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Best Poems Written by Lina Alfahad

Below are the all-time best Lina Alfahad poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

'And How Does That Make You Feel?'

The pages meet my fingertips again
Tenderly guiding the ink, as if it were rotten bile
Channelling all away

To minimal change of my world
The illusory script does not function
To the disappointment of myself and the happiness of others
And again to my bewilderment.
The room spins even though.

A dumb look washes over my face or it must have
Reality pixelates and I feel a weight at the side of my head
Up and down it nods as if opening up the plates
Ripping apart the fabrics with a sickening tear
One that plays a sweet discordant melody,

I grip the fruit infront of me
It secretes black ink that stains all,
Faux grass in between the toes, infront of a square sunset
Smothered in a blue lens,

Chunks of stuck food appear in the line of sight
Punches and stabs and what feels like betrayal
Too many words entered the ear
Removing the eye of the hurricane I float in
Drawing it back in where it does not exist
Impossible but the best course of action anyway

Deserved, echoing throughout
Truth mixes with it, alkaline
Yet still only serving to increase my pain.
The swirling parts ever so slightly in my mind
As the mantra repeats.
Not more than they say,
The glass ceiling never being broken.
Be kinder. Be more assertive.

Orders taken and meals thrown
Up into the mind the storm halts.
And the pen glides still,
Soul, guts and heart,
Empty and raw.

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Night time again. I ask for god to forgive me.
An hour passes, I blink.
I see myself in the reflection of my eyes.
Pages sit on my bed, unwritten, I don’t dare touch them
So they may remain complete in incompletion.
I shiver and heave at the thought.

Two more hours pass and I have touched them now.
I sip at the powder-infused drink, warm and empty in my hands.
I see myself in the reflection, I wonder if I have done well this time.
Thoughts sit in my mind, untouched, but lurching constantly.
I don’t dare touch them
So they may remain incomplete in completion.
I preen at the prospect.

Two more hours have passed now.
I still have not touched anything else, I cannot say the same for them.
I rest my head but my eyes remain permanently open.
I see myself in the mirror.
They echo.
I write more furiously, thinking, like an idiot,
that seeing them will make me less scared,
that other people seeing them will make it seem less real.
Dream-like alternatives seem like a blink away,
I sift through the excuses and fantasies, each better than the last,
Each a new way to mask the happenings of my world.
I go for my phone.

Four more hours have passed now and light hasn’t stopped.
But nothing but dopamine has infiltrated my blood, sickening,
in the most pleasing way.
It’s effective, to say the least. Tiredness sits on my brain,
I don’t dare touch it.
I finish my work with shaking fingers,
my soliloquy is more of a speech,
and I no longer entertain the prospect of my known audience,
Instead I prefer the masses, seeing the actor spinning and crashing behind the glass screen, Oh so precious.
I press save on the document and close the light infront of me,
Leaving my reflection.
I no longer want to see myself. But others may see what I am, what I curate.
Peace will come tonight. I take a sip.

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Hands

Slime covers esily
It’s engulfing, digesting
Like an acid dissolving with a noticeable hiss
Diffusing into the brain

And just not leaving, Never leaving
It spreads from the handprint
It dampens the cloth and drips

I shuffle

The apology reaches my ears after
But the smirk that is thrown churns my stomach
I have an urge too,
To let me throw my insides
On a cycle above 60 degrees

Let me ruin myself
Make me
Not even a chance to say no before
And now I’m just tired

It follows constantly
The colour of the shirt, the skin
Hands, hands, hands, hands
Tall, too tall

I should be grateful they didn’t.
Shouldn’t I?
I now leave a trail to follow
tainting everything, or is it tint?

The urge keeps growing
Unfortunately I’m not the only one

I just hate hands, I think

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Love and its victims

The silence that envelops,
Only when peaceful,
When my heart is full enough to sleep,
Filled with the newest memories.
They are sported like new technology,
Not so limited, but loved and invested.
And I do not even dwell if I am loved because it is known.

I love them, and the word,
Love,
Is not used flippantly like those around me.
It is purer than life itself,
And it travels across my body,
Intravenous in the way is swallows me whole.
And there is no word known better to describe my obsession.

Who cares if I may see them everyday,
That their names will always remain on my mind,
All I care is that my heart still beats enough
To see them everyday.
Their laughs, hugs, nervous touches, smiles,
Gazes and dependency, it drives my heart as if
It were laced with nicotine.

Because they make me smile,
Among little in the world that is happy,
They are like pre-made lunches and fresh carnations,
Like sunflowers and washed clothes,
So clean and genuine.
Things I would have taken for granted,
I now cherish every second, because I love them.

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Silent Pining

My heart is closed again,
Croaking with but a beat to stay alive.
It is angry, cramped.

It is remorseful,
Now scared of the possibilities,
Of false ties and
Infarct seeping once reflected.

It is drunken,
Longing to say soaking,
To inflate and explode in waves,
Clawing at it’s enclosure.

It is confused,
What are these ties?
The string woven over each other,
Wrapping and complex and unintelligible.
Elder fingers could not have the insight
Into a tale as known as this one.

My heart wants to know who you are,
But it aches still,
As my brain absorbs our string,
And it spits out Morning Glory.

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Moving what I like

Fabrics are sown
So eyes are drawn to quieter things
Softer

Scratching isn’t as unbearable as screaming
I wield control to my ears
Over the entry of theirs too
Better than taps

Pressure, expected,
Is not that intense
Leaning, relying, assisting

Mostly whispers cannot escape me
My ears with a constant ache
My head tries to convey my heart
Yet they say I cannot expel it to the outside

So the frog turns into a lion
And I cannot breathe
My intensity builds up
And it clots my heart

Eyes, eye
I don’t care, get it off me
The screams around me speak my name
Don’t they

Let me scratch more of my thoughts
The paper grows worn
And my feelings do too
Understand me

I do not want to attempt
to communicate
But your mocks make me overthink
My stomach churns the thought of my incompetence

I cannot talk,
So it’s my fault, really

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Tock

Trying, tripping, tanking, toil,
Typical of my intellect’s termination.
Trinkets are tied to incompetence,
those are the twisted tips of my mother.
As I travel closer to toe the top,
I toy with the seconds that tick by.

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

New Revelation

Spillage on my picture,
Dark black creature,
Now you can see the
White lines, purple, either.
Running up my arms like a suture, churning
Piercing gaze through the dark, hurting,
In and out like quick breath, blurting,
But all I don’t see front is certain,
Bright like medic hand, mine or my brand,
But all I understand is draw the curtains.

Details | Lina Alfahad Poem

Consultation

I have asked before, though you may not know,
About how to deal with the difficulties you strain me with.

My own adventure for my true soul has begun,
And so I must make all a witness,
Or the proof will be my execution, and I will not
let my ancestor’s shacklers hold me down once more,
years of lost maidenhood that I will protect through my will.
And so I turn for advice on my self-discovery.

I ask one of my trusted,
Querying endlessly on the matters of my heart,
Oh how I want to crush it under the weight
Of the world, all I want to carry at your feet.
I shortly resort to hatred, petty and undefined,
worse than weak in its nature.
My trusted’s breath lies heavy on the mind, weary,
And they say to lead with the beats, and I must follow.
To which I note. Any internal protest at the future betrayal, of which
I know I will commit, comes quick and leaves quicker.

I ask my lawyer,
I ask of how to leave the thought of you behind,
And I ask another and another
And another and another
And I am scared I have destroyed my adventure,
As I stare into my reflection and do not see my true desired

When your name leaves my lips,
And the word from my very tips,
The ache grows too strong to supress.
And I have worked hard for my soul,
But the thoughts surround and consume me, blackening my mind like coal.
So if I must leave my heart behind to not depress,
I welcome the prospect like the widest gates of heaven.
I hate you, the you that does not know I have fallen,
And the you with the voice of songs and the spirit of angels,
The eyes of prisms and the warmth of hearth mantles.

I am leaving you behind, and as much as you magnetise me,
I will transform on my journey, and I will no longer orbit you as my soul gains the mass of love.

Best Poems Written by Lina Alfahad

'And How Does That Make You Feel?'

Melted Watermelon

The Prismatic Self

Hands

Love and its victims

Silent Pining

Moving what I like

Tock

New Revelation

Consultation