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#diaspora poetry
ijzelen-ijzel · 6 days
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“almond milk” April prompt from @nosebleedclub
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sirenofthegreenbanks · 8 months
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little-muses · 2 years
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Inherited Echoes
There are days when I remember The shtetl I’ll never see Great aunts and uncles I’ll never meet The dust and dark That choked my great-grandfather a coal miner the whispered prayers changed names the candles snuffed out
The hours weeks years spent pretending not to be
There are days I remember My own whispers The looks I got calling my father papa saying bracha before I ate refusing baptism with hands so small they could barely hold a pencil
I have inherited journeys years of wandering through deserts snowfields unfriendly cities I have inherited stories Songs of mourning bitter work hardship
But on those days when my great-grandparents’ voyage across oceans, across worlds feels closest I remind myself of the songs of joy of the challah recipes the prayers sung with voices loud and shaking, rejoicing
They never made it to the promised land they never got to see their candles standing proud on a shabbos table but I know they hear my voice now they see me on the bima holding the torah for all to see they rejoice with me in all our hardship
I have inherited journeys hardships sorrow but also the strength the joy the passion to stand up and keep walking
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soracities · 12 days
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Dunya Mikhail, Diary of a wave outside the sea (trans. Elizabeth Winslow and Dunya Mikhail) [ID'd]
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anonymousdandelion · 11 months
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after too long in exile
I hear Yiddish and feel immediately at home.
I hear Yiddish and the rhythms sound like family.
I hear Yiddish and my heart yearns for more.
I hear Yiddish feel Yiddish want Yiddish am Yiddish
I hear Yiddish and I do not understand a word.
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kafka-bug · 6 months
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Pet names are a persistent remnant of childhood, a reminder that life is not always so serious, so formal, so complicated. They are a reminder, too, that one is not all things to all people.
Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake
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childofnakba · 2 months
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O youthful heart
This poem is dedicated to Palestinians everywhere in Palestine and beyond, and it serves as a voice of comfort for myself as well.
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brother-emperors · 6 months
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ngl some people have bad opinions on the relatability of Dante’s Divine Comedy
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gender0bender · 11 months
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Kwame Dawes tells a story about a panel discussion on poetry and translation. A writer expresses her frustration about Russian poetry in translation, since taking it out of its original context affects the rhyme and meter. “How would you like to be kissed through a curtain?” Someone answers, “Better than not kissing at all.”
What attracts me to translation is its mediated, flawed nature, its human-ness. I tell my students that poetry is about deep listening. The poem is both a medium and a material/object of attention-making. The role of any poet is as a transcriber and a translator, wending through language’s essence. Poetry is for the immigrant child making their way across fractured landscapes, the artist forging trails into the unknown, the migrants traversing borders into an unfamiliar world. This wending, like Celan’s welding of words, brings us to the languagelessness of breath: pure poetry. Like kissing through a curtain and then lifting the veil to open up a new path.
- Kissing through a Curtain: Notes on Translation By J. Mae Barizo
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wrecklwj · 4 months
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a compliation of my writing for all the poems we’ve studied in poetry club! i’m all caught up yay
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ijzelen-ijzel · 2 months
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Dutch-American figure skater Dianne De Leeuw and poetry about diaspora and language
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sivavakkiyar · 4 months
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Naipaul, An Area Of Darkness
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diasporicstory · 9 months
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What of the children
Counted in eighths and fractions
In a world begging to be whole
Would we be chopped and skewered
And sent back to places
Or would we bind our eighths
And call them whole
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soracities · 1 year
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English is my native anguish.
Amit Majmudar, from “Vocative”
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coinywords · 28 days
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If we agree on the same lies, that makes us countrymen. --Bad Diaspora Poems Momtaza Mehri
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