PRT Farah Enables Afghan Women's Initiatives



Broken hearts, broken oaths,

Broken dreams, broken peace.

The truce is over.

I hope you have chosen your side.

I know well enough which one is mine.

I’m standing tall over my own camp,

For this time I chose myself over

All pleasantries, traditions and obligations.

I am my own general and I am waiting

To see the white of their eyes to shoot.

Which side will you call yours?

On whose territory will you stand on?

If be not mine, then hide, run, for

I’m taking no prisoners.

The time of understanding has come and gone.

Now rules the reign of sheer strength and

You would be mistaken to think that in this war,

I am the weaker one.

Be my ally or be me foe.

I’m done with love for now, with

Tenderness and compassion. I shall

Have my demands met or tears will be shed,

Not precisely from my eyes or those who

Join me in arms.

We are at war. Are you at war with me?

Or will you stand by my side,

For this once, go beyond yourself,

And prove the passionate

Comradeship you have profess

Is true and right?

So it’s goodbye, then.

Broken hearts, broken oaths,

Broken dreams, broken peace.

Let the war begin.



Boudica- Karem Barrett

The Statues Of London

They came like a storm, like black birds

Picking clean my bones,

Breaking, hurting, raping, slashing

Trusts, honours and backs.

They came like a storm

Of red cloaks and red blood,

And forged the lance in my heart:

Out of my tears, out of my hate,

It rose, out the screams of my babes,

My daughters of flowers turned into mud.

They came like a storm,

Flushing the goodness from myself.

And I knelt before the dark goddess

And asked to be made merciless and brave.

No more tears have I shed.

No hesitation has stopped my steps.

I am the queen who will be no slave,

The bringer of the scream,

The painter of the red.

I have become their lighting and their thunder.

The mid-wife of their fears.

I have crushed their spears and howled

The call of war.

I am the lance and I am the sword;

The avenger of chastity turned blood,

Of freedom chained, of broken oaths.


I am she, who teaches terror, to those who brought the storm.

I can’t say I follow any particular tendency or style. I pretty much let my heart sings and copy the notes into the computer, and then play with the sounds and meanings until I feel the poem, idea or musing have taken their own shape and personality. I am originally from Venezuela and have been in the UK for 14 years. I am a writer, poet, blogger, life coach, interfaith-minister, celebrant, language teacher, Domestic Goddess with an edge,  Tarot reader, mother to a girl (light of my eyes), a dog, a Guinea pig and five plants, and wife to the most patient man in the world, who sometimes appears in my poetry. I feel very lucky to be multi-racial: Spanish, Nigerian, Native American, Jewish, Italian, Arabic and Finnish. Somehow I think that influences my eclectic style, which flourishes in almost everything I do, from my writing to my cooking. Like everyone I have had my ups and downs. I have experience domestic violence (first hubby) and ridiculously sweet loving (second hubby). I am immigrant and right now I am witnessing the loss of my country (long story) and yet I have been very much welcomed in the UK and have grown to love it very much. I am bipolar, psychotic, suicidal and suffer from psychosomatic epilepsy, which can make life a challenge at times, and, at others, weirdly fun.

I blog at Singing Heart