Mariyam Thahira

I think the best way to introduce myself would be to portray what makes me unique first. So, let me just say that unlike usual poets or writers who proudly declare how they’ve been in love with words since infancy (of course I exaggerated a little bit, but oh well..), I never had a passion for reading  until the age of twelve. It has just been two years since I started  writing, so yes, you’re dealing with an amateur here.
Other than literature I am fascinated by science, psychology, public speaking and religious studies to a great extent. I also try to inculcate some of those interests of mine into my literary works.
As far as my profession is considered, I’m just a student , aspiring to make a tiny difference in this big big world one day.
My favourite writers would be Khalid Hosseini, Umera Ahmed, Rupi Kaur and many many more. I personally prefer writings that deal with hardships of life in different parts of the world, cultural works, realistic ones and of course, non-fiction.
The most supportive people I’m grateful for are my parents, relatives, friends, teachers and the community of writers and readers I’ve befriended on various writing apps and websites. They’re the main reason you find me here. So a huge shout out to all of them! Most importantly, Alhamdulillah (All Thanks be To God) for teaching mankind the various parts of the art of communication, in our case, poetry.
Find out more about me through:
My Blog
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flowers-by-mariyam-thahira-photo-by-antonina-bukowskaPhoto credit: Antonina Bukowska


By Mariyam Thahira

So what if your past is ugly?
Derive lessons from every encounter,
and let them nourish further
the process of transforming thee
to who you aspire
to really be.

For, from the dirtiest
of mud, exclusively
do the most elegant
of flowers rise beautifully.

Edition XVI

Refugee's Plight - by Mariyam Thahira (photo by Tarek Roumie)Photo credit: Tarek Roumie

Refugee’s Plight

By Mariyam Thahira

Envision your land
that had nurtured flowers,
graceful and kind-hearted,
suddenly being invaded
by insects, of sympathy, devoid.

Envision the peaceful doves,
who above thee once flew,
being shot indiscriminately.

Envision the sky which was once permeated
with rainbows, brightly tinted,
abruptly being confined
by clouds, rayless and cold,
that sprinkle bombs without any end.

Envision the fresh grassy garden
where you first cherished the scent of rain,
being converted into a graveyard,
of memories that can never be recreated.

Envision those mighty walls,
who protection to you: guaranteed
and a safe haven: offered,
being effortlessly destroyed
as you watch through helpless eyes.

Envision yourself being forced
to safeguard your dear ones
despite the delicacy of your bones.

Envision your participation
in a warfare, sans another option,
as you defend an innocent nation,
unarmed, unprotected and unaided,
but with an invincible determination.

Every time your heart
refuses to defend refugees
remind yourself of this poetic art
that encourages your conscience
to envision their lives.

Edition XVII

Graveyard - by Mariyam Thahira (Photo by Ismael Nieto)Photo credit: Ismael Nieto


By Mariyam Thahira

“Life isn’t a bed”,
they said,
“of roses, red.”
“Instead,” I concluded,
“it’s a graveyard,
of souls.. dead,
absorbed in the activity
of destroying the rest,
of whatever humanity
is somewhat left.
For some people symbolise
They constantly crave
for corpses.”

Edition XVIII

Urban Loneliness - by Mariyam Thahira (Photo by Ajmal Cholakkal)Photo credit: Ajmal Cholakkal

Urban Loneliness

By Mariyam Thahira

Restless, I feel,
watching wings flutter,
birds soar,
leaves rustle,
and kids bustle,
beneath me.
Low, I often feel,
although at the highest floor,
do I actually reside.
Nature is away,
much beyond my touch,
maybe, that’s why.

Edition XXV

Raincloud - by Mariyam Thahira (Photo by Hoach Le Dinh)Photo credit: Hoach Le Dinh


By Mariyam Thahira

I could never understand

why I always preferred

to be the cloud of doom

that looms

over my loved one,

when I could’ve, instead,

burst open and released

all the pain

that I’ve been hiding for years

and relieved both of us

of the burden of my bottled emotions

that’s been blocking the path

through which that fine thread

of love used to traverse,

which connects both our hearts.

Edition XXIX

My Baby - By Mariyam Thahira (Photo by Annie Spratt)Photo credit: Annie Spratt

My Baby

By Mariyam Thahira

I nurse every emotion
that I get to experience
within the crevice
of my broken being

I cover it within layers of darkness
protect it from this wretched universe
nourish it with all my benevolence
and punish it with my insecurities

But I always agree
to carry the burden
it sometimes proves to be
without a word of complaint
on my slumped shoulders
and creased forehead
until it is ready

Ready to face its own future
in the form of poetry
that I then entrust pieces of paper
to manage with mercy

Edition XXXIII

Paradox - By Mariyam Thahira (Photo by Doug Maloney).jpgPhoto credit: Doug Maloney


By Mariyam Thahira

We live in a paradox

Where man made machines muse
more than their makers
and water takes more lives
than it gives rise to.

Scholars strive
to push people farther from God,
teachers thrive
to rob the natural desire to learn
and doctors drive people sicker.

we were too fond of ironies
that we decided to turn the world into one.

Video Archive

“Hate” – by Mariyam Thahira