Poetic Verses

Poetic verses (different genres)

Forgetting In Progress ……

‘urm yeah so where was I ?’

I say after a long conversation and someone distracts me, 

as soon as the conversation is about to become interesting

I grit my teeth with irritation and pure annoyance ticking in my brain, I depend on my friend to ”remind me” as I look at her sharply

making my eyes look like lines more than anything

I try to recall it … unfortunately my poor memory can not find the missing puzzle of my dialogue,

”urm …yeah so where was I ?’ 

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2014


‘Prosperity fosters bad temper’- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Literary Habits Of Alliteration

Mimicking the mimesis . meddling with metaphors . momentarily creating moments of suspense

Spiking a shock wave through your spinal , speaking of soliloquising your psyche , assonance assisting a sentence ,

Cacophonous consonants confidently causing cuts like a carcass on a coral reef,

Euphonies looking for empathy ,etymology enhancing the experience of eloquence ,

Fiction fixing the facts in to falsehood ,

Mythology making mysteries blend with history , mixing the minds of the masses as though on morphine , magically merging in to modernity

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2014

I want to write

I want to write a poem

a poem so intense , that letters convert into lenses to help us travel through history

I want to write about untold tales and mysteries

a poem that causes nothing but misery

I want to write a piece about possible peace that makes those who read shudder from their crown to their feet

a poem that causes nothing but silence, halting the violent winds of war

I want to move similes so much as if it were emotions , frowning , smiling and crying

a poem that adds verbs to adverbs

I want to shift shapes like shape shifters

a poem that causes damage like aches and splinters

I want to write a poem as irritating as split ends and as heart breaking as split ends of the earth’s hemisphere

a poem that awakens unity and fears separation

I want to write a poem that sees , feels , smells and hears

a poem with less deprivation of expression

I want to never end this poem unendingly

a poem that adds new words to the dictionary

I want to write a poem that’s as perfect as symmetry

a poem that reconstructs and redefines geometry

I want to write a poem with acoustics and melody

a poem that I can dance to , one that reminds me of sun is shining by Bob Marley

I want to write a poem that’s as revolutionary as Marcus Garvey

a poem that stings like a bee and that’s as fly as Muhammad Ali

I want to write a poem that makes abridged poems look elongated

a poem that makes vertical lines look like your only horizon

I want to write a poem with side effects

a poem that creates remedies through ancient antidotes

I want to write a poem with musical sound waves

a poem that hits every note

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013

The King of Society

This is to the lion, the king of not the jungle, but society

Father, colloquially known as Dad

The mothers are the needles and the fathers are the medicine

Mother keeps you going with care

And father shapes your condition with wisdom and discipline

Although strong and firm with his scolding look of a hero

His smile is brighter than the sun’s rays and the moon intertwined

Without him life wouldn’t function, like the number ten without a zero

Life is Nil without him                                

Except that my first provider is Allah

Second I put my father

The weight on his back was for him as easy as one, two, and three

Though in all honesty it was a burden which even the earth failed to carry

The qax (War) does not come to memory, my mind and thoughts were too fragile then

But my evidence is with in the settlement I’m currently in,

Without him I would have been the child in which upon his head was a pistol

How evil killing unjustly, even an infant that is oblivious is under tension 

Tell the first lines of your name, and if you’re not one of us

Then BANG!  With in a split of a second you behold the blood and bones splattered on the surface of the ground or soil in which it bears a plant called qabil(clanism), killed because of division, because of disorderly thinking war mongers 

Alhamdulilah we escaped it, and I’m not left without my hero

Knowing papa’s struggles makes me produce tears from the glands of my eyes, although still in his presence

Even one thousand gallons of tears would not be enough to describe his strife

And yes this is to the lion the king of not the jungle, but society.

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013


‘Understanding …

‘Understanding is my canvas and knowledge is my masterpiece’

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013

The Truth …

The Truth

“There’s no organ stronger than the firm tongue that speaks the venamous truth”

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013

‘Finding a good…

‘Finding a good companion is like trying to find a rare fruit in a dry desert’
Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013

“It is imposs…

“It is impossible to think ‘outside the box’ when we have been restricted to think inside the very box that depletes our cognitive freedom” –Rukia Mohamoud (me)
Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013


The very thing that shapes us is the nest of the past .
Not so much cherishing and repeating it, rather holding it as a reminder of our regrets and slips and trips in life , so that we utilise it in a responsible manner, that would set aright our future.
Making sure that the egg remains untouched by others ;as our past is  an intricate intimacy of our hidden embarrassments , insecurity and indecisive moments . It is a miscellaneous collection of bad and good that derives from our intentions, then adversely evolves in to actions and demeanour ,which then becomes others perception of ourselves as individuals.

It is intrusive when one asks about those aforementioned factors that created a possibly self-destructive , unorganized or unruly being .
And these aspects come to light when one realised the calligraphical if not quintessential meaning of sankofa (originates from Ghanian symbolism) that depicts  a bird looking back at its back reaching out for the eggs of the past , as those eggs were a production of mistakes.And that of course is the significance of history , once repeated you are deemed a reckless  fool

Rukia Mohamoud Copyright © 2013


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