening With Peppa Pig

________________________

I felt the life in his heart,

tiny
and beating

It carries me
his mother
and her mother

his cheek
squished on my chest
and his hands
tightly gripping my cotton pajamas
made me feel
there.

this warmth I felt

like never before
was the warmth
I gave.

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7. episode, late night, alone

________________________

I had big plans for tonight,

but all I ever have are plans
smart plans
fun plans
no plans

foiled plans
of course
they are

and i am
angry
so angry that
i

sorry, never
mind
(why am i
like this)

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8. I have a roommate
________________________

and shes a mess

theres clutter everywhere

she sometimes leaves the room

with me

and I feel uncomfortable

she never lets me sleep

but invites me to sleep in all

morning

the look of her disgusts me

but Im growing fond of her

shes at home

and her image

speaks of home to me.

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9. The Profane
________________________

The man in the suit

follows
as the monks descend the mountain
they have faithfully traced with their feet
for so long,
they never counted.

The man in the suit observes

he asks, and he writes
O, he will forever be
the man in the suit.

He cant take this suit off,

for he was born with it.
And perhaps, in a few,
hell be a stranger to all but his own observations.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

10. 1/2 a Tab for Four Days

________________________

i think celexa took out the depression,

but forgot to put the happiness in
because god,
i feel so hollow.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

12. Listen to My Voice

________________________

I cry out
but my cries echo, echo, echo
repeating again and again
surrounding the room,
and locking
the door.

my voice cracks,
and my cries
slip
and
fall
between the gaps

(within me)
the room,
the cracks
and the cries are
within me
and they shall stay within

sometimes, I
whisper out
and Id think:
perhaps..
someone will listen.

but then,
I cry out
and my cries echo, echo, echo
repeating, again and again
surrounding the room
and locking
the door.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

13. Listen to His Voice

________________________

Tell me I'm safe

Tell me you're here
Tell me, please
I beg, tell me

Tell me what to do
I'm listening, tell me
Fill the room
Fill my head
Fill my my lungs

Tell me
I'm not alone
You're not a voice in my head
Tell me you're here
Tell me, I listen

Tell me,
Should I breathe in?
Tell me, I beg
Mercy, please tell me

Wrap your arms around my neck

And tell me
Talk, I listen
I need to hear something

Hey, tell me
I'm dizzy
There's two of you, so say something
I don't want to faint on the bathroom floor
I'm fucked up, aren't I
Attention seeking little bitch
Aren't I?
Tell me
Stop snoring and talk
Say that and tell me
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 Poems Written at Bedtime

14. Wouldnt you like to be this way?

________________________

I don't do good; I don't deserve

good
I accept it
I take my disgust in my hand
and I look at it
I stare at myself;
I am every feeling of hatred
I am resentment
I resent myself
No yin, no yang
I am unchanging

This, again, as always

Me, again

I bathe in my disgust and I wear it around my neck

I let it sink it's teeth unto my flesh

I'm on a train
I don't mind flying out the window
I don't mind arriving safe
I'm too much of myself to care

I must swallow the key and keep it safe in my stomach where no one
can find it ever again,
not even I

(I've internalized it
It's all mine now
If you cut me up you'll find it feeding on my flesh
I raise it and I feed it now
Its mine now
I feel it, and I hear it run around my head.)

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

.
________________________

..
.

..

.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

16. theres an alien in the room

________________________

theres an alien in the room.

it sits there in the dark sometimes.

i can hear it call for its hometown once in a while.

at 3 am, it makes weird noises in the bathroom.

it can be hard for us to communicate.

i think the alien likes me.

maybe the alien just wants to like something.

poor alien cant find home.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

17. im a jealous person

________________________

i was raised to not look at others in jealousy

they told me that people have the things they have
and that the only person i should compare myself to is myself

when i was 6, my grandmother bought my cousin a dress

it was white and fluffy. she looked like a princess
my older cousins did her make up while i watched in the corner
i had to settle for what my grandmother bought for me:
a dark brown traditional dress with a hijab.

i walked out to the kitchen, after trying to contain my jealousy

and there was my cousin, crying on the grand, dark green staircase
next to the kitchen,
mascara running down her cheek.
at first, i was almost happy about it
but i hated the idea of being happy about it. it would make me.. evil
she didnt do anything to me! I was just jealous, and i shouldnt be
i wondered why she was crying
if i had a white puffy dress, i wouldnt cry!
i wonder how she would feel if she had my dress?
would she complain rather than saying thank you?
i bet she would complain. shes a lot more assertive
oh no, I'm comparing myself to her again.
i went into the kitchen and ate a cream cheese sandwich.

one time, a person i met on the internet asked what my hobbies were
i said.. writing?
he said he liked hiking, calligraphy and playing music
he sent me pictures of his hike, a campfire by the beach
he kept asking me to talk about myself but i was at a loss of what to
say, i had nothing interesting to offer
the most fun ive had that month was go to the mall
i told him i liked gardening but i was lying ( i just water my moms
plants)
i wondered how a free person like him is so bored as to talk to me
i blocked him a while later because he was getting annoying
or maybe because i was just reminded me of how jealous i am
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 Poems Written at Bedtime

eventually, i gained a lot more freedom than i expected; i moved to

america for school.
during my first year i lived with an american roommate
she doesnt have a perfect life, i know
she had problems ive never experienced
she told me about how she ended her past relationship, in an attempt
to bond with me, or just because she wanted to share and its a normal
thing to talk about
i didnt know what to say, ive never been in one
she would sometimes show me people she connected with on tinder
and i would try to give input but I'm so inexperienced
no, ive never been in a relationship and i cant be in one
i wont go on a date, thats like asking for a taste of something that
ill never truly acquire
its painful knowing that. I hate that she reminds me of it whenever
she talks about things that are completely normal to almost everyone.
im so jealous that she has relationships to look forward to
that she doesnt need to daily remind herself that shell have to deal
with loneliness for the rest of her life.

i have the things i have. things are what they are. my life is what it is.
thats what i try to tell myself, but that is horrific. it doesnt help.
id try to only compare myself to myself,
but nothing about myself really changes.
its me and me again.
im sick of myself. i feel lonely. at least when im jealous theres
someone else on the other end.
then ill be jealous!
im a jealous person, aren't i?!

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

18.1.1 the three ages of woman: age one and two

________________________

me and my mother
and me and my child.
to be held,
and to hold.

I traced the redness of their cheeks with my eyes:

to be warm,
to give warmth.
to feel your mothers breath
softly caress your forehead
putting your thoughts to sleep
to feel your childs grip
as it gets loose
as she slips into sleep,
while you hold her in your tired arms
theyre numb, and her neck is wet
but its alright.

I traced them,
and I saw myself in them.
I thought that was all there is to the painting,
and it made me smile.

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 Poems Written at Bedtime

18.2.1 the five stages of grief: shock and denial

________________________

I was gonna go through it, like everyone else

someones mother will find me beautiful
get flowers for a month, jewels for another
dress up, spend money, look pretty, pretend to be nice on the phone
blush a lot, cry on my wedding night
go on a fancy honeymoon; want to go home
call my mother, complain about my husband
regret it sometimes, get pregnant, have a child
it was all fine
it was how it was and I never questioned it

Someone called my mother once

I was flattered, and I laughed about it with my family
too bad. He was a doctor and probably rich!

I went to my room, and I remembered my sisters engagement

I was so jealous then. But I was young, and stupid
Im old enough to be in my sisters place, I realised.
I turned my pillow to the dry side, and went to sleep.
the next day, I found out that someone called my friends mom, and
my friend cried too.
I realised that I was tired of all the crying, and crying, and crying. I
cry, she cries, my sister cried..
never mind.

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18.2.2 the five stages of grief: anger

________________________

my sister has two kids. I love them so much. I think I simply enjoy
being nurturing, its human nature, right? Im a female after all.
the older one is very kind. too kind for the world. he hates it when
I'm sad and he always tells me that he loves me.
her husband hit him one.

how dare he.

why did she marry such a man?

oh.
oh.
oh.

I see, im enough to be in my sisters place.

I promised myself not to be.

oh no, oh no.
oh no.

I cannot simply refuse.

oh no, I might have to.
oh no, Im sorry mama,
she always says that shell buy me the most beautiful wedding dress
ever.
oh no.

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18.1.2 the three ages of woman: age three

________________________

there I stand,
grieving.

I cant look.

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