Paradox of a Drowned River-Flower

~ a dark love poem ~

Copperplate etching by author ‘Seascape’

You said

in voice infirm,

sight ravished by too

many suns and

glimpsed chimeras,

nothing is forever.

I walked a chained walk

on a scorched immaculacy,

shattered splashes of

yesterday’s innocence.

And I was left with

a sharded sun

black flowers and

severed arms…

The Woman Who Would Be Mother

~ though we did not share a womb ~

Portrait of the Author as a young child

It’s dusk.

“Come child, sit”

she’d say.

Wood fire

clay courtyard

small and damp

smell of which

sits in my soul

like aromatic earth

even today.

My Ayah’s lap

a cradle

like no other

a cradle of cloud,


and simply

Ghosts of a Lost World

~ and we must live ~

Image credit: Pixabay

The outside world.

Do red and purple neon signs pierce hazy skies, still, and roadside cafes animate the night? Can laughter be heard as girls, buoyed by sunshine, excitement and expectancy walk to school? Is there really a world left out there? I will…

A Love Story

Image Credit: Pixabay

Her eyes were closed, his open, and between the woman and the man, ghost screams rose, and like thin long birds that break their beaks against cracked mirrors, flapped around, then settled to roost in the disquiet of an abandoned citadel of silence. Both lay at the edge of an…

Exile in Egypt

~ Cairo, day one of two years ~

The Pharaonic goddess Nut (night sky) public domain

Like shards of crystal slanted with gold, dragonflies hover and hasten in green clouds of an ancient Ficus more a terraced geographical feature than an arboreal entity, they dart and skim then dance down to sip cool waters from a pool undisturbed…

Give Me a Vulture Any Day

~ On some things I am clear ~

‘The Wounded Deer’ Frida Kahlo

and I will not go quietly

I judge the murderer

I judge the rapist

I cannot

judge a woman

or a victim

who kills a tormentor.

The anguished know —

within shadows



gems die

everyone hears

no one hears.


Broken In My Own Wholeness

~ an unlove poem ~

Alan_Henderson on Pixabay

Cleanse yourself

cleanse yourself


cleanse my own perfection?

All I am not,

you want


in your own

crumbled edifice

lie tired counted hours.

To purify perfection?

It’s mine to keep.

I was broken.

Yes, broken,


but in my own wholeness.



My Life, An Illusionist Graph

~ and every day, new axes ~

Image on Pixabay by IvanTamas

Love’s little deaths

shed burnt flowers,

melted stars

rind and pulp

at my door

and I come alive

again and again.


of up and down lines,

— a daily graph

I must live by —

cannot hide…

Farida Haque

Multimedia artist, writer, poet. ‘Celebrating other lives, I am a sparrow in the shadow of a rosebush...’

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