I’m a poet
and this silent mind
is like nature
that attracts my window.
And I sit on the windowpane
to write, but poor!
The lawn turns brown
with people from
left and right houses.
They talk not about-
the songs of birds,
but the dog that limps.
And I lament.
Fathima Sanna
Mom, I’m tired
of siding sun
and riding wind
and hiding evil.
Mom, I’m tired
and weird.
Mom, I’m tired,
that the world is weird.
Fathima Sanna
Isn’t it amazing
to see your twin planet?
Aren’t you lucky
to find your twin planet?
O’ from the miraculously,
calamitously,
beauteously
expanding universe.
Isn’t it amazing
to see your twin planet?
Aren’t you lucky
to find your twin planet?
Tonight we can sink
into the galaxies to sing
thank yous
for letting us to the way
to meet,
and we can pray
not to be sleet
by you losing my warmth
and me losing your warmth.
Fathima Sanna
They heard about the novels-
of women like men
and fall into –
the university of intensity
to close the nose of books
of their younger ones
for oppressed ones.
Fathima Sanna
Reminder pops up
at the eighteenth candle
to play with creams
and laser
and weighing scale
to extract a new art
within me
to attract whoever is
willing –
to subtract the beauty
in me.
I shout at to shoo,
to play with books
and blazer
and currency,
and they yell
that they have been
in ouch.
Fathima Sanna
I dig the history of my blood,
and I see a teen with half head
and a hand.
A man rises
in search of house,
and she hides and hides
into the corner.
Mamma pushes her,
and granny with a kitchen knife
over herself.
The poor silence
is trapped in the midst.
Fathima Sanna
Gentle breeze.
Lullabying drizzle.
Everything looks fine,
and I’m fine.
Unkind wind.
Crushing downpour.
Everything looks…,
but I’m fine.
I’m fine.
Fathima Sanna
