Love You Mom
Love you, mom
Miss your lap,
Need your hugs,
Recall your tap
Miss your kiss,
Your warm bliss
Doing this
is a custom
When enthralled
in your kingdom
Love you, mom
my sweet twin
of your love,
I’m certain
holding you,
declares my
dependent freedom.
Love you, mom
My lovely Chora,
Adore you for
that compelling
aura.
August 17th
Green Street,
Mayfair
Scorching
weather
Serious affair,
Opting for silky
maxi dress,
Abandoning
leather.
The pregnant
Lady
With red Zōri,
And a coolie hat
But!
Strong labour
pains startled her…
Giving birth to
a girl
Seemed a genuine
matter
Not a word did
she utter,
Recalling
pre-Islamic barbaric fight
She read about
and had deep insight
“When the female
infant,
buried alive, is
questioned
For what crime
she was killed”
It was wrong
horrible deed, not right.
Ready for the
nesting instinct,
Her fateful
mission was
Possible as Ian
Fleming might detect,
For family Bond
she has longed
Her body
replaced her body,
Despite fake
laughter,
Mood swings,
Style to alter
Many other
things:
Chloasma,
Hyperpigmentation,
Hemmorhoids,
Medical terms
she wanted to shutter.
Here in the
hospital
Her womb beats
her to the delivery room,
Cries do hover
Over and over.
Never cry, the
mother says,
Ahead of time to
cry,
You will have to
adapt,
To think twice
before you act,
To live or die,
To love or hate
To abide by your
bitter fate,
To leave or
stay,
To wipe your
tears away,
Wait until you
grow,
Life will
obviously show,
Decades of
immense triumph,
Coupled with decades
of decay…
Womb Worlds
I breathe
I feel
I touch
I speak
I write my body
My body is
My words,
My language,
United with the
world womb of my mother
Writing it
Is my existence.
When I write it
United with the
world womb of my mother
There is bliss
There is
jouissance.
My unconscious
is conscious,
My words prove
precious,
A woman
I am
United with the
world womb of my mother
Not sterile
Being fertile
Eclipses silence
I won’t be put
into a trance
My language is
multiple,
Double-triple-double,
My poetic realm
is ample
It is
impregnating, plural
United with the
world womb of my mother
His is singular,
linear.
Deconstruct
binarism
I am the Queen
Man remains a
prince.
Shower
Cleanness
cherishes her swollen body
Water awaits to
flow over from the show stall
A mass of
liquid, on her back, does fall
Caring no more
to save it
Let it pour,
waste
Spilled on her
chest
Even her waist
A fount
Springs
Touching her
wrinkled face
Rejuvenation
takes place
Power in the
realm of shower
She combs her
short hair
Curly it has
become
Like the years
she spends
On her own
Suffocated is
her tone
The body lotion
Revitalizes her
dry emotion,
What a fluffy
silky skin!
So does the
moisturizing, cleansing shampoo
Never read the
caution
Excessive use
may irritate, blur her vision
Indifferent she
seems,
Like a hungry
tiger
Chasing his prey
The foam
refreshens her body,
Invisible she
becomes
Looking in the
mirror
Only chastity,
Whiteness can be
seen
No dirtiness,
her body is clean
A shadow of the
broken lady
Bubbles up
Water still
flows nonstop
Drop culminates
in another drop
A new woman is
born
What a
redemptive shower!
Endowing her
with more power
Turning the
desperate tomboy
Into a feminine
flower
A real woman is
born
Folding pages of
a life torn
Placing Christ’s
salvation horn
Retreating to
her feminine tower
A strong woman
is born
Wearing the
Nuptial crown
Destiny is in
her hands
An iron lady has
now grown
ANISSA SBOUI
Dr. ANISSA SBOUI:
-A University teacher and poet from Sousse, Tunisia -The writer of Transcend
(2018), Rebirth (2019) and Number One (2020), The Co-Avid Breath (2021),
Hurricane (2022) & Three short-stories: “Alone”, “The Moody Bookworm” and
“Coincidence” - Her poems featured in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, The Writers’ Club,
Galaxy: International Multidisciplinary Research Journal, Dumpster Fire Press,
Medusa’s Kitchen, The 2020 Annual by the Elizabeth River Writers, Valiant
Scribe, Literary Heist, Setu Bilingual Journal, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Our
Poetry Archive
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