Poetry Anthology 2023
Contents Winning poems To Ache for the Abyss The Regret of a Refugee One of us Highly Commended Your Shelter I would Call Home Beneath Foreign Skies A Wandering Traveller As Heavy as a feather Poem Longlisted entries
to ache for the abyss. stars stayed in the sky because my grandparents placed them there. (humour me, i was young) its reverent light was always brighter over their house— how else—unless they climbed up and polished them every night? i assumed they owned them, rented them out—little lighthouses like lifelines speckled across the outskirts of frothing tides of white foam. i yearned to taste molten starlight, glimmering like ambrosia. i’d stretch, reach, strain,
˚
∙
expecting
˚
˚ . ˚
th e
•
•
˚
˚
fab ri c
o f
.
∙
˚
˚. .
˚
a ll
. .
to
fe e l
s pa ce -
∙
˚
.
.
•
.
t im e
.
lik e vel v et ˚
.
ag ain s t
∙
˚ •
˚
∙.
my
fi n ge r tip s.
˚∙
•
i was taught to ignore that incessant, tugging hunger to return origin-ward —as if i was once rooted in that vast starfield then yanked out by the stem. their misguided ears no longer pause to hear its rumbling, hypnotic lullaby instead they’d sneer through clenched teeth. everyone once had that naïve craving; the urge to stick our heads above the clouds—seek refuge amongst the cosmos— but hush now. we’re older now, we’re wiser, now. we have things to do, real things to do— other than stargazing. Julia Marie
.˚
The Regret of a Refugee As my doorbell rings, I open it to another pitied face, Another ‘I hope you’re okay’ from my neighbour, The helpful role she’s trying to trace, She asks me if I know what I’m going to do now, As if my entire life is planned, All she heard was that I was a refugee, But she doesn’t care or understand, Every time I hear a drill, I worry that I’m going to get shot, And whenever I want to go out with a boy, I worry I’m going to get caught, But it’s just a pity party to her, Just something I’m expected to forget, But no help will ever be enough, Because sometimes leaving is my biggest regret, The sky doesn’t have the same light, The rain doesn’t fall like it used to, The trees grow like a different animal, The world just doesn’t feel true, My eyes used to have a flame, Now they carry the death of a fire, And my legs used to run, But now all they do is tire, How I wish my home could be another place, How I wish it wasn’t the source of all my fears, But no matter how many times I try to explain, It always falls on deaf ears. Sanika
One of us In his eyes, The fire glazed, Scars all over his face, His body grazed. As he stood there alone, A solitary man, He hoped people would take him in, But they all just turned and ran. So we took him in, Now he’s one of us, One of many, We’ve all had to adjust. And now we look, Upon a child, One that’s alone, And fed up of the wild. So we take him in as one of us. James
Your shelter I want to say that everything is going to be ok, That this feeling’s gonna go away, It isn’t here for long to stay butThings are never that easy. All I know is that at its core, Yours is a life worth fighting for, And I will always be here to hear you. I promise I won’t go anywhere. So let me be your refuge. Let me be your fortress on the darkest night, When the wind puts up its strongest fight, When your world has no more light. I’ve worn your shoes, I’ve been there too. But I am not you. I will be your spark in the pitch void outside. you can use me as a treasure chest to hold your pain and plight. I will be your shelter, I will be your safety, I will hold you as your grief runs plenty. I haven’t got the words to fix this, There’s nothing I can say to change this, But I would carve your pain into my heart and hold it there for you, If that is what it took for you to breathe another breath. I will build up bricks of my own flesh to hold you from the storm, Be it rain or wind or snow or sleet I promise to keep you warm. I will be your roof, your last four walls, your crumbling floor boards, Though I’m not sure that the key I have will fit in all the doors. In all the fog and vapid smoke I’ll be there to hold your hand. I’ll be the sign post in the Nowhere, Though I can’t point just one way. So even though this feeling won’t, I hope that you will stay. August
I would call home I would call home, A place of calm, Where the summer skies are blue, With lakes of clear azure, And birds chirping a sweet song. I would call home, A land with fresh water, Baskets after baskets of food, Under the pure glassy moon, On soft green pasture. I would call home, A bed with warm quilts, A stack of clean clothes, And a closet with more of those, Where my mother can tuck me in. But... My home, Is no place of calm, The skies are dusty with soot, The lakes are poisoned, And smell like a stinky foot. My home, Has no pure water, Only one basket of food, For a whole monsoon, Where my many siblings might starve to death. My home, Has no beds, Has no clean clothes, We only dream about closets, with more of those. My home, Is no wonderful home, Because me and my family, Are nowhere near safe, What I call home, Is somewhere that I might never go, Somewhere far... Far... Far... Far… Zeshraa
Beneath Foreign Skies In distant lands, a refuge sought, A place where safety can’t be bought. Embracing change, a hopeful flight, To foreign shores, a different light. But what is home? where love resides? In foreign soil, or on distant tides? Is it the place, the walls, the space, Or bonds that time can’t erase? Familiar rooms, a haven true, Where memories bloom, like morning dew. Comfort in every corner, safe and sure, A place to discover, to make my own. Yet, longing whispers through the night, For family’s warmth, for friends in sight. A heart divided, torn in two. In search of solace, old and new. For here, a life of promise gleams, In foreign lands, ambitious dreams. But there, the roots run deep and strong, Where history’s echoes still belong. Is home a place, or something more? A feeling deep at our heart’s core. A refuge sought in distant roam, But is there truly a place called home? In longing’s grasp, we contemplate, The dual worlds we navigate. A refuge here, a heartland there, Do we belong anywhere? So, as we wander, torn and free, In search of where our souls should be, We ask, as wanderers on our own, Is any place truly home? Is home a space, or something more, A feeling deep in our heart’s core. A refuge sought, as we journey on, But does a true home ever dawn?
A Wandering Traveller A wandering traveller walked alone, Dark, desolate ivy, overgrown. He looked for rest, while circling around, He hadn’t had a sip of water since he left his town. A boundless labyrinth, in shape of a gloomy forest With a deep sigh, he took the path darkest. To his surprise, a green meadow emerged, His tiredness halted, his hope spurred, Flamboyant flowers abloom, pink, purple, and red, A fairy tale garden, untouched and unread, But amidst of all, like warm, comforting pottage, The final flourish was a little wooden cottage. The wandering traveller tread gently inside, The door creaked open, inviting to site, Dainty antique trinkets, flowery wallpaper, The house exuded a nostalgic flavour. A living room stood amongst it all, A small wooden table, with three items fallen to a sprawl. He picked up a mirror, cracked and dingy. Instead of his eyes peering back at him dimly, He saw his shattered dreams, the life he could have lived, The memories he could have had, all to be trimmed. The trip to Venice, planned intricately with anticipation, Now brings upon only heartache and hesitation. The following object, a withering, dried rose. The reminiscence in his brain, he wanted to repose, Rushed back like a torrent, as swift as winter chill, The brownish red, a love that had once been the sweetest pill. The laughter, the joy, the beauty of life, Taken away, now only feel like a jab of a knife. The last of the objects, a mug of coffee. He took a sip, cupped in his hands like a trophy. As if seeking solace, which he quickly received, Bittersweet yet warm, a comfort conceived. The warmth of her smile, where he had found sanctuary, Now lingered in his heart, like summer’s sweet berry. The wandering traveller left, tears brimming in his eyes, The sweep of emotions for long he had to disguise. His heart felt lighter, his mouth shaped into a smile, He knew he wouldn’t be back for a while. He returned to his town, safe and sound, Knowing his refuge had been found. Ahana
As heavy as a feather Shouts and cries, All around, Shattered eyes All the more LOOK UP and see a mess LOOK DOWN There isThere is a floor, Crimson red, A floor! I pick up the Pieces, The pieces of My family The glass
WhyWhy is it so easy? LOOK IN Prickled thorns Intertwined with the Strings The strings of myOf myFAMILY Heart STEP OUT The Crimson red IsIs gone?
SHATTERS
These *****
Crimson red,
Take away-
On my-
Take away-
On my fingers
Take away the crimson red
What did I do?
That is just
This anguish
As heavy as a feather.
To deserve Crimson red Why? Everywhere I look. OUT, Out the window Why are they smiling?
Sophie
Poem Theme; Friends are a great delight in life and shouldn’t be taken for granted. They can help in life, but over-reliance should be recanted. As your life must not be dictated by others, although we may think of them as brothers. In life’s vast ocean, waves of friendships crest, Yet deep within, a refuge, we confess. Like ships that sail from lands of strife and flight, We find our haven midst the darkest night. Our friends, like stars, may guide us on the way, Yet in our refuge, strength and will hold sway. They’re like the wind that carries hopes apace, But in our refuge, we determine our pace. In friendships’ garden, where acceptance grows, Life’s refuge, where the wounded heart bestows. Like petals falling, friendships may decay, But fear not, as new foliage blooms, Spring, in May. For life’s a canvas, where we paint our dreams, A symphony, where refuge softly streams. We are the artists, shaping every hue, In the vast refuge, where our dreams come true. The pen, a sword, a double-edged delight, Inscribe our refuge in the darkest night. With metaphors, we find our voices strong, In poetry of refuge, where we belong. So, take the reins, be captain of your soul, Navigate through life, let refuge console. Though friends may guide, like lighthouses in the fog, In our solitary refuge, we find our strength to brave the bog. In the grand tapestry that’s woven true, We seek our refuge, me and dear friend, you. We navigate through life’s intricate maze, Finding refuge in a friend’s steady gaze. Yet, remember this as you set your quest, You steer the ship, for you alone know best. Wolf
‘Refuge’ On a solitary voyage to a land unknown. And I, a withered rose My petals scattered like the soundless screams of a forgotten soul. A grief, no voice can speak A heart, no love may warm I sought refuge by your side A distant home, where mountains stood tall, Where verdant peaks cradled a rustic charm, And whispers of the past through echoes called, I sought refuge in it all I sought refuge in your eyes Twin flames entwined left no place for despair, In every touch, I felt the warmth of tender care, With every whispered word of love that filled the air, I sought refuge with you there I sought refuge through your words Each ink-stained sonnet, A careful dance coreographed in the language of the unsaid, The soul’s whispers woven in each stanza, the heart’s twin truth songs, I found refuge in these words, I found where I belong. Within the chambers of a lover’s gaze, Or through the verses of a poet’s phrase, Our refuge resides like a chameleon’s art, In countless guises, hiding in each heart. And as the threads converge, my vision cleared, In refuge’s name, I found what’s dear. Salah
My Refuge The place I holed myself up While eating tons of snacks And my mother screams in Ebira “Come back, come back!’’ Home. A place I lived as a child Even though I’m still one The place where my father hoped We’d all be for long. Home. My mother hits me with a belt As I run screaming and holding my hand. Now 6 months have gone. Since I was there. I miss it now. And now I’m here A foreign land A giant change i struggle To understand. I used to be good. I used to be smart. Back there Home. But maybe I can make one Start one anew New memories, new friends, I’ll add that too. So as I write this on my bed, Chewing gum and candy My home is now here, Even if I don’t want it. So, home. Omeiza
Refuge
Of their ballads, of the deep sea?
The water is thick
Did I ever tell you how your grandmother,
Deep hues of blue and grey
My wife?
Promise dangers in its fathoms
How we met?
The boat is still
No?
Only rocking gently here and there
Well Alma, you are old enough to know
Over the waves
My wife never came from our village
As they ripple
Instead, a fisherman found her, caught up in his net
A child speaks up
She couldn’t remember anything
Tattered scarves and muddy sandals
The instant she arrived, the whole village cursed her
Woven from the reeds of our monster home
They called her a man-eater
“Mamma, I’m scared”
Who lured the sailors with her song
A women in faded scarves hushes him
Only to drown and devour them later
The silence is back again
They certainly treated her as such
Colossal, feeding on our fear
It was then that I met her
Suddenly, it stops
I was younger then, much younger than I am now
A song enthrals
My father was proud of our family
It charms us, pulls us in deeper
Purebreds, he called us
As the whales sing
Witches were frightened when they entered our house
I spot a school of fish
For when they gazed upon a purebred, he said,
Colourful and mystical
The holiness was to much for their evil sin
“Tell us a story, Baba”
And they incinerated upon the spot
This time it is I who speak
Did you ever wonder how I lost my two fingers?
Pleading my grandfather to spin us a story to escape
Well, Alma, let me tell you
the infernal
For this story weaves in with that one
Of silver and gold
Like the threads of the tapestry at home
To escape the infernal
My father was a traveller
“Alright, Alma”
He lived on a diet of fish and clams
He sighs
Once my father deemed me old enough
“I’ll tell you a story”
He took me on a voyage
This time, everyone’s ears listen
It was marvellous!
Almost positioned up like an alert dog
Absolutely marvellous
“Once upon a time”
Until the storm started brewing
He begins
Innocently did it start,
Do you see the stars, Alma?
While I was twining my fingers in the net
These are your ancestors Every single one of them since the dawn of time But I can tell you, Alma It was not always like this. Look at the water beneath you I told you of the Sirens, right?
Good. You know about them
A wave roared, And thrust me off the boat Too far for my father to catch me ever I don’t remember much after that Only a heavy pressure on my chest The consistent feeling of fear
And the singing.
Your mother in my hands
The singing enchanted me, riveted me,
I stared at the sea with disbelief
A part of me warned me not to listen
The wave rises up,
I ignored it
And washes a new tide
And let myself go
I notice among the kelp brought by it
I was told that I washed up on the shore
Something
Unconscious and nearly dead
Two fingers, the skeleton was all that was left of them
My father rushed for help
Some rotting meat was left of them
But he thought it too late for me
As if someone had gnawed on them continuously
He was incorrect
Intertwined in them was a scale
About the time I healed
Tear-drop shaped
The Siren girl first appeared
Colours flashing in them
I was curious,
Teal and Turquoise
I decided against my father’s wishes
Crimson and Carmine
To meet her
It is then that I noticed
There she told me that she found me, and cured me
A figure
I believed her without second thought
In the distance
These secret meetings continued for three years
Swimming in the ocean
Until grave news of my father being ill occurred
A Siren.
I found my father at his deathbed Coughing blood In his crimson soaked sheets With his dying breath, He gasped to me To continue the family’s legacy I left the room shaken A new man I disregarded his words with hatred I proposed to your grandmother instantly She agreed, and we were married Happy! Finally happy! Only but a half year later, Did we learn about the child The baby Arriving at our gleeful idyll Now, Alma, concentrate here Listen closely I did not hear much Only a soft thumping and slithering Softly with the sea I did not see much, only fear, surprise as I saw her disappear
“Whoa!” A man shouts as a wave topples our boat “Land ahead!” Could this be it? Refugefinallymaybepleaseletitbesafe? The child screams The same one who wore the sandals from our village That was so cruel then and now again “Mamma, don’t!” His mother hushes her child once again She rows the water With her bare hands Blue and frostbitten I stare at her Admire her will To fight, to survive “Mamma, but what if there sharks in the water!” The child wails The mother leaves the paddling and rocks her child Back and forth Saying that it will be all right She sings soft lullabies to her child I look at it jealously
My mother never cared for me, Instead she stared at the water endlessly Until she fell into it to end her vexing Same as I stare to the water It calls to me It tells me to return to my rightful place I paddle instead of the mother The freezing water soothing On my worried hands I am safe I am a siren Back among my home Where the whales sing And the coral grows I feast upon the mortals My black void of eyes Merciless for their foolish plight Omeiza
Refugee poem During the night You hear the soldiers fight, As you plan an escape Of a familiar landscape Refugees on a train While hearing the clicking of rain, Escaping their war torn city While no one shows them pity In a foreign land You now stand, Away from all you know In a rented bungalow You might not go back To your distant abode, As in your country they still attack And bombs still explode. Mark
Hope The rumbling starts from the other side earth and soon reaches our town Faraway bombing may not scare but they just say calm down We may be living in a bubble Trying not to get into trouble Few weeks’ time and there I go A refugee camp ...I know Weeks and weeks go by and then months and soon years But there are still little fears Will our lives just be like this? Constant state and insecurity May we have a little security Many say there past lives was just like ours But we still don’t have many powers Hoping we’ll come back up like flowers Soon... Nagasai
I work all day I don’t get paid I feel as if I disintegrate From room to room The darkness looms But the minute I’m home I know I’m not alone For I have own clone In my head I can see a world for me My head is a refuge And yes, you can do it to To escape from this queue That is our end But also our friend Refuge in the head I can pretend. Sophie
War A time when war was alive When blood was shed People died of no refuge No place to seek No wings to hide under Alas it is real in times of the past In times of the present In times of today You might wonder what I speak It is the one major reason people die Yes alas it is war I speak of Why can’t we live in a world of peace A world of hope A world of harmony A world of beauty If not for war we would not need refuge But yet we do What is the purpose of war Power And why do people need power I do not know But what I do is It need to stop How By stop making power hungry people In charge Change to democracy So with all that said I go to the refuge To the refuge of the unknown Oyindamola
Asylum Ghazal Throughout the world we all seek asylum, one that welcomes we. Throughout the world we all seek asylum, a place where all free. From sandy deserts to lush forest, from open plains to prison cell. From small black ants to humans, are all prisoners as well? Do all seek protection? A sanctuary, hidden from them all? Does one seek refuge behind a single, plain yet solid wall? Or do they run from the madness or do they sail overseas, Do they prevail or do they fail, and end up on their knees? Do they stand up to the peril or simply sit aside and wait? Might they run away or cower behind a wall? Do they try and make a difference or wait for their downfall, Whether they flee or they stay, or their hope begins to flay, There’s no doubt about it each and every one of us is engulfed, In a sense of vicious, lethal chaos destroying the world around us. It’s the blood-curdling, laughter-killing madness that we face every day, That shapes the world around us and guides us through the haze. So whether rich or poor, black or white might we all wage the same fight We all wish for sanctuary, a safe space we can roam without a care. Whether tall or short, bald or with hair, We all fight for the same right, A place that we call home. Mahmoud