A Mouse

by Sa'eeda Mu'azu

Every day, different hands click me

No one seems to care if I am clean or not

I might have some virus from someone’s flu

But everyone is so absorbed into their work to think of that

I am meant to be kept on a mat however; some people hate to use me on it

And so I am sometimes kept on the bare white surface

I am not being thrown because humans that use me can’t

But I know if I could be, someone would someday throw me down, out of frustration

That’s why I am glad to be part of the lucky ones in my species, which work with a wire rather than wireless

Who am I?

I am the mouse that everyone uses to get around the computer because they are all lazy to learn the shortcuts that comes with the computer.

Nevertheless I always wonder why I was given the name mouse; I hope to soon hear someone say that in my presence.

I am an Object

by Shafia K. Al-Mohannadi
     You can complain and curse when you hear me, but I can't help myself if the scent of it thrills me. It's so tasty, and I'm always hungry. Hungry because humans are so cautious with what they do to prevent my food from being served. It infuriates me.
     I'm so hungry that if i just get a lungful of that heavenly smell, I cry tears of happiness.
     But it's really funny making people get out, making them leave everything they were working on. Sometimes I just go off randomly and see their reaction.
     It gets really boring in here. Nothing happens much except seeing humans typing away on the keyboard. God, I feel so sorry for him. It's one thing to be me, but it is a completely different situation when you're a keyboard. It sucks.

I have been elected to speak

The Committe to Eliminate Thoughtlessness awaits.

For my brothers and sisters

Many of whom, unfortunately, could not be present at this time.

We represent the Committee to Eliminate Thoughtlessness,

And we wanted to express one of our recent concerns.

Well, we are simply not getting enough support in this institution.

We are not even sure you know what to do with us!

Every day, so many of you pass through

With those little plastic devices attached to your faces

And never even bother to glance at us

That we feel unappreciated.

You are at risk of losing us forever.

Give us a chance to get to know you.

We wear our names are on our spines.

Stop and say hello!

What Did You Learn at the ABP

Write about what you have learned this year.

I Learned That:

by Asmaa N. Al-Nassr

 

ABP is a waste of time if I don’t get accepted in Qatar Foundation University.

ABP students asking “Did you finish your college application?” throughout the year. The answer must be "NO!" even if you finished the college application. You have to lie or you will be hit directly with an evil eye. In our country, we believe in this stuff.

I learned the hard way, to know all the short cuts in the building. The building is confusing and all these turns. The most difficult moment for me when I first came to ABP is to find the toilet. I call it mission impossible.

Qatar National Sports Day

We are not having a meeting this week due to the National Sports Day holiday. Get out and get active. Then go home and write about it!

Write Your Obsessions

Cover art for Kim Lajoie's
compilation Obsession.

ob·ses·sion [uh b-sesh-uh n]

noun

1. the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.

That is how Dictionary.com defines obsession. What are yours? Write something about your obsessions.

I am obsessed with...

by Salma A. Buhmaid

I am obsessed with cats, hygiene, my hands' cleanliness, time management, drinking water, The Dr. Oz Show, The Oprah Winfrey Show ( I was very sad when she ended her show), making my personal essay interesting, showing who I am through the essay.

Robot

by Asmaa N. Al-Nassr

I’m opposite with robots. Why do they look like us. Are they going to invite us one day?

They walk they talk, but only when we tell them to do so.

Day by day they are starting to look like us: eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

When these voices come from Miss Kim's class, I realized how I missed being inside.

Every day a new surprise and the more people program their robot wrongly the higher the voices get.

Painter robot was my first creation. Going to DTFF and having all the kids ask me why there is no color in a painter robot.

And I answer them, "just use your imagination, little angels," but in my head I say, "stop acting smart you little kid!"

My Obsession

by Shafia K. Al-Mohannadi

Books are what I eat in breakfast, lunch and dinner. I especially enjoy a good night snack right when everyone is asleep.

Words fill me up, like when balloons come alive when you fill them up with air. Words are my limbs, my joints. Letters are in my veins in my body, they help me breath, think, speak and walk in a certain way. They are what I breathe in and out.

Obsession is when something takes complete control over your every thought. Wrapped around every cell in your body, and if, even for a fraction of a second, forget, it burns and twists and turns round your brain till it gets your full attention.

My obsession is books. Books with stories that leave me either gasping in fear, haunting me like my own shadow does, or laughing until every rib bone breaks.

Sketches for a New Painting!

I’m obsessed with

turning my abstract

sketches of boats

into cubic paintings!

Analyze boats

into spheres, cones, cylinders

broken up shapes, yet whole!

Three dimensional forms,

light and shadows,

cubic waves lashing,

white sails flapping

as the boats appear to be

turning  in slow motion.

A kind of realism,

or concrete reality.

Move around the object in time, 

depict the fourth dimension.

Write What You Are Not

Write about what you are not.

I'm not afraid!

by Asmaa N. Al-Nassr

I’m not afraid! The name of the song that I never understood.  Everyone is afraid from something it might be the past or future.

Walking in the night alone at that moment you just feel someone is following you, with no hesitation running all the way up the stairs. I ask myself why? And the answer is always “I’m afraid”.

I’m not…

I’m not waiting for you anymore—it’s nothing personal.

I’ve never done this before—I’m not happy about it.

I’m not on the verge of discovery—I’m not looking for anything.

I’m not telling you—it’s a secret.

I’m not real—I’m a figment of your imagination.

I’m not coming up with anything original—it’s all been written before.

I’m not concentrating—there are too many people talking.

I’m not doing anything useful with my time—I’m writing a poem.

I’m not going to let go—it’s the last one.

I’m not alone—you’re here with me.

I’m not going to say this again—I’m not.

I Am Not

by Shafia K. Al-Mohannadi

I am not a person who stands by, a person who neglects, too much. I am not high up in the cloud nor am I buried down by the weight of things. Just things, never ask what are the things because I am not answering.

I am never an underachiever,

On no account a cheater,

In no way I am a disbeliever.

Give me anything and I will not not give back. I’m not going to run around telling lies; I’m not spending the rest of my existence thinking of what I could be yet doing absolutely nothing.

I am not a zombie fighter, regrettably. Can I make a headshot? No.