Poet, playwright, director and lover of words
A sonnet for mothers on Mother's Day x Flying Carpet Persian with blue speckled songbirdsrising above delicate fruited trees,for my wedding, from my motherwith joy and silent beauty it lay on the floor of our home. Never stepped onand then you little feet and curious fingers,you always laughingrunning and stumblingon my flying carpet,delicate mud footprints.See… Continue reading Happy Mother’s Day
To Love Find (verb) ‘discover by chance or deliberately’;soul mate (noun) ‘person ideally suited to another’.Sky Trees 2017
Meeting YouCrossing the road hailinga bus lurching to myseat fumbling for a technicolour magazine,avoiding the violet smear of chewing gum and staringthrough the rain-fringedwindows; the consequenceof meeting youis near forgotten.Shereen Abdallah ©Sky Trees 2017
Street Giant Living on the street reduces you to scuttling on pavements with outstretched hat and stretched out smile. A young boy bounds up, puppy-energy; 'hello trouble'. A greeting given and received. You grow before me, vault the height of a giant, taller than sky-scrapped stars. Shereen Abdallah ©
A Sonnet for West Hampstead, from my 2017 collection 'Sky Trees' West Hampstead Tube Directly opposite the station sits a man, spotlit in blue and orange glow. He is tall and crumpled against the ground, cold, for heat rises, as you know; it reaches a bedsit, kettle boiled dry, the television flickers in mute. A… Continue reading West Hampstead Tube
Leaf falls A thought lodges tight within me, green tendrils wind around my heart, with every pulse it whispers apart, apart, apart. Shereen Abdallah ©
Hampstead Cemetery The budded words tickle the small of my back. Peep up to the sky, robin-egg blue, branch-speckled cloud the sun sinks low. and magpie chuckles below. Shereen Abdallah © As you are now so once was I; As I am now so you shall be (written on a park bench in Hampstead Cemetery)
ProfileThe girl’s features were so fine; when she stood side-onyou could see nothing but prickle-yellow flowersstretched below her feet,ice-tea sky behind her.Shereen Abdallah ©Sky Trees 2017
Poetic Despair There once was a student named Cher sunk low on a leather armchair. She wrote day and night of warrior might yet never poetic despair.Shereen Abdallah ©Sky Trees 2017
My life will be perfect ifI finish this poem.Scribble on life,wash the dishes, ponder the poem.E-mail an answer, scan the poem,think of the pans.Scrub the simile, wonder on time,forget the poem.Spam this poem,and my life might be perfect.Shereen Abdallah ©Sky Trees 2017
Bonnie Braw Press 