I am tired, My being, haggard, worn, needs solace. Despite the passion Of those fingers, That make every pore Sing for more, My soul cries out, Wailing Woefully, For release. I am defenceless, My body, open, Responsive, wants satiation. Despite the fervour Of your love, Which leaves me longing Craving for peace, My soul sulks away Wilting Willingly, Until freedom. By Rabab Khan

Mortal Coil

Oh, to lie beneath the stars!Permit the echoes,Silence blows my way,Soothe and calmMy inner world.Unlike the hum,From treasured dreams,Of splinters embeddedIn my soul. Oh, to lie on the clouds!Let the softness,Of non existence,Heal and mendMy worn spirit.Unlike the abrasiveSlash and cutOf taboos chafingAgainst my heart. Oh, to lie today!And be allowed to lieFor ever more.

Poetry collection Rabab


Scream: collected poems Edited by Jewels Johnson The general consensus in the world of publishing is that people don’t want to read poetry any more. Publishers have canonized dead poets and then laid them to rest. Gravestones adorn the shelves of every mainstream bookshop. Meanwhile, the new poets, the new voices have been stifled, reduced to a muffled cry from beyond the catacombs. They are screaming…