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Best Arabic Poems

Below are the all-time best Arabic poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of arabic poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Arabic Poem |

The Art of Attraction

I heard it said once
That attractive to an artist
Does not mean "pretty"
In the average sense
But more something that
Is interesting to look at
And makes you want to 
Keep looking

To him, I can look for hours
And want to keep looking

He is the color burnt umber
Like coffee and cream
And purest black ink
Not blue-black, or brown,
But the undiluted purity
Of a spilled ink-pot
Shaped by the delicate curve
Of a calligraphy brush
Into perfectly, haphazardly
Beautiful curls, erratic and
Bold

And his eyes
Those eyes
Like coffee, taken
Without cream or sugar
But turned amber by sunlight
And sweetened by laughter
Making what might have been
Intimidating, with their darkly
Charcoaled outline that 
Marks them as Arab
Instead as sweetly inviting
As the warm half-light of dusk
And so addictive

I've been looking for hours
And I want to keep looking






Details | Arabic Poem |

If Languages Were Instruments

If languages were instruments,
English, the language of my own America,
Would be something like a piano.
Each word is clear and sharp-
When we sing, the note does not waver.
But I suppose it's more fair to say that
English is something like an electronic keyboard
With two hundred different modes because English
Has so many different versions, 
Adaptations of other instruments,
Emulations, or imitations, however you want 
To think of it; there is no accent that cannot 
Be reconfigured to be
Played on keys in distinct shades
Of black or white.

Arabic though...
Arabic is more like a violin.
The sound of Arabic
Flies up and down the scale
In deliciously smooth legato,
Stopping to linger on vibrato;
Poignant


Details | Arabic Poem |

Life

Life 
Arabic Poem by: Riyadh Al-Ghareeb*
 Translated into English by: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
 ================================
 
It was not his idea 
He did not wave to the sundown of his life
Quite simply, he let life go by 
He was the only one who did not care about the war 
Rather, he listened to music 
And wrote poems 
While 
Shells were falling all around him.. 
Not once, he thought about death 
Nor he paid attention to getting old in the mirror 
All that he cared about
Was a woman he imagined loving him
And waiting for someone who may come back 
Carrying a small snippet 
Emblazoned with the script 
From extreme madness “
 To... “
He lived in his illusion
Even as he became a poet. 
When his life was clotting
And nightfall of life was waving to him
He realized
All that was going on around him 
Was not his choice 
And the life he encountered 
Was not his life.. 
So, 
He tried to get rid of his blue beard
And bitter tears 
Near the nearest war 
of his country’s 
A country that has become 
Addicted to wars.
 
He let his hair grow long 
His dark skinned face
Was on the verge of revealing nightly starvation
At noontime, his children were panting 
After a lifeless Dinar..
His final poem
Was laden with the grief of the world 
But that world did not care about what was going on..
In his only room 
The smell of onions mixed
With the smell of the empty pots; 
Hanging onions 
Was the most beautiful memory in a country 
Without memory 
It's his life 
That he wanted to be 
A part of his ration card, 
His birth record
And the rest of his poems. 

“Woe to the ruin!” 
He said
Removing the dust from a painting of him
Made, in a stolen moment, 
By a painter who died two wars ago.
He was laughing 
And holding a drink with an innocent cheer
As, above his head, birds in the somber colors of the sky were flying
Suggesting the he was important 
And his life was of interest to others. 
He flicked his tears 
And on the tile of his room floor
He saw wars reproduce, 
He saw his children go to a new war 
He saw his wife coughing her years 
Painful looks
And said to himself 
That life 
Was not my idea 
It is a naive game.
However 
Let me keep on this road 
At the end, I may find paper 
For my friends to wrap me with
Like the oldest statue 
Standing on the way of passers-by 
And the country!!!!!! 
---------------
 Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 USA
 * Riadh Al-Ghareeb is a poet from Iraq


Details | Arabic Poem |

Ummi (mom in arabic)

Sometimes I think that it has been so long since your departure
I actually lived more years without you than with you
Even though I had to accept the unspeakable pain I went through
I ventured into stages of life and had since mature.

Ummi words will not be enough to tell you how much I miss you
I remember your sweet smell forever in me imprinted
The cuddles of your arms where I felt protected
Your beautiful smile brightening my horizon renews.

I was not finish loving you ummi!
As I grew up more and more, learning to know you
I felt getting closer and closer … step by step … I had walked a few
I wanted to become your closest ally so you could rely on me.

I wanted to protect, help and take care of you one day
As you had spent so much of your time caring for me and my siblings
Your only girl I was and connected to you even in my dreams
I was going to be there for you… undertaking your relay.

My tears are still flowing for you from my broken heart ummi
As you left suddenly, a tear ingrained in my soul
I cannot resolve the unfinished puzzle
As if that fateful day, you had left with a piece of me.

I will forever love you …you’re the sweetest ummi


Details | Arabic Poem |

SNAKE EYES

      SNAKE EYES
Most certainly, the world could not agree
With how the dies were cast, that fateful day,
If not for love, 'twould never come to me
the reason she put out, so willingly.

Her belly dancing, gave me my first clue,
That easy comes her love, her night was mine,
Scheherazad dressed out in shades of blue,
and made her touch both prescious and divine.

It was enough just witniissing her charm,
And yet her teasing, took he to her high,
In little time, my fire was fifth alarm,
And Cairo felt her heat as sure did I.

In ectasy, I paused to roll the dies,
Just as I fell in love between her thighs.
     © Ron Wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


Details | Arabic Poem |

When Will My Nightmare End

 When Will My Nightmare End?
You left behind your fathers and mothers; 
you left behind your husbands and wives. 
You put on hold, your very lives. 
You traveled to a land and stated 
You have come to help all those slated 
to be victims of a regime outdated. 
At night you drove ahead, 
into a nightmare filled with dread. 
Into streets filled with danger. 
Completely wary of any stranger. 
To what end you asked in pain? 
What in the world can we possibly gain? 
The only answer you could find 
was in your heart and all you left behind. 
As you drive these haunted streets 
the sound of gunfire so close it speaks. 
It speaks of dangers still unknown, 
it screams of evil to atone. 
This land, in truth, is death and sand 
it is truly a "NO man's land"
By; John Cervone

This is dedicated to all the National Guard Troops who served in IRAQ.


Details | Arabic Poem |

Fara5*Empty-In Arabic*

That devilish smile
Can be permanent
On my pretty face
but all i hear is blabla 
wa?

That mean-like look
Across that forehead
Plastered with no force
But do i care?
**SWISH**SWISH**Hair

Booze smells bad
Smoking.. I hate ashtrays
Chocolates are fatty carbs
Fake gold makes my eyes frown
Stop looking like a clown

I want you out my door
Boy,do i want you out that door
Nobody calls me a female dog
but me!(SHOUTS)
Now go slam the door on your way out

**Havent choose a category or title,for the JOB contest-You have to guess my idle Job*.* 
After Job contest judged ill write it down;) So come back in a month or a few weeks **


Details | Arabic Poem |

My days and my nights -- translation from my Arabic poem

This is a lousy translation of my just-as-lousy first attempt at writing poems in Arabic. I've only been learning Arabic for a year and a half, so there goes the cliches; the sentiment is genuine and heartfelt though. It was too painful to say the things I want to say in English...so I turned to Arabic. It's also a lot more concise in Arabic. 


You came back to me, in my dreams

On the day that

My eyes first knew you

O, how I wish it was today!

O, how I wish to return to that day!

 

My hand remembers you

My heart remembers you

You are in everything I see

The tree under her we sat

The cat that ran between our legs

 

Once, once, once…

Once you were with me

O I do not forget my days and nights –

A month like a year;

A night like an hour.

I cannot — I cannot!

I cannot forget my days and nights (with you)


Details | Arabic Poem |

MY CREATOR

Fetus formed.
Embryo became.
A girl baby I am.

My creator I do not know.  Procreation states that ovum and sperm conceives.  My question is how does this evolve – from God?

We are told there are ninety-nine names given to the omnipotent.  Let us take a walk.

Imagine a vision that all us possess of The Almighty.
He states, oh I know you call me God, the Lord, Jehovah.
Some call me Allah.
I tell you that all these names make no difference.
I am your creator.

The creatures of the Earth are animals.
The beings are my people.
You are of the greater intellect and animals’ spirituality is their understanding.
The world is ritualize to both.
Each knows their subsistence.
Affluence is all way of life divided for profusion.

Prey...
Work...
Both have no indifference to a certain extent.
I am of man and I am the eyes of animal.
Life will form.
______________/

From this visualization, what knowledge did I received; that my creator is ovulation and conception.  This is an ascertain principle that in the beginning my creator gave me life that formed within modern time.


Details | Arabic Poem |

Biography of A Dream

=============================
Biography of A Dream 
Arabic Poem by: Abdulsadah Al-Basri
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
=============================
At... 
The end of the first decade 
Of the twentieth century 
The sun bathed in my father’s eyes 
He kept flirting with her 
And flirting..
to draw a dream on her silken rays   
A dream accompanied him all his life.
 
 In the fourth decade  
 He got married 
To build a nest in the heart of the countryside, 
Then begot a little bird 
Two  
And three   
Taught them how to fly with love 
Over the waves of the river 
And how to long for the bread
Baked in the outdoors tandoor 

But .. 
In the eighth decade of the same century 
He departed overwhelmed by grief
Over a dream
That would never come true
Never 
Never 
Never!!!
--------------
 Translated into English by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 * Abdulsadah Al-Basri is a poet from Iraq
 


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