Here are two poems from my, as yet unpublished pamphlet on domestic violence:

SIGNS OF HIS PRESENCE

Kitchen door dented
where your ex flew off the handle
at the slightest.

Your ears attuned

to strange cars in the cul-de-sac.

Twitch
open curtains, check.

You could not
 say his name for six months
after
 you told him to go.

SAFETY

Dumb-bell by her bedside.

Under her pillow baseball bat.
Knives on surfaces
lead poker on landing,
Knives sharp,
dumb-bell heavy
as stories of his holding
frying-pan above her head
to make his point,

He is here…
waits…
for her to be alone
to bring him out

-Paul Brookes

-Neal Zetter

 

Women are abused all over the world. Causes are launched to counter this injustice. Today the society is still the same as hundreds of years ago…will it get any better …no acid throwing, no gang rapes, no forced labour… some lines some thoughts

It’s a girl,
O’hurry put her beneath the sand
Oh, no one can stand or understand
this creature, soft and tender
I wonder why ?when life is so grand.
Girls, mothers daughters
sisters and wives,
Can life move on without these five?

The land of Faith The land of oil
Did they really bury their daughters
alive? Girls are the lively spirits
of a home or castles at heights
girls are Goldilocks Cinderellas
and Snow Whites
They are Queens Ranis and First ladies
blacks or whites-

When girls are born moods are forlorn
bringing up a burden in a teacup , a storm,
Then sold tortured and finally given away
Where is a girl’s real home, to stay?

Born buried and barred,
are they really so bad
and scarred?

Girls are sweet loving and kind
I wish we would be soft tender
and caring for them
in our hearts and mind.

=Anjum Wasim Dar

Here’s an as yet unpublished poem of mine, dedicated to all those undergoing domestic abuse, even more so due to the lockdown in the pandemic.

Whispering Breath

I’ve not told you everything he did to us.
(whispering breath)
Why I’m sat on edge
of bed using upstairs phone.
Got to speak quietly.
My fault.
He keeps telling me
(conspiratorial breath)
I caused it
by what I did.
(questioning breath)
Is it something in me that’s at fault?’
Have l something wrong with me?
Am I a good person?
 I’m afraid of him. What he might do
If I do this or the other.
I have no feeling for him.
(accusatory breath)
He says I’ve made the Love go.
He threatens me
because this is the only way
to
get it back.
I’m terrified, love.
(weeping breath)
Doesn’t lack of love mean more love needs to be given, not hate?
(angry breath)
He likes Old Testament. ‘Eye for an eye … ‘
calls himself Christian.
Knows the Bible off by heart.
Laughs at my attempts
 to read it and so argue against him,
(determined breath)
Each person’s got to be responsible for themselves.

-Paul Brookes

As a Reader my name and photo in this pamphlet on National Reading Day Pakistan 2018

My Poem on Love of Reading
Time for Our Bedtime Story

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
what are you doing up there so far
Come down it’s so dark in here
Light up my room,so we can play

All I see is my thin cloth doll
lazy and sleepy as the toy clock
donkey, going ‘tick tock’ tick tock’
as I count the roses on my frock

The Dwarfs are waiting and so
is Alice, Mr Rabbit hurried off
in a hurry, ‘Come Home Uncle
It’s time for our bedtime story-

Sister Sister wake up sit up
I hear the ringing of the cycle bell
Uncle is coming ‘Count Dracula’s
story he promised to tell–

and so it was before I could read
I heard about Adam and Noah’s Flood
Count Dracula ‘n The Killer Hound
on the Moors, Baskervilles, in cold blood.

Horror was exciting mystery surprising
spooky ghosts roaming in the cemetery
was good to hear,but then Uncle went away-
lonely- I picked a book of pictures and poetry

Travels began to Treasure Island with
Long John Silver,one legged,one eyed
One wheeled, nothing was as it seemed’
all upside down talking singing and tied

Gnomes Fairies and Gulliver I liked best
Giants and Jack and the Beanstalk green
then went to London to see the Queen
and asked Billy Boy’ where have you been?

Time passed as fancy fairies flew away
Princes and Princesses came to stay, with
witches in castles cackling’n casting a spell
locked were Rapunzel Gretel and Hansel.

I loved fairy tales poems and rhymes
and I could read but books were restricted
Ali Baba Tom Cinderella were the topics
along with classics I read Cartoon Comics

Soon I was out of the fairy tale realm
Jane Eyre I read a number of times
found myself crying on the pillow
No more rhymes no songs to follow

Yet with time and many pages read
wizards elves rabbits are not all dead
they live in my heart and sing and smile
help me write new stories in a new style.

All my reading has made up this poem
honor to Dr Susan and All Poets United
keep reading, you too, a writer poet will
be, and the world will surely be delighted.

And now I write for the love of reading
I hope they are good stories and leading.

-Anjum Wasim Dar