Sweat beads upon my brow, my shirt begins to cling/ The vile monster's tendrils reach out, adhesive

Time has not forgiven him for his racist and imperialist views

I've seen love/ Rolling down from a mother's eyes/ As she picks her lean child, bathed in innocent blood

like a caterpillar cocooned into its shell undergoing metamorphosis—growing up sneaks up to you whether you want it or not

We have built a civilisation / of sky-high buildings, / of concrete cities, / of disconnected communities

While leaving the institute, a nurse gave me a packet of cigarettes as a token of friendship

go further than/ what the hills have seen/ through their ice pick scars

In myself I find her  She knows me better than myself 

I am a poet because you love me

In my deep sleep, you came, my love—

“I sing the song of equality– Of a country where fresh joy blossoms in every heart

As we continue to grapple with questions of identity, meaning, and societal change, Blake's visionary oeuvre serves as a guiding light

Smith’s framing runs into the same blind spot in other criticisms levelled at student protests, i.e. it detaches the student’s cause from the activists, academics, and journalists, Palestinian or otherwise, who have been documenting Israel’s settler colonial project for 75 years.

When there’s a lull in the air, I get the feeling that I’ve scraped the bottom of my fleshy insides.

Dust patterns have gathered around my landline phone, huddling around the maroon. my fingerprints take some dust off of it, and they rejoice.

The mosque committee was quite displeased with Rashed, their young muezzin.

You called me close in the moments of grace/ Veiling my delicate senses

You know how that day the wind brought out/ The crazy thoughts I had in me all the while.

I wove necklaces of lyrics/ Which you'd wear beautifully

The English poet W.B. Yeats once expressed his profound admiration for Rabindranath Tagore, describing him as “someone greater than any of us”.