Poems by Maha Madadali-

The deep, dark lining of grey and black to my eyes-the lifeless clouds and heart as if crushed under the horse’s feet in a race, I’m sorry if the shrapnels on the street – after I collect the bundled or stapled papers on the street left outside alone by many Someones covered in white and black font that is faded and words could barely be made out of it. A few words carry the news of the world but people still never see the stories bore in its origin; a glass broken, breakfast left uneaten, “your room’s a mess” the morning lectures, camera and tripod, files in hand, work trouble and depression. In the next room, unsettling handprints on reddened cheeks and cries muffled. In the next house, a little girl is stripped of her childhood by her own hero. Boss’ continuous deadline warnings and a teacher’s continuous scolding! Burdened shoulders, invisible handcuffs straining wrists, hands turning into fists, giggles turning into cries, laughter turning into whys, words left unspoken and the jar of hearts broken-hurt because even though I try not to believe it is true but it will happen in the morning after this one too and it won’t stop even if a storm turns everything into ash or lightning starts giving birth to beautiful roses. I wished to the shooting stars and I wished at my first fast, I wished in evening and morning prayers, I wished in the airplane and on the ground, I wished with tears in my eyes and I wished with my soul broken, I wished for I knew how to end this… either ending words to this piece or ending all the thought of bad deeds for this World’s peace… I wished…

Dead for me! I saw her living and thriving at YOUR home! 

I didn’t pass by your home tonight. I wouldn’t pass by your home, now maybe for a long time. You see, I dreamt tonight. I dreamt of you; a ghostly complexion… creases on your forehead telling me tales of worry and sadness. It all played like the brown tape of the cassette in which I recorded your voice: your plays and your laughs, your favorite shows, your favorite scented oil and the (forgetting) coconut water seller who keeps asking me why don’t you buy coconut water any longer? 

I passed by your home today, and saw her lying in bed peacefully. My hands turning into claws, and big nails pierce her skin, stripping her layer by layer and tossing it into the fire. Ghost of a woman with strawberry lipstick running across the river where the shadows thrive. A snap of my fingers and she’s thrown off in the field of hurricanes, a moonwalking silhouette dripping red currant blood… 

Your home’s on my way, it’s lock says someone’s home with a cute little crown on it. My neck is tilting to the side a bit, the girl, on her way, is saying something, when there’s nobody there to listen! 

Take slow, soft steps into the devil’s garden

Take only smile carved pumpkins. 

Now try to get caught and if you do be his prisoner for the day, dance with him under the moonlight, free and wild like werewolves are made your skin and bones. Smile when he gives you a bouquet of dead roses. Sin with him under the scarlet skies. Praise him and cast spells under your breath. Collect amnesia from his skin. 

Ace the killing, murder the clever, make a talisman out of him. 

As the raven sheds in its oaken voice, become a sage for sinners, brew the potion, W i T C H C R A F T iN Y O U R VEiNs 

Set the woods on fire, boil plastic fangs and water where the shadows swim… And when the souls say God is a she, and she’ll eat thee alive 

Sneer and tell them the potion, this black soul brews, is to burn that she alive and thriving!

Let it go 
Let the mask fall off 
Let me know you 
Let me trace every inch of you 
Let me praise you 
Every way I can. 

I’ve fallen way ahead 
To only like you 
I cannot claim to love you 
So what I do 
I live you. 

I live each breath you take 
Every smile you fake 
All those little things 
That warm your heart 
And every vapour of the tear 
You do not let fall. 

Even endorphins releasing 
Behind the mask 
Can’t make your eye shine 
Like a balloon is ripped 
When bloodied cuts on little palm 
Tell tales. 

You still stand 
Stand high, you know 
Like the king in his courtroom

Sits on a throne higher 
You see like him, everyone equal
Everyone deserves to be happy
Even if what smiles they take 
Are yours to own. 

Let this mask fall 
Let me teach you 
The art if loving 

Summer’s my favorite season 
Since today 
He made me believe in forever 
On our bench, he took my heart away
Didn’t say he won’t be there ever
This winter again 
In that garden on the same bench
The sun who gave light and warmth to all
And I who became somebody’s world
We’ll be the ones holding our own hands
We’ll get lost on that same bench Summer was never good 
Love was heartless since always
I never should’ve ignored the signs Who knew? 
To be lost is to get found! 
It is loss until you patiently look around
Before the eclipse that day 
The sun and I turned the bench around
And look we were found 
On the road that lead to eternal love!

Follow me on Instagram for more content.