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Granny's couscous and Grandpa's Orchard

How many years?..ah !, i don't remember It was some olden time, around December That earth used to smile with varied fruits And the shepherd to play with cheerful flute ******* It was when earth was Yielding crops And from heaven, rains were showering drops That granny carefully gaily, used to sieve The crushed golden wheat earth would give ******** While grandpa, a sturdy dude like an iron trunc, I could swear, he was bullet-proof, like a tank That his flesh had the feel of a perennial tree log A fossiled engine, that did not lose one single cog ******* But, under that hard skin, and that bulky mass Lives a very meek sheep, a soul of mercy and class Beside being a gifted hunter, he was a good gardner Had a small square neighbouring orchard, for leisure ******** There he used to grow the best selected grains And was able to guess the time of drought and rains As his sharp insight into the weather was such deep That he could predict the very harvest season to reap ******* And while grandpa being busy trimming his shady orchard That teems with diffrent kinds of vegetables, fruits all sorts Grapes in clusters, oranges, apricots, the blessing rewards Granny prepares her yummy dish,.topped with mellow mustard ******** The olden flavours of varied sorts of fruits and vegetables, The clusters that swing in an orchard from earhtly paradise; The truthful tales told stories grandpa did live as a hunter, And a saluki with a sharp sniffer for spotting the lurking preys, Along with granny's best dishes, made by fairy hands,,. The loom that she crafted with elegance and skilled tact,- i could swear it was made by a genious human spider, when her hands caress gently a striged musical instrument. .all that was earthy, hand made, closely bound to nature, coming straight from earth, deeply rooted into ancestors treasury, bequeathed faithfully though geniune, conservative generations. ******* And if i remember that, every season he'd come loaded with plastic bags full of mellow fruits, and sweet honey tracing a broad ivory smile on his healthy, ginger face while a little boy would sneak inside his vast white djellaba trying to pick some coins out of his tight pockets, but, clever and wakeful as he was, his woody hand catches mine like being under the clutch of two steel pliers, that i have to shout and shout until i burst into flooding tears ..............to be continued....

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 1/10/2020 10:06:00 AM
I'm still waiting for another dish from your precious Granny!.. for "The truthful tales told stories grandpa did live as a hunter".. rendered genuinely in your wonderful poetry, Hamid.. Stay blessed and happy always.
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Date: 1/8/2020 1:30:00 AM
You opened the gates of your Art gallery, fascinating portraits and landscapes along with poetry readings.. displaying a deep sensitive life of golden times.. so cherished! so missed! so longed for! I do relate to this sweet beautiful pure and meaningful life.. I do feel the greatness and genuineness of these grandparents.. the unshakable roots of your nature nurturing your crave for Nature life.. A stunning and luscious beauty, Hamid! and a great pleasure to read. Deepest regards and blessings.
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POETIC FLAME
Date: 1/8/2020 11:02:00 AM
Poeple once, used to flow with life, they did not need to exagerate in any thing, they just would take what they needed, and say the exact word at the right time. owing to their natural way of living; so close to earth, to truth, to the origins of creation, spontaneity at its roots... they grew healthy, carefree, easy-going, and what used to eat was natural.. my grandpa kept all his teeth, at the age of 80. beside being what i said in poetry, and granny. was still upright, no bending back as she moves...they both died around eighty. thank you Besma, a pleasure shared, stay always happy.