Monthly Archives: January 2017

The Heartbreaker Poem by Bianca Phipps (Poem#3)

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Nerdy Talks

The Heartbreaker Poem

by Bianca Phipps

One. Your father speaks of his youth with revelry; spills his life across the table like an overturned drink covering everything. Your mother, doesn’t speak. Any stories of her premarital life come from your father’s mouth. He speaks of how he tamed her, saved her from a life of reckless abandon; clipped her wings to keep her from flying too close to the sun, but Icarus would’ve just as soon drowned than burned, and the silence in your mother’s mouth is a salt water darkness. She does not speak up to defend herself.

Even now, years after their divorce your father’s voice can fill a room and your mother still makes space for it. When your mother teaches you not to be swallowed she is already sitting in the belly of the beast she once loved. You wonder if she has grown to love…

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Love and Misery

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Some people never lay a hand on you but still leave a bloody trail. We brush it under the name of “love” and smile. Who said love has to leave us bruised and crushed in misery? Love isn’t supposed to break us. Love is supposed to make us. And if you’re love is breaking you down, constantly, then it’s time to reconsider.

Native in a foreign land

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“I’m from Pakistan.”, I say and my gut suddenly starts to churn. I’m anxious about how they will react. So I search for signs that show their discomfort.
“Phaa-kiss-taan” someone pronounces. I’ve always hated how the lips come together like they’re breathless when they take the name of my homeland.
“Yes, Pakistan”, I nod.
I’m labelled even before I tell them that my country is not all bombs and barbarians.
This label I did not ask for.
My passport is green and my language originates from Arabic and Persian. I’m a mix of cultures but they define me with words that I abhor just like them.
“Isn’t that where they caught Bin Laden?” they ask and I nod.
I want to say, “aren’t you the ones who made Bin Laden?” but I nod and look at the floor. My heart bleeds red, just like the hispanic man who sits across from my table. But he’s afraid of the wall that Trump is going to build and I’m afraid that one of these days someone will jump my nephew and I won’t be able to do anything about it.
There is a lot I want to tell the world as I skip continents. Make way through paper planes and travel roads that lead nowhere.
“No, bombs and barbarians are not the synonyms to define me”
“I am the courage of a nation still standing even when the world said that it can’t stand a day on its own.”

Love in the 90’s

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When I was 8
A boy in my class gave me a book
Of rhymes
He said he loved me
And decided to give me something
That I liked
Poetry
 
Back then
I didn’t know much about love
Except for a word tossed around
To make people happy
So I told him to rhyme something with it
He didn’t
I said
I love you too
And it rhymed
 
You see I liked the way two words
Came
Together
Different but with the same sound
At the end
Sort of like this
I love you
I love you too
And it makes all the difference