nadia abduljabbar

Rookie - 99 Points (25/5/1957 / Makkah)

Clowns - Poem by nadia abduljabbar

Smeared with different
Colours, not in an artistic
Method, along with their
Glued hair that do
Not fly in the air,
Women walk in parties
As arrogant as a male peck cook
But certainly they lack his splendor.

Until when will Arab women
Kill their exquisiteness by putting
Make up like Actresses in theatres
Or Models of Fashion Designers,
In the run way, or rather CLOWNS.
Those care not for beauty,
But for attracting attention.
Out of curiosity, I went through
The experience in one of the best
Saloons in Jeddah.

(I put make up very well;
For I love painting,
And I paint well,
I even
Brought specialized magazines
To teach Me different ways,
Of putting make up according
To different looks and features,

The process began when
I was twelve years old,
Then I began to put make up
To my elderly sisters,
Before they went to parties) .

I was supervising the lady
And with all my supervision,
I looked in the mirror
And found another woman
Before me; My eye size
Disappeared and there was
Something like the coloured
Boiled eggs of Easter or
“Sham al Nassem” under
My forehead and they called it

I could not control myself
From laughing at the new me.
But guess what, the women
There began to praise the so called
New look.
People true taste
Is erased by what these
Saloons Convince them
what beauty is;
And poor beauty is lost;
Drowned and no body
There to save it.

My eye led is not wide, but she
Put me very thick and wide,
Eyeliner and heavy shadow,
It looked like the paint
Of my son’s bed room,
I tried to minimize it, but that
Meant the royal blue eye shadow
Would have leaked on the cheeks,
I could do nothing,
I went to the wedding,

I rarely go to weddings,
Feeling shy
From my egg like eye,
Puffed eye led. Some ladies
Asked me if I have done
Botox or a plastic surgery;
I said no and I hope my hereditary
Iraqi Blood will not make
me need it.
Not only because I cannot
Afford it,
For I am not one of Jeddah’s
But because I hate artificial looks,
And I hate to be a slave for
An injection or a doctor,
I love to take care of my
Looks and put make up,
But certainly, I will not be
A slave to a body that
Might be eaten by worms.


4 April,2013

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 4, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, October 11, 2013

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