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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

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;

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?

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

Details | Arabic Poem | |


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!

Details | Arabic Poem | |


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 
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.. 
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.
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
 * Riadh Al-Ghareeb is a poet from Iraq

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 | |

The darkness at noon

Details | Arabic Poem | |


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 | |

Avalanche Preoccupied

I think I get it:
you want me to embrace 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 swallow 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.

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

Details | Arabic Poem | |

lol submitted this for my writer's craft class

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou can buy drinks at McD’s for a buck,
Wait, that means thou never want to pay,
Thou went to see a psychic for good luck.

Sometime too hot thou think thou are at clubs,
The ways you act embarrass all thy friends ;
And when we need to drag thou out of pubs,
We hope thy hot behaviour will soon end.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Especially in winter when thou wear;
Shorts too short with legs far too displayed,
“Oh my god, I can see her underwear,”

Thy “summer’s” kind of ratchet after all
Thy friends will wait until you turn to fall.

Details | Arabic Poem | |


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.

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 | |

Well, Well, Well

What do we have here?
Two firm feet, with arms to bear.
Fifty horses to get up there.
A hundred times, ten thousand faces.
Say you're welcome, please.

The strong will seize, 
If the flow will keep.
Put forty-five, frown
On a page,
Like sheep.

Can I buy you, uh...
Have you been many places?
Do you liken us to trees?

Say hello and give a tear,
Spend time up there,
Then look down.

Details | Arabic Poem | |

sun on brick

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

Details | Arabic Poem | |

Ranting At A Dead Man

Why’s that man gotta dog that cat,
that man’s got no right to dog that cat?
That cat’s name is Arafat,
that’s why that man’s gotta dog that cat.
Why’s that man gotta dog that cat,
gotta dog that cat named Arafat?
Arafat, he killed Jew babies,
he tried to kill them all and I don’t mean maybe.
That’s why that man’s gotta dog that cat,
gotta dog that cat named Arafat.
Arafat, he killed Jew babies?
Man that’s just downright crazy!
So go ahead man and dog that cat,
dog that cat named Arafat.
That Arafat, he’s no cat,
Arafat is a big fat rat.
So go ahead man and dog that rat,
dog that rat named Arafat.

Details | Arabic Poem | |


the forest where birds are singing
the river where fishes are swimming
the sea where every creatures are living
in the air where birds are flying

every living and that of non-living
all are created by Him
including the freedom of people
the freedom to independence
and own governance and country

let not the men dictate Allah
surely they never know
what Allah knows
salam sahur
on the third day

i love you Allah
layag sug!

Details | Arabic Poem | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Details | Arabic Poem | |


I remember when I was nine(9) years old
As young as I was, I was told
That,not all that glitters is gold
I always walked chest out and bold
But I saw a gold which didn't glitter
I stood for a while and begun to wonder
Asking lot of questions, demanding an answer
Passing by, I saw a stranger
She decided to give me a helping brain
I was afraid to give the gold to her
I gave it out holding my fists in pain
I was obsessed with fear
Then she laughed in a ridiculous way
She continued to say
'This is not a gold but a stone'
Out of anger,I said 'My eyes are my own'
She left while laughing
I stood there wondering
In no time,I saw a dude
He was walking nude
I clothed him and gave him food
I hid the gold from him
But he saw it in his dream
He took it from the pit
He asked why I doubted it 
He then showed it to the sun
Its brightness, I couldn't stand
It penetrated my eyes
On ground, I saw remains of Ice
At a moment I was wowed
How was the Ice thawed?
He said 'This is the real gold of nature'
Until you know it, it will never glitter
On the blade of its tongue, It tastes bitter
On the flesh, It is the sweetest 
When the knowledge about is a smarter,
You devalue it for the rest
The cover doesn't matter
Its whole is the brightest and best.


Details | Arabic Poem | |



I sing the song eternal
A crackling, cackling broomstick sweep

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

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)
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 
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
 Translated into English by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 * Abdulsadah Al-Basri is a poet from Iraq

Details | Arabic Poem | |

How dare I

How dare I?
How dare you! 
How dare you expect me to fall at your feet 
Again might I add.
Fall at your feet so that I can be hurt again?
I think not.

How dare you tell me that 
You still love me.
Tell that to your freaking girl friend.
You still love me? 
Then why do you constantly hurt me?
With your smile,
Your words,
Your facade you show the world?

How dare I? 
How dare you! 
How dare you call me the day after it happened
And expect me to be oh so happy to hear that
You made a mistake.
Hell yeah it was a mistake.
I loved you!
I cried for days!

But guess what?
I took a dare.
I dared to move on!
Yes, I dared! 
I dared to fall in love with another boy.
One who treats me so much better.
One who cares about what I feel!

How dare I?
Yes, I did dare.
I dared to forget you.
I dared to ignore you.
I dared to dry my tears 
So I don't have to waste them on 

So how dare I?
How dare you.

Details | Arabic Poem | |


I am so tired. I forgot to peel the banana.
I am suing Chakita for pain and suffering...
Johnny Rhinem. Will you marry me online?
L   :)

Details | Arabic Poem | |


The Grace of Allah be with you always
That fateful day, we met in the Philippines
A short interview and you said okay
An agreement that was a way to begin

Appreciate your kindness like brother
No barrier between us and for all
True humility brings you closer to others
Promotes well-being is your ultimate goal

Many times I stepped to ask for your aid
You stepped up to be prudent and sensible
Always speak in gentle tone and well said
Your leadership is such exceptional

To me, to others you are a true friend
Your kind-heartedness will always remind

23 October 2014

Details | Arabic Poem | |

Eritrean Softball Game - 1959

One painful hot, and  Eritrean day,
More happenstance, than anything we'd planned,
Our softball field, was moulded in the clay
Of Africa, the time forgotten land.

Behind a chain link fence, they came to see,
We sailors of the Ocean having fun.
While they, ten hundred, maybe more, than we,
black faced and wringing sweat, laughed at the sun.

Anticipation we'd not heard before,
Rose to their high, just when the ball was hit,
And made us give our best, of ship and shore,
Because we knew they were enjoying it.

How sad to know, we've lost the friends we'd made,
Down through the years, for lack of any shade.
© Ron Wilson