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
Restarts the sound.
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.