Poems by Deema Mahmood
A butterfly
As a raw butterfly, I float at home
In the time of the kitchen
Cutting a piece of it for poetry that is beyond curtain
Nobody knows that a poem melted down from me
Whereas washing dishes
A storm of words swept me while cooking okra
I sometimes, don’t have any explanation for the momentum covering me while grilling fish
Like pendulum, the stanzas vibrate in my head
I want them likewise, swinging and stressing
Not to be polished by the vapor of frying and the smell of cleaning powders
May I wrap them in a towel, not to be wet by moisture while cooling in the fridge
Scarcely, I hurried to write down my stanzas
That spouts from the kitchen, on the mobile notes
When my home day ends, I look at the mirror
Touching my eyelashes, eyes, lips and my roses
So, I have rapture from my lissome completion
The idols of poetry that tempted me at the kitchen,
Lurks in my braid and refuses to get out
I try to remember but in vain, as if fell in the soup plate
Of my husband who swigged it saying:
Explain to me why some of your food is more delicious than others
In other times,
He winks me flirting at the mirror
Pulling out the poetry stanzas from my gypsy hair
Printing them with his music on my lips
Then, I want to step to complete the poem
Its the same but i forget (a) in the title in the first one.
Fetus’s Becoming
I become a fetus
roll on myself like a ball
This remembering feeds me
I get high on the musk
Of the umbilical chord
The melded odours of my parents
I bask in my beginnings
My mother and I and I as one
As we orbit our universe
Now the clear water sits
On the sediment
My true self without mask or gayle
Free from algay and colours
I arise without myths and predictions
Free to become.
Both are marvellous Poems!