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Best Poems Written by Fareeha Fareej Mohamed

Below are the all-time best Fareeha Fareej Mohamed poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Nellie Is Home - Inspired By Haunting of the Hill House By Shirley Jackson

Nellie is home, in the arms of great halls,
She's got plenty to sing and carve on these walls,
Nowhere, I linger, absence abound,
I've got none to return to - none safe and sound

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

The Boy Who Killed His Own Mother

“Do you know who he is?”
My brother whispered in my ear,
Pointing to a boy on the screen
Whose eyes showed no fear

He looked plump, he looked pale,
Forehead trickling with uncertainty,
His face told a familiar tale,
And stirred something in my tummy

How could a boy stumble into darkness,
Where oil pastels fill every void,
Where my dolls could prance, and I rule a kingdom,
Where even, down a hole, Alice could find joy

 
Did a moody-eyed man sweep in,
Swinging his watch before his eyes,
So all he sees is a whirlpool of hate,
And the urge to pick up a knife?

Or did the wicked witch of the East cast a spell
So his devils could wear a disguise 
Play with his brain until he sees pain
In keeping his fists by his sides

Mum says games can have gore
So maybe the boy’s heart was tainted
He wanted to try beyond his console
Until regrets could never be deleted 

Maybe nothing really happened
The boy simply wanted more
Ice creams for breakfast 
No nagging to ignore

 
Then what happens next?
Who would tuck him into bed?
Sing him a lullaby
And hug the nightmares dead

How would he smile in the morning,
Eggs and pancakes on the plate
Cross the streets and find the lost
Get to school not too late

And how would he close his eyes,
Take deep breaths and sigh,
Without having someone as close
With whom he’d get by

Still I wonder why he did it,
Why he would even choose,
To hear a loved one screaming
From whom he got no bruise

 
I look to my mum, in my TP binoculars,
Ironing my dad’s shirts,
She’s heard the news but her hands don’t shake,
This could never happen to her

My brother returns to his homework,
And I to my clutter,
I don’t stop thinking about my class friend,
The boy who killed his own mother

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Louretta

Come back home,
Another night,
Louretta, 
An unborn child

The sins of a wife 
to an unholy tribe:
You've wings that fly 
In dreams and paradise

Come back home,
Louretta!

*

A play it was for two fools,
You pay for what they didn't lose,
Drowning in the dark,
Never knowing who you are,
My silence is your coffin's craven hues

*

Come back home,
One final dream,
Louretta, 
an unheard scream

Can you tell that 
you've met your demise,
your soul having known 
no hate or desires?

Come back home,
Louretta

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Falling Petals

My fingers ran over the bark
“A+K” nestled in a heart
Wouldn’t you come with me, he asked,
I cast a smile now an old scar
The gentle breeze closes my eyes
In the dusting of the springtime 
Sweet scented thoughts of yesterday
Waft too often never to stay
Winds settle and plums bloom no more 
The corpse of our carvings’ a stump
The lady in white pinafore:
"We should go back" - an innate grump
The clinic is a sight weary
None comes as close as “who was he?”

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

The Phantasmic Creature of Sickness

The echoes have returned
And they bear some bad news
The spawns are buried deep
With no liberty to lose

Maybe, these are waters with algae,
They're rich if murky
Forestalling for weeks on end
Before more capillaries have to fragment

It is a holy blessing, after all, to finally pray
Thirty days a month, five times a day
Or walk around the city’s mesmerizing
Without a hand to the belly’s throbbing

But there’s a living that feeds on time
It grows beneath these pores of mine
Hairs crawl out but leave no trace
My hands, my legs, and my face

It grows and grows and I notice my clothes
Tighten my pose for my thighs are too close
An hourglass no more but an apple to stay
The numbers under my feet rise everyday

Metres that many are not necessary
To smoke these lungs away
There’s a dead weight to carry - making me weary - 
Blind to the wishes I make

The mirrors have changed
And my body feels strange
My scalp feels so foreign
All its strands, it betrays
So any hand that runs through
Gets caught up in a mess
A handful of locks 
The size of distress

There is a capsule for each day
Vitamins and metformin
Ayurveda along the way,
But the scarlet’s staying in

No moonlights are enough
To cast a shadow over the scars caused
By the monster I could never snuff
These bloodshot eyes have been robbed

There is no tragedy as dire
As a woman having to quaver
The only being that could grow inside of her
Is something she could never mother

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Winnowing Winds

No winds are winnowing enough
To put a quill back in the hands of the dead poet
Or confidence back in the trachea of the strangled speaker
In me
Because no words are as vile
As no words at all
Where they're wanted

Sensitivity not sublime
Nor careful when it comes by
I feed no attention to the egocentric
I don't sew my lips before the arrogant 

I've learnt frankness is a sin
A snake oil with a venomous sting
It pierces hearts, taints their insides
So I remain in the corners of minds
Where the light's stretched far too thin
So that anytime I mumble in a moment of dread
Or so much as chuckle saying what I've said
The sound waves just linger - A musty frequency
Better off dispersed than heard

No winds are winnowing enough 
So as awkward it remains 
If for no one but I 
Because the air is only stale
Wherever I exhale

And when I do the mirror fogs
It gets too cold when I see my flaws-
A face with nothing to offer
Much like a vault that sees no prosper 

No winds are winnowing enough 
To blow the sands off my mirror
So, if a lack thereof, 
To hope, I may surrender 

Hope is like a poetry,
It's alive in the Literary 
Write, so I shall, journals and mails,
So every night my breath prevails,
But when I seal the envelope, 
I see the fall of hope,
A post with no address has nothing to contain

Hope is like a canopy,
Rooted in cookie crumbs,
A masquerade, a make-believe,
But ants could never be earthworms
The guise would still soak up enough water
So death may arrive a day later

No winds are winnowing enough,
And the earth remains elsewhere -
A witness to dying greens
That cling onto life as I do hope

Often that flame is snuffed out
When all my trials could show is doubt 
But not before fate and time inspire 
Some fuel to this fire

How could my cranium be cleaved 
If I ever closed my eyes and leaped
Without ever having reached 
Several floors from the concrete 

Still no winds are winnowing enough
So my corpse shall lay there
Its stench reaching no one
And its soul going nowhere 

My nerves will scream, my mouth unable
I ooze gangrene, my body unstable
I bend, I unwind, as maggots tear away,
I try to move, I try to die, but my body shall always stay

I will soon be nothing but bones
Still bearing fleshy undertones,
With every fibre hollowed within
Arises an echo of all my sins
Etched, undying, on my tombstones

Still, I trust God when times are tough
And let the sun rise and the night fall
But no winds could ever be winnowing enough
There are no winds at all

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Some Love For Food

Times are old and frail,
Since my eyes blessed upon, 
Your feline strutting under
A night sky, ahead of sun rise 

How my fingers devoured, 
Your darling strands of silk 
As your crystal black orbs 
Gazed into mine 

Fed you lots, I did 
What delight could surpass,
than seeing you grow,
How sweet, how plump,
How inexplicably tempting 

But my eyes still twinkle,
At hours of memories’ reel
Your love for me
(or for food)
As you would run unto me,
So, you may curl up 
Into your finest dreams,
Oblivious 

It took a day of incense,
From a little devil of some sort-
Perhaps you saw your chance-
For your teeth to sink into 
My thumb that caressed you 

And so, I left you to long,
It wasn’t long before you strung,
The harps of your voice, my way
A pity I couldn’t sense then,
I could ease you from 
Your deepest threats right then 

Now you’re gone,
Escaped into the night,
From my desperate hold,
Void of a reason 
Or a sign 

It pains for I know not,
Where you have now wound up,
Yet what could pain more when 
After all the grooming, you may 
Have fetched up-
Stir-fried- against
The plates of hungry men 
Whom I’ve so wished 
To be one of…

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Reel

This is a feeling unlike any
Like poison in a fruit of scent,
With memories a tad too many,
All too bittersweet to give vent 

Like poison in a fruit of scent,
Thoughts of school years pass by
All too bittersweet to give vent,
Or to let go without a cry

Thoughts of school years pass by,
A girl refuses to give up,
Or to let go without a cry,
The chances to be tuned up

A girl refuses to give up,
She loses, all too soon,
The chances to be tuned up,
Her fate's in a cocoon

She loses, all too soon,
Till today, for her mind's elsewhere
Her fate's in a cocoon,
She feels too few minutes to spare

Till today, for her mind's elsewhere,
The moments of the now flit
She feels too few minutes to spare
And nostalgia, they call it

The moments of the now flit,
With memories a tad too many,
And nostalgia, they call it,
This is a feeling unlike any

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Sweet Dreams

I lay on my right arm,
My left puts you to rest,
My chin on your head,
And your body to my chest

You moan when the air
So much as shifts around
Don't worry my dear
We are both safe and sound

Your breath remains rapid,
I get you're still learning
To take a breath outside my dome
You're still under my wings

Let's learn to count together
One, two, three, 
Learn to breathe with every number,
The stars are here to see

Your breath slows down,
And your arms go limp,
I leave a kiss on your forehead,
And you curl up like a shrimp

I shift to see your face,
For my right arm starts to ache,
Where you once were, ashes prevail
And in reality I lie awake

Details | Fareeha Fareej Mohamed Poem

Two Streaks

Two streaks mark my week,
Claw at my lungs, skies look bleak,
Cast me down a viral inferno!
Fahrenheit 105 but without the yellow

Fever and dilemmas poison my bones
Echoes of madness within their hollows
I hit the hay early and the sun rays burn weak
My eyes sting with nakedness until it’s time to eat

Two days for two streaks, I shall sacrifice 
Misery and slumber, and as if they don’t suffice,
Pending decisions tap their feet along the corridors
They tighten my chest more than a virus could afford

The two days pass but the two streaks remain
I say I feel normal but the rotting’s to stay
Behind locked doors, four walls caked with life,
They seem to get closer as each day passes by

My corridors still await some certainty,
Prayers could never agree or disagree,
Hemingway and Vandermeer, no matter how well read,
Fail to resolve, not even sitting well in my head

Even as the ticking rings in my ear,
Behind the hour hand, my patience disappears,
They say to chug it all down, wipe my tears,
There is phlegm even cough syrups couldn’t clear

Two streaks refuse to leave
They wish to behold a tragedy
One that begins with ambition,
And ends with a fallacy

So for a year so uncertain,
I brewed a cauldron of posies,
Raised a goblet to my fate,
And the plague my mind embodies