If you were married to yourself could you stay with yourself? My house would be frightening and wild. Loving someone who hates themselves is a special kind of violence. Yrsa Daley-Ward blends her West Indian (Jamaican) and West African (Nigerian) cultures beautifully in this collection, especially with her references to foods like Jollof rice, stereotypical Black woman mannerisms like eye-rolling and sucking of teeth etc. Most of the poems in bone have recurring themes of death, sex, family, relationships and Christianity. I enjoyed reading the long poems in this collection, as they read like short stories and were packed with lots of suspense and emotion! Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishingīone is a brilliant collection of poems. Yrsa Daley-Ward and Warsan Shire were on that list and I finally read their collections (e-books) a couple of months ago.īelow are two mini reviews of the poetry collections by two popular poets grabbing peoples’ attention in 2016. by Nayyirah Waheed, I listed a bunch of contemporary poets and my keen interest to enjoy their works in the near future. No one leaves home until home is a damp voice in your ear saying leave, run now, i don't know what i've become.Hey everyone! In my review of salt.
I want to go home, but home is the mouth of a shark home is the barrel of the gun and no one would leave home unless home chased you to the shore unless home tells you to leave what you could not behind, even if it was human. The dirty looks in the street softer than a limb torn off, the indignity of everyday life more tender than fourteen men who look like your father, between your legs, insults easier to swallow than rubble, than your child's body in pieces - for now, forget about pride your survival is more important.
No one would choose to crawl under fences, be beaten until your shadow leaves you, raped, then drowned, forced to the bottom of the boat because you are darker, be sold, starved, shot at the border like a sick animal, be pitied, lose your name, lose your family, make a refugee camp a home for a year or two or ten, stripped and searched, find prison everywhere and if you survive and you are greeted on the other side with go home blacks, refugees dirty immigrants, asylum seekers sucking our country dry of milk, dark, with their hands out smell strange, savage - look what they've done to their own countries, what will they do to ours? Who would choose to spend days and nights in the stomach of a truck unless the miles travelled meant something more than journey. Migrants hang onto flotation tubes in the sea after jumping from an overloaded wooden boat during a rescue operation 16 kilometres off the coast of Libya.
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