For my brother
My 2nd Attempt At this Challenging Stylistic Exercise. Please, do tell me how I did this time around!
Writing Training Following Ursula K. Le Guin’s Guidance 📚 📖
Tumor, tu meurs Like budding petals of a fleur. Tumor, tu meurs Like a languidly beating Coeur. Tumor... Tu meurs Like the mots of passants. Tu meurs, tumor Like the life of mes parents. Tumor, je meurs So be it, il était temps. Tu meurs, ils pleurent These are the tears des enfants. Tôt le…
Continue reading ➞ Poem by Issa Dioume: ‘Tumor, tu meurs’ {Experimental, Bilingual Piece}
Jenny courait sur la colline. Ses fossettes creusaient ses joues, témoignaient de sa joie manifeste. Ses pieds martelaient le chemin en terre, laissaient des empruntes et délogeaient les petits cailloux de leur cratère dorénavant appauvris. Devant: un horizon sans ligne - seulement de grands arbres, feutrant les rayons du soleil. Derrière: seulement le souvenir de…
Where? 🍃
Thank you Winnie for nominating me for the Mystery Blogger Award. MYSTERY BLOGGER AWARD: What is that? “Its an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for…
...Hiding my emotions like an enamoured prostitute. Or an actor, trying to make his debut on this twisted scale. Harloting my way through life, a simulated masquerade, trying not to 'fail'. Beneath, this masked trade hides a performer. me. Outside lies the judging audience, silent observer. THEM. Only one believes the performance matters and fears…
Continue reading ➞ Silent Falling Bird of A Flock [Poem] by Issa Dioume
... I am the broken window pane. The howling, whistling window holding the panes. The midday shield stopping two forces from fusing. Living in perpetuity. Intermittence is my daily goal. One light shines through me. A shadow casts itself on and beyond me. Yet I hold. Performing a balancing act of light and darkness for…
I tattooed pages full of ink Birthed characters who think Pushed my sanity on the brink People asked: why? I wink ------ ------- ------ Truth often trudges in faraway lands Epigrammatic eloquence sleeps in limbos Make in the zero, sinuous desert roads. There I am, kneeling, sand in hand Trying to quench and expand Seeing…
Continue reading ➞ SAND RIDGES OF MY HAND [Poem] by Issa Dioume
