Loss of judgment, was it the departure of my thoughts? The reckless train keeps moving on With a passenger stranded No ticket, no luggage, Sitting on the bench is a hollow cauldron The ride to the station The steps to the platform All was staged by someone else. The passenger had arrived at the stop assigned; It was not her stop. She looked for the exit door; It doesn’t exist – read the sign. There is no train back; The train forward left. Was she left behind? Commuters buzze

I saw a mystic today, She reminded me of you. The curls of her hair, Reminded me of the waves over your chest Curtains over your bare breasts, they fall. Her hollow cheeks, Like the craters of your smile, Hint starvation. The empty bowl in her hand urged me to fill it, Like your arms seek my embrace, I cannot satisfy the hunger of either. The grains I carried, Spilled on the ground as she fell in front of me, Someone threw a stone at her. The sight of her naked skin, Was too

I waited as you told me to. I waited by the windowpane and kept a firm eye on today: today’s skies, the present moment’s beauties, never the moments that  have left me or the ones yet still to reach me. But it has almost been a year since you stood at the tip of the tent outside my home, separated by the glass of my enclosure, and watched the day break anew alongside me. I kept your lessons close to my heart, and I never did forget you. I waited as you told me to. I waited fo

I got my ticket I am on my way In the train to nowhere. Got in the economy class The one-seater assigned to one Behind is the local birth With the seats assigned to push and pull. Crumbled up, I adjusted my bag in the compartment overhead Into neat squares all other bags were fit in But mine was too stuffed Too empty it was maybe For it wouldn’t fit the square shape above I pushed it in, But the waves, the rough edges Didn’t settle with the right angles The tall lady beside m

The sound fills my ears, at once loud and gentle. The sound of your waves inching toward the sand. It drowns out everything else but not in a way that numbs the senses or pierces through peace. No, not at all. Your sound moves too slowly, And too melodically, to disturb me at all. You are a musician without even trying. With every wave and hint of seafoam, with every glimpse at your unflinching endlessness you remind me that you care for me, and for my sadness, but that there

Perhaps I don’t have to know where I’m going And for now it is enough that I’m not where I used to be These growing pains are draining me of all my energy I know that I am gravitating towards a transformation And it’s enough that I know, it doesn’t have to be an exhibition. There’s no point in telling everyone that I’m about to die When they will witness my rebirth in their own time. Bring me flowers when I am born anew. Drown me then with gifts and affection. For now, you ca

Careful constructions made of crystal and glass Held up by hopes and prayers Ready to topple over, ready to change Morph into something new, something more saccharine We are all barely held together here. Wisps of fluffy white cotton falling within The house is so empty its full of nothingness You wake up and you’re ready to Throw pink linen sheets back and have your brown coffee With the shot of caramel You’re ready to put everything in the correct order To reflect that you

Emily Dickinson died 134 years ago, having lived out her last years in complete solitude. She had asked her family to burn her poetry because she did not want the world to see it. After her death, her sister Lavinia opened a wooden chest and inside, poems upon poems upon poems. Her family went on to publish them, and now we have them with us today, to read, to learn from, to cry over, as all good poetry incites strong emotion. Let’s jump to the present day. Me. I am 18 years

Ngoc Nguyen On November 2nd, 2018, Words&Strings collaborated with Georgetown Music, Arts, and Culture Club to host its Words of November Open Mic. I am delighted to reflect on my experience working with the W&S team and see their vision of a meaningful poetry and music platform came to life right here on our campus. All photos courtesy of Words&Strings. Taken by Tariq Al-fatieh @tariq_alfatieh. As a poet and musician, Words and Strings has provided a safe and open place for