CreationEarth Nature Photos
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

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

Search for Arabic poems, articles about Arabic poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Arabic poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Arabic Poems
Read Arabic Poems
New Arabic Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Arabic Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Arabic poems are below this new poems list.

Arabic Queen by Custard, James
Arabic Proverb by Manassian, Eileen
Arabic homeland by Hassan, Faleeha
My days and my nights -- translation from my Arabic poem by Chiang, Christy
Fara5*Empty-In Arabic* by al-riyami, sajdah
Ummi (mom in arabic) by Merahi, Nassira

View all new Arabic Poems

The Best Arabic Poems

Details | Arabic Poem | |

In Bed, Side by Side

          ... through nights of ether.
          Liquid paraffin drowns shadows
          of potpourri

          and anniversaries
          that measure the distance of sight and sound
          tiptoeing down thousand-threads

          sheets in ascetic reds
          or tense blue — Déjà vu of absent drive
          As if our apathy could long survive

          its own silence.
          I wonder if there will be time
          to pull up anchor and sun

          or if we'll just float adrift
          until sinking — sacredly 
          ever after.




07/27/2015
.

Copyright © Usual Suspect | Year Posted 2015


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Sea of Dreams

The skies become loud and dark
Raining bombs upon us
May god protect the civilians
Take away the rest in rivers red
Let the devils blood flow far from us

We stare always to the skies
Our own tears falling
Thus we created our own sea of dreams
Here inside our prison city
Laughter is hidden underneath the bed


My pink lip stick and smile
I have only hope to eat
I have only the future to grasp
Because my death shall soon come to be
Death for forgetting the past

All we could do, living in daily fear
Is swim in our sea of dreams
Only to be drowned with our own blood
Here is my Photo, here is my dream
I lie dead, my dream I leave to you



Dedicated to Nisan Ibrahim who reported and wrote under the alias Ruqia Hassan.
She lived in the city of Raqqa in Iraq and was killed by Daesh around July 2015.
Hassan came from a Kurdish family that was originally from the town of Kobane, Syria, on the Turkish border. The family had at some date relocated to Raqqa. 

She was never to find that rest and peace. Maybe she didn't expect to. She wrote the same day: "Our biggest mistake was to swim in a sea of dreams... and we dreamt of the next phase and ignored the current phase... we look at the future and forgot the past... #a mistake we regret."

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


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





Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2013


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

Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Diabolical

Insane
All of us
The two of us
The ménage of us

The rain drops fall inside our heads
Just the two of us
Crazy deluded creatures
crawling in the attics of darkness

Breathing, gasping, hold on, hold tight
The air becomes a precious bond
Little one dances in the wind
Precious dreams in white padded rooms

Adam and Eve and serpent roam
The halls of the diabolical 
Wondering where I have been?
I am all of you

Mirrors on the wall 
Can you not all see?
We are all me and you
Insane inside mindless heads

Random mutterings
Broken bottles
Gods stolen promises
Contracts broken in the night

Insane we are
All of us
From Adam to Dawn
Holding hands for better days

Dying to be uninsane
Wishing raindrops go up not down
ATEN shall again shower us
With sunny days


Dedicated to someone here who told me once, “I am just………….     Well I say you are just a brilliant poet”

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Jerusalem expensive

Jerusalem expensive 

They took her by force and took it from under our feet They went out 
We love and we want, but their weapons in the Muslim Tortured us 
Cry day and night, and between their hands do not want to stay 
Notifies the sadness calls, every human being by a drop of blood Islam 
Youth killed aggression, and an orphanage in the streets of pain 
Children of security they want, and the Zionists speak the language of blood 
Responsible for watching the war, and organizations suspicion that they are incorrigible Peace 
They beat us and tortured us, and armed Dmrona and Okhavona 
Moved O Muslims, and all fighters Belongings 
What is the value of the life he leads Denied, and of belongings you ban 
Enough of humiliation and deadlock, Your cooperation to return You  
God is in favor of the right, what you just have to go ahead and fight 
O Muslim, there is no saddens blow ...... 
The higher the oppressor, Fall become more painful .......

Muslim proudly 



Author : Omar Hachmi 


http://creationsomarhachmi.blogspot.com/

Copyright © Omar Hachmi | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

ONE THOUSAND AND ONE BOMBS ON BAGHDAD

We were accustomed to read one thousand 
And one night in Baghdad...
Tonight the glorious city-sky is sad,
It sounded bang! Bang 
Where is my mummy? Where is my dad?
Are they all alive under the cruise wreckage;
Or are they all dead?
The a ‘Rashid city was weeping,
It rained hatred,
It rained prejudiced,
It rained cactus of different shapes,
They're all aliens, 
Some were homemade,
They're all colourful,
In blue, in yellow and in red.
Do you still remember brother?
Because if you don't I still do
What the big Satan, Lucifer what he said!
The cross versus the crescent, take it or leave it,
An entire racism by the media was also fed.
Some hidden in a banker,
Others crawling of hunger,
Others demonstrating with anger,
Pale, yellowish faces they all looked bad.
Where is my nation..My Arabity..My Islam ?
Oh...Mutasamahh! Where are my brothers?
Are they all dead???
They called it precise bombing and it was right indeed,
In the heart of the baby-heart 
Like the British game of dart,
The arrow hit its target,
It hit it like mad.
Nobody moves a finger,
In the age of Patriot and Stinger,
They all believe in star-wars, economic prosperity, 
They all believe in the Pope, pop-star singer,
They all believe that one-day Allah would side with them to defeat, 
The neo-Thamud and Aad,
They're all waiting for the coming future Mahdi,
And for the Armageddon battle to be led.  

Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Two Lenses

In the exuberant morning sun
Showcasing the self was an obsession
Cricket swimming jumping very high
Flying the kite high up in the blue sky

In the mellow glee of afternoon
Seeing and waiting is the mind's moon
Around your neck my arms in a loop
Relaxing happily in Poetry Soup
--------------------------------------------------
February 15, 2016

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Haiku for the Color Red

As heat bursts around,
silence lets me ponder on,
where I left my phone.

Copyright © Jackson LaBaugh | Year Posted 2016


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Lament in Haiku Form for a Dead Eraser

Today I did stab,
an eraser so white, pure,
it did bleed blue ink.

Copyright © Jackson LaBaugh | Year Posted 2016


Details | Arabic Poem | |

i wanna be creative

i want to be creative 
but sometime i am negative
damn someone turn me positive 
to make me feel am a good native

listen to me bb no one can be great
only if you now how to make the beat 
beat the best and u never take a set
cuz everyone well the bad freaky beast

Copyright © anasse kamal | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

The Mountain Top

I climbed to the top of the mountain
Overlooking majestic snowy peaks
How refreshing to see the clouds below
I am on the door step to the heavens
Or so it seems
All for saying kind words
Its so easy it feels like a  magical dream
That a smile and a kind word
Is returned one thousand fold
I say to fanatics and those so sure
Of what is right and good. or evil and wrong
Climb with me to the mountaintop
Breathe in the joy of being King for a day.
You may conquer them with your armies or terror, this is true
However, from way up high, as you gaze both below and up to the heavens
Would you not rather conquer their hearts?

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014


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.

Copyright © John Cervone | Year Posted 2013


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Hell

I sauntered out of an Irish Pub
Basted in booze and Irish smooze
The whiskeys sure didn’t cover the blues
Me, I knew this wasn’t good news

As a crossed the street
I met a bus, Full of nuns, all in a fuss
There was no contest, the bus sure won
I was run over and ready for a place with no sun

I arrived in hell, this surly no surprise
At least I was drunk, or so Satan surmised
He looked confused and asked who am I?
A Lawyer? a Dictator? or maybe I was both?

I apologized profusely for I surely was not
Any of those professions, I'm no in their lot
He asked if I was expecting 72 virgins?
As drunk as I was, I said I was not

He was angry and mad, there was doubt
What could the Devil do? He seemed in a stew
So he gave me a degree, in Law and Justice
So I could live in hell among all the others untrusted!

Notes: No Lawyers were hurt or maimed in the writing of this poem, and I apologize for that!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Avalanche Preoccupied

I think I get it:
you want me to swallow your acidic avalanche,
those billion frantic snow globes
of brilliant-clownish confusion,
you want me to rebuild your burned out shrines atop broken blue glacial climbs,
straddle boulders of swaybacked hope and jagged stones of regret. 
You wish me to inhale the barbs of shadows
the velocity of your death.
You want me to embrace the fire of your ID 
with paper arms and gasoline finger tips,
lasso your run-away mind
make a bouquet of roses from a wall of
rock and ice.

I know you'll get this:
I can't embrace your avalanche
while I'm digging out from beneath my own.

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2014


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

Copyright © Inaam Al-Hashimi | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

sun on brick

line against the wall
fat birds too wrung out to drive
later, rooms' sweet ease

Copyright © Michael Miers | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Never Give Up

Never Give Up

Hang on; The Lord will give you strength in any act of your pursuit
Keep trusting God; He will lead you in every step of the journey
Don’t live by other people’s time tables; live by Gods Time Table.
You may lose paradise, but gain heaven when you rise up and repent
Don’t underestimate your ability to pick yourself up and keep going.
Let go of your disappointments, mistakes and failures
Never give up on your missions and visions.

Never give up praying, The Lord will answer you in His beautiful timing. 
The Lord will prepare you for the great success which will comes unexpectedly.
Your dreams are planted deep within your heart by Life itself.
Don't be discouraged by people who tease you out of your dreams
Overcome any struggle with courage, motivation and hope
Your dreams were given to you for a reason by THE CREATOR.
It is easy to give up in life than to keep trying. Always choose the latter

Try again; you have millions of alternatives
Get rid of that negative and defeated attitude.
Always stayed focused on your goals and hang on the wings of hope and success
Be consistent in your efforts, success is not obtained overnight
Push through every difficulty and negativity to achieve the goals
To achieve the impossible, you must attempt the absurd
Never settle for less than what you imagined possible for yourself.

Be determined to be determined
The victory over our inner self is a daily struggle
Resist every negative criticism and persist to make it happen
Go forward and conquer any mountain on your path
Quitters and waiters have a varied beginning, but a similar ending
Just underneath your breaking point lies your true strength
Don’t stop where you fall; rise up and do it again!”

Your downfall is a preparation for your up-rise
Without adversity and trials we may never know what we are capable of.
Mistakes help to sharpen your next steps.
Focus on the precious moments and gracious future.
Never give up, pursue your passion
Successful people never quit –upgrade your mindset and keep focus
Stay strong, stay positive, and never give up.

Only the weak use "I can't" as an excuse to give up

Copyright © Seth Yuhi Musinga | Year Posted 2015


Details | Arabic Poem | |

My Best Teacher

I had some very good primary school teachers who were awesome 
But in all my schooling, one of my college instructors stood out to be super awesome

In our first day of class we all sat on a beautiful mat that she had acquired from one of her travels to a middle eastern country
Then we drank tea in tiny little cups
This is a welcoming gesture that she had learnt from her travels
This special gesture always reminds me of the book Three Cups of Tea
We were about twelve students, about five minorities 
It was called World Studies

That little gesture brought all of us closer

On our last day of class we had an international potluck where we each brought food from our different cultures and ethnic backgrounds
Am sure God was smilling on that day as he watched us try each other's foods and learn about each other through it

I remember a story she told us of how she wore a niqab to her church and stood by the door as a greeter
She talked of how most people avoided her direction, some not even looking at her

She was this petite white woman
She had travelled to twenty something countries worldwide doing missionary work
She had walked on soils where women were regarded inferior and unworthy 
She had put her hands during her missions, in places where white people were loathed

But even with some of the dire situations she found herself into, she still had that caring and loving heart

I remember the projects we did for refugees 
Another of her many passions
She provided healthcare, education and assisted with basic needs acquisitions for them

I learnt that we can all sit down, have a cup of tea, put down our differences and accept each, 
to make this world a peaceful place

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Farewell to Mustafa Badreddine

Farewell to Mustafa Bad reddine

We salute you
Murderer of humanity
You have received your just rewards
Zulfiqar has sliced you to pieces
Mohamed spits on your body parts
On examination they saw
The sum of the parts has no heart
You tried to fell the great trees
The cedars of Lebanon
You failed

 Rafik Hariri now has you on a leash
You thought you were Daesh
Your army of hatred
Gives you Hitler salutes
While intellectuals feed you pork grinds
You are now buried
In hells fires with your fellow pigs
In morning headlines of the news today
We Celebrate
At the breakfast table
With bacon an eggs and coffee so sweet
Your death, truly was a treat


This man killed 1000’s in cold blood, Americans, Israeli’s, Jews, Christians and Muslims, for him blood was simply blood. That 1000’s attend his funeral shows you how we have yet to learn about humanity.

Rafik Hariri was the Lebanese Prime Minster killed in a car bombing in old Beirut, organized by Syria and Bashar al Assad and carried out by Hezbollah and Mustafa Bad reddine.

Zulfiqar = great sword

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Crown of Dewdrops - Collom's Lune

.


              crown of dewdrops 
              left on a purple leaf 
              until king rises



Picture # 1

.

Copyright © Usual Suspect | Year Posted 2015


Details | Arabic Poem | |

Everything for you

Everything for you

I fought the world for you
She wrote poetry for you
I tried to sing for you
I was happy for you

Structure exclusively for you
Declared my love for you
Patient too much for you
I love roses for you

Planted trees for you
Night stayed up for you
I read books for you
And I'll die for you

Copyright © Marouane Hachmi | Year Posted 2013


Details | Arabic Poem | |

HARSH VOICE

HARSH VOICE

I sing the song eternal
A crackling, cackling broomstick sweep
Why?

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
A squirt of the old oil can
Clears up the voice for Tin Man

No Yellow Brick Road this life
No wizard in some enchanted castle
And I ask again, why?

This world no Disney tune
Or intoxicated lovers humping ‘neath the moon
I ask the question eternal, why?

Life sucks,
Then you die

I roar, cough at these clichés
As the voice grows weaker

Oh, to laugh in its face
The atheist finally calls on Jesus
No disgrace

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014


Details | Arabic Poem | |

HARSH VOICE

HARSH VOICE

I sing the song eternal
A crackling, cackling broomstick sweep
Why?

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
A squirt of the old oil can
Clears up the voice for Tin Man

No Yellow Brick Road this life
No wizard in some enchanted castle
And I ask again, why?

This world no Disney tune
Or intoxicated lovers humping ‘neath the moon
I ask the question eternal, why?

Life sucks,
Then you die

I roar, cough at these clichés
As the voice grows weaker

Oh, to laugh in its face
The atheist finally calls on Jesus
No disgrace

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014


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

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2013