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ARTicles | Sowaibah Shahbaz

Explore artwork, prose and poetry by our students...

Sowaibah Shahbaz is an MSc Student in Modern South Asian Studies, and here shares with us a series of images and texts.


Like an unknown birth the night is thick and long

Volatile whales of sounds swim the ocean blind much is ongoing, pulsing around.

Smell of crisp asleep eternally deep seas; trees swell weep relaxing in whispers abound.

The goons, gays and girls thrust hips, tips Queen come to stay, slay her sapphire crown.

Blue tongues un-Dangling gold earrings, reggae stretches bodies, loneliness wearing entering lurking down

Wet cheeks hips lips taste of metal in mouth blazing joints Absinthe’s third round.

How many do we slaughter with love, dashing boys with flowers

A weakness in town.

Downtown the girls glow in the funk of being alive as themselves

There is no promise of tomorrow

A shift drip of white, 4am

Clinking of metal before fire

City lulls in silence

I breathe

Restarts the sound.

A prairie

In a prairie a dark cow wiggles her warm nose.

Dreamless grass snores with all places to go

Far away, an Akuma is pleased as the rush of sugar canes makes him human again

A hummingbird bids farewell to her beautiful song as she chooses to bathe in the briny rain.

Here, just for now no creed or assignment only warmth of Revel’s melody alongside Chopin.

This place spins with lilies with no ladder to climb.

The children lay to rest all soldiers;

all resolve no crime of time.

A prairie with the dawns and drums veiled by rows of columbine.

Bespoke to burn

When the stars align and I need the day

Lay awake no longer feeling the pain

Nor here not there no asks for love

Subsumed in a space hollow like a glove

Simple gentle reigns of a dove.

How can this be I’m away and here

Pleasure ringing precarious ears for a lonesome year;

The age of war, docile bones and quiet nights

Homeless birds in blues, sky bearing no kites.

The childhood I knew the places I flew

What does it mean when swords I drew

The lines jotted don’t speak the truth.

I am here now, ankles raised from ground

Let the flower age in silence away from sound

Waltz with captain to stars a mild stunning sun

Will it make the cut, will I lay ablaze?

Will it happen the way embers raise with grace

as they bespoke to burn.

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