Naomi Shihab Nye

(12 March 1952 / St. Louis, Missouri)

Naomi Shihab Nye Poems

1. Business 5/13/2015
2. Loving Working 1/23/2016
3. Lying While Birding 5/22/2015
4. Many Asked Me Not to Forget Them 6/22/2015
5. Arabs in Finland 6/10/2015
6. Negotiations with a Volcano 12/10/2015
7. How Palestinians Keep Warm 5/16/2015
8. Arabic 5/16/2015
9. Snow 5/16/2015
10. One Way or Another 4/30/2015
11. The Story, Around The Corner 1/4/2012
12. The Turtle Shrine Near Chittagong 1/4/2012
13. Song Book 12/1/2014
14. Valentine for Ernest Mann 5/9/2015
15. The Traveling Onion 12/26/2014
16. The Words Under The Words 1/4/2012
17. Yellow Glove 1/4/2012
18. Wedding Cake 12/17/2014
19. Trying To Name What Doesn’t Change 1/4/2012
20. The Small Vases From Hebron 1/4/2012
21. Truth Serum 1/4/2012
22. Alaska 1/4/2012
23. Supple Cord 1/4/2012
24. Spruce Street, Berkeley 1/4/2012
25. Last August Hours Before The Year 2000 1/4/2012
26. My Uncle’s Favorite Coffee Shop 1/4/2012
27. Hello 1/4/2012
28. San Antonio 1/4/2012
29. Fundamentalism 1/4/2012
30. The Rider 1/4/2012
31. Jerusalem 1/4/2012
32. Hugging The Jukebox 1/4/2012
33. Shoulders 1/4/2012
34. Boy And Egg 1/4/2012
35. Burning The Old Year 1/4/2012
36. The Art Of Disappearing 1/4/2012
37. Different Ways To Pray 1/4/2012
38. So Much Happiness 1/4/2012
39. Famous 1/4/2012
40. Sewing, Knitting, Crocheting... 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Naomi Shihab Nye

Making A Fist

We forget that we are all dead men conversing wtih dead men.
—Jorge Luis Borges

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

'How do you know if you are going to die?'
I begged my mother.
We had been traveling for days.
With strange confidence she ...

Read the full of Making A Fist

Blood

"A true Arab knows how to catch a fly in his hands,"
my father would say. And he'd prove it,
cupping the buzzer instantly
while the host with the swatter stared.

In the spring our palms peeled like snakes.
True Arabs believed watermelon could heal fifty ways.
I changed these to fit the occasion.

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