The Forgotten People NEW
My face is crumpled,
The depth of the lines
Clear to witness.
I'm only 35, but feel 75.
My forehead buckles
Under the strain of repression.
My story?
I saw loved ones taken violently away,
I heard multitudes of screams,
Our land darkened by the poison
Of conflict and retribution.
The nightmares don't stop.
I wake mid-tempest with
Chills and cold sweats.
The vibrant era
I was once part of
Now vanishes with
Distant cries of kindred spirits
Slipping away.
I can hear my own screams,
As I'm confined to the
Fringes of a life totally unfulfilled.
I want to crumble,
Something wills me not to.
What that is I'm unsure.
My hair recedes,
A stark reminder
Of what I have lost.
I had a family, a decent job,
A rich and full life, a life
I long to regain.
I'm one of the forgotten people.
I now lie awake, consumed with guilt,
Wondering if I could've done more.
I feel I could.
Perhaps I should've stood tall
When the dealers arrived,
Unwilling to falter.
My son could've been rescued,
His addiction halted.
He was only 10 years old.
I long to avenge his passing.
One day, I will.
My wife beaten to death
For being brave.
I crave her strength every day.
My older brother,
The light in my darkened life,
Also a casualty.
I still hear the electricity
Surging through his brain
As it rapidly fries.
What of me? I now stare
Into a void of destitution.
Can I ever get back
To how I used to be?
The rain has come,
Too late for any salvation.
The clatter of each drop
On my window
Louder with each moment.
When will the shit ever stop?
I don't know.
I'm one of the forgotten people.
Who will hear me now.
(c) NZ 2009.
Comments
Old English 'Elegies'
wonder if you've ever read any of the old english 'elegies', kind of a loose term and a bit unhelpful, but the sentiment in several of the poems i think would not be unfamiliar to you.
they all online, probably 'the wanderer' and 'the seafarer' of most interest to you. both at www.anglo-saxons.net, in translation (note though not a particularly good translation and doesn't preserve line length, instead breaks the lines in two, i.e. two lines should be read as one; that said doesn't cost you anything)
on a different note saves googling and the associated rather large carbon footprint every time you do a google search. apparently a typical search generates about 7 grams of carbon dioxide, i.e. 2 searches comparable to boiling a kettle. don't sound like much but google handles about 200 million searches a day.
ok, digression aside, old english verse contains a lot of gnomic and wisdom literature, which again i think you would be sympathetic to. repays the reading because asks questions of the modern reader that are difficult to answer, i.e. makes you think. as a sideline you'll get a better understanding of ted hughes, but i don't suggest for what you want to do that you become influenced by his work. gnomic tradition and wisdom literature still very much alive in urdu and arabic poetry so instructive to compare.
anyways, i'm waffling. innabit.
The Forgotten People
Some good advice there Martin - I hadn't thought of that! Apols for not getting back to you earlier on this - not blogged for a while - it was just something which really stirred me, you know?
I do quite like posing important questions, you have a point there. Trouble is, nowadays people aren't so sympathetic to them but I personally feel they are still important questions to be asked.
N
Dark disturbing piece for
Dark disturbing piece for you Nad the exhibition must have had a profound effect. i presume your going through an experimental stage with your writing? :)
The Forgotten People
Yes I am going through an experimental phase with my work. It's because I want to now focus on imagery and let the reader do the thinking rather than have me dictate what they should think.
Cheers for that, I appreciate it. Apologies for really late reply, not blogged much recently but looking to get back into it again.
Regards,
N :-)
O City of Lights
Im just reading a set of poems by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Could you rewrite your poem here in that style??
O City of Lights
Could do - do you have a spare copy of the collection which I can then have a look at (subject to payment of course) and remodel it in that vein?
Coming to novelists' group tonite so if I can speak to you about it before it starts or after the workshop ends tonite then that would be good.
Nadeem
The Forgotten People NEW
This poem is again the product of a visit to the "Butterflies in Rain" exhibition which I visited for a second time on 23 May 2009. It was centred around a portrait of a young man who looked to be only in his mid-30s but all hope seemed to have drained away from his face. The paintings in the exhibition were also, in part, inspired by the Kosovo conflict so I drew inspiration from that too in writing this.
I hope you like it!
N