Slavery
This is how
slavery began
The day dealers
sold her
On board “The
Phillis” she rested
Shackled for
months
In Stone forts
To be
transported
To what they
called
The New Land…
Along the
journey, she was puzzled
On her own
No kin, no brighter
skin
But bitterness
of being thrown
In a mysterious
world
Full of enigmas
and cryptic clues
But agony of
being thrown
In the arms of
the unknown
With a broken
shin
Pale with fear
What a dreadful
atmosphere!
Heart thumping,
fingers shivering
Head nodding
Look! Darkness
marries loss
Once the
Atlantic Masters did cross
With smothered
voice
Jesus! Hear me,
I beg thou
Release this
flock of sheep
Squeezed we are
thus
Awaken us from
sleep
Zipporah, free
us
So must Jethro
Where to go?
Imprisoned,
enslaved mercilessly
I have been
squeamish
About history of
servitude
Utter
subjugation, forced labor
Due time to
abolish
We are
Christians too
Brothers,
siblings and even neighbor…
Tasty Murder
The Bohemian
Corporal starts playing the fool
Language is his
sweet tool
Crypted
messages, he shall convey.
Grasps not, he,
the challenge.
The odor of
blood is a substitute for fortified food
Ruling is worth
killing
Pinned in the
Reich
The Ashkenaz
souls; the shoah to display.
He’d always say:
“We are
peoples
you are peoples”
Paves the bay to
that dark day
When innocent
men, sentenced to death
When many, burnt
alive
When much wealth
loves the rich solely
Of one direction
the train has,
The der Führer
is convinced deeply…
Wanting To Live
As Isabel
inquiries about the days she spent alone,
Wanting to know
why things happened when she was
Too coy.
Why the
subservient dog gave up, not barking anymore
She opened the
wardrobe, obsessed by the pursuit of joy
Wanting to live,
not one might annoy
Sad sensation of
an approaching departure
Isabel waits and
waits,
A hundred years
elapsed
Lying to a self,
she was
Mild tears tear
up her curious mind
Pretense seizes
her love for an instant rupture
Glamour, power
blurs her way
A unique island,
a gift
On a sweetest
birthday,
Knowing not that
life is worth selling
Thinking of a
more civilized creature
Isabel wants to
live
To obscure
mortal rumors
To pepper the
years with icing sugar
Chilled
cheesecake tastes hot,
Though the lips
are swollen.
All she awaits
creeps into
A pinch of cumin
Cumulating an
acute account
Of the castrated
bodies of the Medusa
Like a
circumscribed boy
In ancient times
She wants to
live
In an arena
A wooden cave,
she dwells in
Surrounded by an
intimate ferocity
Animosity calls
her on the spot
Desiring, a
secret treasure, to give
Isabel knows
well, sister Serena
The woman,
writing dots
… Leaving vacant
pages,
But who will
fill them in?
Who dares that?
Isabel wants to
live
The rosy bed
embellishes that black view
Deserted it
becomes
Not the one to
forgive
Assembling the
far crew
She needs to
make her troubled sleep
Be defined
anew
As a sordid
cigarette
Whose flame
flies
She spends most
of the seasons
Flapping vaguely
Though her agony
is deep
Many times she
reassesses herself
Has grasped the
meaning of burying the past,
Treading on foes
in full blast
Of summer heat,
Isabel crushes
ashes
And feeds the
starving with red meat
Still-born,
Isabel wants not to die
Abandons
Tramadol pills
Destroys tablets
Evacuates
doctors’ phone calls
Laughs out loud,
smiles and sings
A daring dance
shakes those white walls
The body does
fly
Like a red
riding kite.
My Pen
Pen is power
Behind the
shades, obscurity dissipates
Dawn is getting nearer
and nearer
Time to write
Virgin papers are there,
awaiting the ink
To be spilled,
it will be
A poem has to be
written
Now I sat on a chair, the window is
open
A bird is
tweeting
I heard him say
Never succumb,
never give up
Keep on writing,
It is reserved
for You.
My voice comes
out of a deep well
From long torpor
it has awakened
A poem has to be
written
Words are now crammed, flowing
nonstop
Pouring out
decades of silence
Now I can write
No one can quell
my voice
No one can
thwart me
No one can
oppress me
I am the one
whose words
Are mightier
than swords
I possess words
Words are made
for me
The war is
launched
I am the warrior
A poem has been
written
It bespeaks that
I do exist
The pen is the
weapon a woman holds
Fighting like a
knight to obliterate oppression
To efface
ignorance is my mission
The witch is now
burning out of the flames of her pen
She is a
survivor. Triumphant she becomes
A poem has been
written …
Breathe
That small cop
Caught the
‘gentle giant’,
The coy boy
In dark
garments,
Thought the gate
to triumph
Passes by the
show,
Selfying the
missionary moment
Turned the cow
boy into a vampire
A nasty nymph
That little cop
Knew not what
this dark spot
Was capable to
do
The harbinger of
the pop
Seized the best
shot
Not the first
Won’t be the
last
Discriminated
against, in States,
Where unity
dissipates
“I can’t
breathe!”
Three words have
crossed borders,
Penetrated
hearts before minds
Shook hands
Not sterile,
Traversed
contaminated suburbs
Still wearing
the surgical mask,
The words have
become a rallying point
Because they
were true
Now you can
breathe
As the Heavenly
law
Has darkened
your killer’s face
Whose psychosis
is infantile,
Chastened your
blackened race
Not the first
Can’t be the
last
Change won’t
take place
Racism, for
some,
Runs like poison
in a snake’s tongue
Devastates
cities during hurricanes
Plays the fool
like a well-known clown,
Winning the
election while doing much wrong,
Spreads like the
Spanish flu,
Wiping out
millions
Not wearing the
tissue
Your color, not
the counterfeit $20 bill
Is the issue
Not the first
Can’t be the
last
Your sane
journey to the endless breath
Knelt on
The shocking
scene
Of your death.
So, breathe
there, our ‘gentle giant’
It is for free
There
Is
Your wealth.
Neither the
first
Nor the last
Case
The ‘Orange
Julius,
Taken to the
underground bunker,
Entrapped like a
visible enemy
While the Black
devoured
The Wild Rice
Even in a white
House
‘Trample thin
skin’ was itching
To exercise his
dim thumb,
Smelling the
approaching downfall
Of a damned
dace.
ANISSA SBOUI
Dr. ANISSA SBOUI:
A University teacher and poet, living in Sousse, Tunisia. The writer of
three volumes: Transcend (2018), Rebirth (2019) and Number One (2020), The
Co-Avid Breath (2021) and Hurricane (2022). Her poems featured in Writing in a
Woman’s Voice, The Writers’ Club, Galaxy: International Multidisciplinary
Research Journal, Dumpster Fire Press, Medusa’s Kitchen and The 2020 Annual by
the Elizabeth River Writers.
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