Mercedez Holtry – “Trapped Room” (IWPS 2014)

Button Poetry Channel on YouTube is one my favorite Channels that I have ever come across . A day can not go without watching a new mind blowing video from thee amazing talented poets and I learn so many things from them.I am glad to have discovered this  beauty of art , it is so beautiful, raw and everything. ❤

Today I want to share this mind blowing, powerful and beautiful poem called “Trapped Room” from Mercedez Holtry

Do enjoy!

The Writer’s Block


The Writer’s Block

It is like being trapped in a hole

So dark, you can’t see anything

You want to scream your lungs out

For someone to come to your rescue

But you are afraid because not everyone understand that feeling

You keep telling yourself that it is okay

Just to hush the voices in your head

You count the days, days became months

Nothing is okay, because you cannot do something you dearly love

And you are in the corridors of uncertainty whether to give up or not

Because the hole keeps getting darker and seem more deeper

It hurts so much and I don’t want to be trapped in this hole anymore

I want to see light and write and be whole again

For the past months I have been battling, beating myself trying so hard to do my very best, but time to time I failed and disappointed myself because I could not write. It was like something is blocking my creative thoughts, it’s like they are frozen or something. I would sleep late at night staring at the blank pages in my book, and wake up in the morning just to stare at the very same blank pages again, trying to win the battle. It is a feeling filled with anger and frustration and by writing this I wanted to open up to myself. To try and describe how is like when  the one thing that you deeply enjoy doing(writing) and love so whole-heartedly , you slowly start to feel disconnected to , but with time things do get better and I feel like I am slowly winning the battle these days.

(c) Bonolo Bridget Nkoketsang, 2015

Picture : Myself


I close my eyes with guilt

I sleep with numbed heart

Wish I could have been there for you

I wake up with fear

Fear, of not knowing how you really felt

For I would never have the time to thank you properly

For your love, kindness and friendship

You left me with this sinking feeling I cannot describe

With the memories of you and I

That hold hostage of me every night

Some replaying like a beautiful movie

Us being lead characters

You were the precious rose

Inside my golden garden

With a scent that left

Unforgettable trails

Trails I now wish to follow

And lead me to where you at

Wish I could stop these tears

From falling from my eyes

But I cannot

Because remembering that I would never see your face

Butcher my heart into pieces

If we were to meet in my dreams

I would beg you to stay

I would beg you to give me one moment

To just be with you

To smile and laugh our last laughs’ at nothingness

To tease and praise each other

Like we always did

I would beg you to stay my friend

For one more chance to say goodbye

Keep sleeping so well P Girl

To my dearest lovely friend P, i wrote this poem the other day regretting how I may have not understood your pain maybe is because you smiled lot, so i thought you are okay, like you always said ” I am okay, Bonolo”.  Still trying to understand why you, such a strong soul more than I. Keep resting well, its been 5 years now. I dearly miss you friend. 😦


I look into the mirror

I see someone different

Someone I am ashamed to look at

I then sloppily lower my eyes down

I look again, it aggressively break apart

Its pieces scattering everywhere

Leaving blood of pain

And scares as a reminder

Splitting my life into halves:

The Before and the After

I looked at the left pieces

Just to be broken apart

By me fading beauty

by: Bonolo. B Nkoketsang (2014)

Roses by Mia McInnis


We Are But Roses
Petals And Thorns
In Our Minds.
Cutting, Bleeding
Red As Blood
Comfort Fining
In Each Bud.

The roots reach down
The leaves reach out
The thorns protect us
From our doubts.

We Are But Roses
Both Strong And Small,
Here In This World
Our Garden Wall.
Each Is Different
Intertwine –
We Are But Roses
In Our Minds.


As My Heart Whispers

The Sense Of Loneliness Deepens

The World Curls Itself Around My Fingers

Orbiting Around My Past

Reflecting On The Good And Bad

That I Ever Done On This Earth


As My Heart Whispers

Thoughts Occupy My Mind

Memories Float Along With Locked Secrets

Regrets Weigh Heavily, Insecurities Inflame

With No Mask To Hide Them

Clearly Happiness Is Not Mine To Own


As My Heart Whispers

Fear Adulterate My Soul

Tears Assassin My Voice

The Power Of Silence Erupts

Leaving Me, Miserable As A Sin

Facing My Own Darkness

With Fading Dreams…!




Born In 1988, Warsan Shire Is A Kenyan-Born Somali Poet Who Currently Lives In London . She Is A  Writer ,Artist and Activist Who Uses Her Work To Document Narratives of Journey and Trauma.

I Describe Her Poetry As Plain, Fresh and Rare Because Of Her  Well Eloquence and Wisdom That Is Beyond  Her Years, With Lines That Hover and Linger For Weeks.I’ve Read Amazing Poems On Her Blog and Since Then I Fell Completely In Love With Work.

Today I Want To Share One Of My Favourite Poem UGLY from Her Book” Teaching my Mother How To Give Birth”



Your daughter is ugly

she knows loss intimately

carries whole cities in her


As a child relatives wouldn’t hold her

she was splintered wood and sea water

They said she reminded them of the war


On her fifteenth birthday you taught her

how to tie her hair like rope

and smoke it over burning frankincense


You made her gargle rosewater

and while she coughed, said

macaanto girls like you shouldn’t smell

of lonely or empty


You are her mother

Why did you not warn her

and hold her like a rotting boat

and tell her that men will not love her

if she is covered  in continents,

if her teeth are small colonies,

if her stomach is an island

if her thighs are borders?


What man wants to lay down

and watch the world burn

in his bedroom?


Your daughter ‘s face is a small riot

her hands are a civil war,

a refugee camp behind each ear,

a body littered with ugly things



doesn’t she wear

the world well


by: Warsan Shire


A Link To Her Book :

Enjoy 🙂

Good day


“Sad people hav…

“Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else; they remain stagnant, their bodies refusing to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.”

Warsan Shire


Alone i keep thinking

Alone i keep praying

Alone i keep dreaming

Alone i keep waiting

Alone i keep wishing

Alone i keep hoping

Alone i keep wondering

Alone i am scared

Alone i am terrified

Alone i am ashamed

Alone i am hurt

Alone i am disappointed

Alone i feel pain

Alone i feel worthless

Alone i feel unloved

Alone i feel dead

Alone i cry and smile

Alone i fear

Alone i write poems