why do we have to get a title for every poem?

f**k you,title

After painting my nails

with my brother's crayon

who's in third standard

Can you believe it

I searched the whole Anarkali,

the Pace,the downtown for this colour

and they said they dont keep it

because no one wants to wear

this dirty green

and be conspicuous

perhaps people like to hide

or vanish in backgrounds

but this muck green,now on my nails

is so shocking,you cant wear it and remain unnoticed

and after all that searching

i found it in my brother's paint box

a stub of a crayon

Ali has used this colour so much

he's strange like me

now im using ali's crayon to draw something below

my belly button

perhaps an arrowed heart

(chlorine green)

or a tree or a pigeon or something abstract like life

and this year.

I liked last year better

because i had a lots of firsts then,

i mean it was pretty happening

i lost my virginity,learnt how to cook

got recruited in a big university then had my first abortion,

Someone introduced me to Tori Amos

and i realised im a cornflake girl

but like every average cornflake girl

i think im the raisin one.

This year isn't going to be like

last one,

its gonna be a lost cause almost,

titleless

but im gonna keep shocking my Anatomy viva teachers

wearing obnoxious colours on my nails

pretending

I didn't happen to this year

and this poem never happened to me

and that i can think of a title to everything

and that at the end of this year im still going to be nineteen

Reviews

[Tim]

Always a river of emotions and ideas. Your such a true poet.
Favorite line: I didn't happen this year. I can always depend on giving you a 100.

[Khaaki]

wow... sahar, you are amazing again... with our eyes we can see others but we never get to peep into our own self... and it comes right from the heart... well... you have shot me from point blank range again... mabrook...

[.]

a melting pot of ideas and abstract thoughts woven together to delight - laughed indeed!!

[Jibey]

Ahh... it just pours out of you... like a rice pudding from the pot into the bowl, or chicken soup with all the bits plopping down and splattering, like... well, you know how it is... How we struggle to make out our identity and I'm not sure that even a green arrow pointing south really gets to the bottom of it, if you see what I mean...

[paul]

unique. stunning at times. wholly human

' i didn't happen to this year' - bravo !! a staggering line of poetry!! - truly remarkable. what a line !

[.]

. your relentless search to find yourself and define yourself ... will ultimately lead to your knowledge of yourself as a human being and as a writer ...

. if i ever have a daughter ... i'd hope that she doesn't have to go through the trauma of an abortion at any age ... but more than that ... i hope i am there for her enough for her to be able to express it ...

. you must express yourself ... you are the voice of millions ... and your voice is being heard and will be heard even more ...

[abhas]

you sometimes leave nothing more to say... the fire in this is too vicious ... this is like 'shocking your anatomy teachers'... but well... as Ed Hart said... we do need a title... its more acceptable thats why... or i for one cant smell people apart...
yet that does not change the fact that your poem is still beautiful with the expressions that you use so well... :)

[emmajoy]

This just flows in its originality, so many wonderful thoughts sifting their way through your phrases .. 'or a tree or a pigeon or something abstract like life' -
However, 'wondering how often we can alter the titles but can't alter the happenings - it's like the chicken and the egg .. after you, no .. after you!

A great poem, an embroidery using different stitches ..

[Ed Hart]

yeah, an' why do we have to name people, we could just smell 'em apart