“And now for today’s (optional) prompt, inspired by Teicher’s poem “Son“. One thing you might notice about this poem is that it is sad, but that it doesn’t generate feeling through emotional words. The words are simple. Another thing you might notice is that it’s a sonnet – not in strict iambic pentameter, but fourteen rhymed, relatively short lines.Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own sad poem, but one that, like Teicher’s, achieves sadness through simplicity. Playing with the sonnet form may help you . . .”
She sits, humming to herself, thread licked thin into the needles eye; her keen eyes once sharp, blurring. She double threads the needle, then ties a thick knot, whispering the words of a beloved song, bringing the needle point in and out and stitching the quilt together. She fingers her roses, dried and fragile, wanting to save them, but recognizing that nothing in this world is forever; not her favorite worn books, nor the last roses her husband gifted.
Good Morning! Some August quotes. Sorry if some of them are repeats. I’m trying to clear my iPad and usually I delete the ones I use on here, but sometimes I forget. Nevertheless, great quotes anyways! Enjoy!
Welcome to another edition of my bi-weekly interview series. I’m excited to share with you a talented and beautiful poet, writer, and interviewee — my friend of many years on WordPress — blogger Ameena K.G. The way her poems flow and the lessons they teach, often amaze me. You can visit Ameena’s blog here: Randoms by a Random.
1.Please Tell Us About Yourself Ameena:
My name is Ameena and I am from Nigeria, although for the past five-years, Sudan has been my home. I am currently studying there.
I am a medical student in my fifth-year. When I’m not busy studying, I love to write poetry and stories. I enjoy watching videos of poetry read out-loud on YouTube and watching documentaries on YouTube as well. Comedy is one of myfavourite genres to watch. Anything which makes me laugh is welcome. My day begins with prayer, then I drink a cup of black coffee to help me make it through the day.
2. When Did You Begin Writing and Blogging?
I began writing when I was in high school, mostly poetry and short stories, but I didn’t write on a regular basis. My poems are and were, a reflection of how I feel.
Eventually I started a blog here on WordPress, it lasted only a bit before I deleted it. Let’s just say, my state of mind when I wrote on my first blog and on my blog now, are polar opposites. One great thing to come out of my initial short blogging stint was making friends in the WordPress community who motivated me to keep on writing.
My current blog is my second go at blogging. I had no intention of making my second blog a poetry blog (I thought I was done with poetry) but I guess, just because one leaves poetry, doesn’t mean poetry leaves you. On my second try at blogging I found myself writing again and loving it.
“I had no intention of making my second blog a poetry blog . . . but I guess, just because one leaves poetry, doesn’t mean poetry leaves you. On my second try at blogging I found myself writing again and loving it.” – Ameena
3. What Does Writing and Poetry Mean to you? Where Do You Find Your Inspiration For Writing?
Poetry for me is a way of introspection and it’s also the way I deal with life’s curve balls. I feel, I hurt, I write…
My inspiration comes from human beings. We are emotional creatures and I love to channel those feelings into words.Failure, successes, dreams, love, sadness, pain, heartbreak, all of these experiences are part of being human;writing helps me deal with these emotions. Almost all of my poems are inspired by life experiences and those don’t necessarily have to be my experiences.
4. Do You Find There Is a Time of Day You Prefer to Write?
I am a morning person. I love to wake up at dawn, pray, watch the sun rise with a cup of coffee at hand, and write. A lot of people don’t understand how I can wake-up in the morning with a huge smile in my face, but really, my best days are dayswhen I wake up early.
” My inspiration comes from human beings. We are emotional creatures and I love to channel those feelings into words. Failure, successes, dreams, love, sadness, pain, heartbreak, all of these experiences are part of being human; writing helps me deal with these emotions.” – Ameena K.G.
5. Do You Have Any Current or Future Writing Projects?
Right now, unfortunately, blogging has taken a back seat in my life. It wouldn’t be fair to say I am busy; it’s solely a matter of priority. I love blogging and writing but my education comes first for me, and my life over recent months has been stressful.
Still, I’m hoping to revive my Mental Health Friday series on my blog, which even though I’ve shelved it for months now, receives visits and views; I’d like to continue the series. Additionally, I recently ventured into Flash Fiction writing. I enjoy it, and would like to write more Flash Fiction and improve my fiction writing.
6. Have You Published Any Poetry or Writing or Would You Like To?
I only found out a week ago that a poem I submitted was chosen to appear in a poetry anthology.The poem is called, “Imperfect Paths” which will be published on the 30th of September. I would love to publish more poetry and writing someday. Right now my goal is to write as much as I’m able and to improve my writing with every piece.
“I only found out a week ago that a poem I submitted was chosen to appear in a poetry anthology. The poem is called, “Imperfect Paths” which will be published on the 30th of September.” – Ameena K.G.
7. Do You Have A Publishing Process When You Write? What Is Your Writing Process Like?
Currently, I don’t have a process. I have only started submitting some of my works to online magazines. It’s pretty easy to do actually. But I have no experience in the publishing world.
There’s nothing to my writing process. I sit and write even on the days when I don’t feel like it — I still write.When I’m in need of inspiration, I read other poems or Google search images or photographs to help provide me with something to focus on for writing, a kind of writing prompt.
8. Do You Prefer to Read Certain Writing Genres? Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers?
As a reader, I love a bit of mystery. I am a huge crime fiction fan and I also love stories which make me laugh out loud. When it comes to reading poetry, I’m not big on metaphors. I enjoy emotions and description in simple words.
As for advice for other writers: Write no matter what –rainy days, sunny days, even days when your writing muse is AWOL. The best way to get better at writing is to simply do it –write.
Always remember — you’re a writer, so embrace it, hug it, love it. If it is your passion, then nobody has the right to tell you to tame it.
“Write no matter what –rainy days, sunny days, even days when your writing muse is AWOL. The best way to get better at writing is to simply do it –write. Always remember — you’re a writer, so embrace it, hug it, love it. If it is your passion, then nobody has the right to tell you to tame it.” – Ameena K.G.
9. Is There Anything Else You Would Like to Share Which You Believe is Pertinent to Your Writing or Yourself?
When it comes to my writing, I’d say this: Don’t try to interpret what I wrote from my perspective. I believe to different people poetry has different meanings. I remember writing a poem about a father who never stood up for his daughter. The poem was inspired by someone who I’d say broke my trust.
Things aren’t always black and white in poetry and writing. All that matters is that the reader can understand and relate to what you write; it doesn’t matter if the poem is true for the writer, as long as it rings true for the reader.
10. Please Share With Us Some of Your Writing and/or Poetry:
And I told it,
Have a seat,
It wasn’t even dawn,
At least let me have a cup of coffee,
In peace, at least-
I said to my depression.
Depression knocked on my door,
And I welcomed it
With open arms,
We’ve been together
For so long now,
We might as well be friends,
Depression knocked and I welcomed it.
Depression knocked on my door,
And we had a one sided-
While the sky turned golden behind us,
You’ve had your stay
And I have entertained you,
Now- it’s time to take your leave,
I said to my depression.
Depression knocked on my door,
Like an unwanted guest,
Which tends to overstay it’s welcome.
But the birds sung a melodious,
Tune In the background,
And I turned the door knob
To a lock,
With a passion I didn’t think,
Existed within me,
I said to my depression- We are done!
Check-Out Some Links to Some of Ameena’s Other Writing and Poetry Here:
Thank you so much to Ameena for agreeing to be interviewed and sharing with other bloggers and readers your point of view on writing and poetry. Your perspective is inspiring, candid, and honest, that’s a vital aspect to have in writing and in life in general.
If you enjoyed this interview and would like to share with other writers and bloggers your perspective, process on writing, and something unique about yourself and your writing, please reach-out to me on myContact Page here.
“Yeah, I guess. This is it.” Carter murmured. He was holding Melanie’s hands in his and couldn’t seem to let go of them.
“I can’t believe it,” she said.”We’ve traveled all over the world together since Amsterdam. Now I’m probably never going to see you again.” Tears slipped down Melanie’s soft white cheeks.
She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry.
“I’ll visit.” Carter promised.”I’m sure I’ll end up in Montreal sometime in the future.”
“But that’s just it Carter. You can’t promise that.” Melanie said wiping her cheeks. “You travel the world for your job. You take wild and fantastic pictures for National Geographic.”
“I’m an accountant trying to finish her CA. I want to start my own business and I want to stay in Montreal. I grew-up there and my parents and other family live there. I can’t imagine leaving them for longer than I already have, travelling the last two-years.”
“I could settle in Montreal someday . . .” Carter mused.
“Don’t say that.”
“Make promises you can’t keep.You grew up in Tuscany, in Italy. Your family maybe American but you live on this beautiful land where you make wine, as your ancestors did for generations.” Melanie said.
“Your home in Tuscany, it’s your anchor and it’s where you love to go when you’re off.” Melanie said squeezing Carter’s hands tighter.
“You’re not Canadian. It’s beautiful but I know for you, it’s not home.”
“Perhaps, you’re my new home?” Carter said gazing in Melanie’s sad green eyes.
“Don’t lie to my like that, Carter.” She chastised, “If you say something like that you have to mean it. If we were to maintain our relationship, you’ d have to see me more than every once in a while. Can you do that with your work and family?”
Carter was frustrated and unhappy. “No I can’t. I can’t make promises to you right now. There’s too much of the world I wan’t to see still. I can’t see myself settling down for years and if I did . . .No not in your beautiful Canada.” A tear escaped Carter’s milk-chocolate eyes; he was embarrassed.
Melanie was outright crying now.
Carter took her in his arms and held her. After a while her cries turned to sniffles. She turned her face up to him and he kissed her for what he knew would be the last time. He drew the kiss out, knowing he would need to remember it for a lifetime.
“You have to go soon. You have to get through customs before your flight leaves.” Melanie remarked he voice hoarse.
“I know,” Carter said depressed.”This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done Mel.If it’s meant to work out, maybe one day it will?”
Melanie smiled. “No more promises you can’t keep. I’ll miss you Carter, so much.”
She had such strength; Carter always admired Melanie’s strength of character.
He stared back at his beautiful Mel as she waved to him and he walked away. Her auburn hair was braided and her beautiful green eyes full of unshed tears.
Carter somehow knew, he’d never see Mel again. They might chat over Facebook or he might see her pictures on Instagram. But he doubted in person, they’d ever meet.
He’d never forget his last image of her, attempting to smile while hiding her sadness. Carter waved to Mel and tried to look forward to his next photo shoot in Copenhagen.
Life shapes you.
It molds, it beholds a person still forming.
In a variety of ways it kills you inside, be still as it fills you, you do not die…
Life shapes you, and you haven’t a choice how malleable you are.
You can live with the changes, the bitter exchanges; life is a stranger
It makes a white web of dew drops flow through you like tear drops
Life is web of disasters, reactive or be proactive, you must live
To forge through the jungles, the brick walls, the barriers ahead
Injury is injust, but nothing is just, it’s the laws of nature you know
Survive, revive the fire that fuels the ether of your soul
Be a stranger in the land, be a friend, be a teller of stories
Through stories we live, write the tale, write the book
Carry the history of the world on your shoulders as life shapes you.
Life shapes you.
The rejected, protected, protesting people of the world.
They live through imagination, fantasy erases reality, in our bubbles we float.
The lost and the lonely, the ghostly faces, cold …
We do not greet each other warmly, we conform, push our faces until they are still.
Impressions, of ghastly masks, the future in fluorescence bright
Perhaps, there is a dawning, through let downs, and push downs, no gifts in this life
Selfish and forlorn, we do not remember He gave, so we give nothing.
The smoke of a burning, my stomach is churning, these candles aren’t holy
There the incense of blasphemy, a man smoking hasheesh to dull the pain that blinds.
Remind us we see nothing, we are into ourselves, and no one else, we see our own souls.
We lack sight into the souls of the broken and burnt, those crushed by life – we only see a mirrored reflection and miss the men behind the mirror that life shaped too.
Life shapes you.
You have little choice in the matter, you move to control to fight the shaping
You grow, hear the wails and the lo’s, down low you fall in throws
Fits of passion, purging the truth from the eyes of the polite and apathetic
Progress, ingest the flavor of this life, providing a taste, wonderfully complex
Move to improve, do not choke on incense, it’s needed by some
Who fight pain and the blame of some mother and her children, she teaches selfishness
She grows sadness and injustice because she doesn’t realize the knifing pain that wrings you
Dry, inspire tears in dry eyes, don’t undo, the glue that keeps us healthy
Request that life keep you in it’s hands, until He comes to get you that glorious day
Removing, relaxing the dull blindness of the world
A world that doesn’t give, a world that suppresses, all that we are suppose to be
And see the light in the darkness
The glow in the worm
A beacon, a breathe, flooding agony in the sunlight, highlight the shadows that surround us
Confound us, rebreak and reform us, here we see the dense thickness of hate
Become shiver upon tiny sliver that glimmers.
Life shapes you.