Details |
Arabic Poem
|
... 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 — scarcely
ever after.
Thanks Deborah for "scarcely"
07/27/2015
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
We are so different
I am smart, you are less so
I am a man, you are a woman
I am trump, you are poor
I am beautiful, you live in a sewer
I have castles, you’re lucky to have drawers
I am peaceful, you are the extremist
I have armies, you have child suicide bombers
I have coffee, you have tea
See the difference between you and me?
I wear clothes under my head, you wear masks over
I sing songs in my sanctuary, while you chant the jihad
I have my god who is righteous; you have a god that sings of terror
My god is great, yours is a fraud
I ride in a limo, you ride a gay camel
I drink fine whiskey, you smoke camel fags
We you see… are as different
As night is to day
As sun is to moon
As Cain is to Abel
I own the castle you live in the stable
Goats and hogs your only staple
Now when we were in the hospital
Me so much better than you, you see
Both our sons sick of leukemia
You being so different and less than me
You cried, and you wept, and you wished yourself dead
If your child should live, you'd give all you ever had
Its then I saw, I’d do exactly the same
When you offered me a tissue
I confess I felt a wee little shame
Whatever hate you may or may not have had
Lifted, when you saw the child was your only lad
And when I saw this humble startling revelation
I realized how narrow and condescending I was behaving
So maybe we both learned a lesson of Job
A pity such sadness and pain had to bring
The realization to us both
We are not so different after all
We now drink tea in the olive gardens
Telling the young if they chose to listen
There is a better path, of happier wisdom
By embracing your fellow man
No matter race, color or convictions
Start with a smile
Make it last more than a mile
Great things happen
When us, the people take action
Yours truly
Two fathers
Of this world
Thank you Charmaine for the constant inspiration!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
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
|
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,
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
|
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
|
As heat bursts around,
silence lets me ponder on,
where I left my phone.
Copyright © Jackson LaBaugh | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
Today I did stab,
an eraser so white, pure,
it did bleed blue ink.
Copyright © Jackson LaBaugh | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
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
|
A child
Foaming at the mouth
Dying
Islam crying
Sunni tears
Shia tears
Drowning in each others fears
Off with the masks
Wear your smiles
Give heart and cheerful warmth
Not lectures and verse
Allow us women to converse
Follow the Surahs of compassion
Forgive the Surahs of revenge
Lets all grow red roses in our gardens
So that bombs of blood stop raining
On our children
Sunni and Shia civil wars
From bloodshed to others shores
Christians shout, no more!
Syria the infection
From Russian injection
Islamic horrors
Where is the west?
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
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
|
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
|
Two Rivers
Stark naked she slowly shrivelled her exposed vacant mind
shed dry viscous tears and filled the empty river in vain
Exhausted petrified her and the stream her inner self
bared to rugged contraction with one final squeeze flooded
the truth that she floated on sediment nevertheless
17th November 2016
5 times 14 syllables howmanysyllables.com
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
Such a disaster
Waking up in the morning
Shamelessly white
Haiku
Self- tanning cream
The pride of looking sporty
The mirror pulls face
Haiku
Deep philosophy
The poet is in deep water
Saved by low tide
Haiku
One types of success
When your work brings happiness
And not endless doubt
Haiku
The loser a man
Who knows he`s incompetent
Yet accuse others
The news I read
Been the same for fifty years
War and film stars
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
She is the bravest my eyes have ever seen
A lion bows, in shiver and fear
I am on my knees for I can not believe
A woman so beautiful, among us she breathes…
I offer this world and everything within to her feet…
I say proudly that I will protect her with fists…
She smiles, then gently she says to me…
I am a woman, strong and I do not need
Protection, for I may seem fragile
But I am stronger than steel…
I do not know what words to speak…
For I desire her love, and love her miserably…
But I have only my heart to offer
And she deserves better than me…
It does not matter that I love her endlessly…
She lives in a world that the devil dreams to flee…
And yet she stands strong with a smile shinning through her lips…
With a laugh musical, poetry to my ears…
She is a brave woman…gentle and free
Copyright © Zeki Majed | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
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
|
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
|
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
|
.
crown of dewdrops
left on a purple leaf
until king rises
Picture # 1
.
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
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
|
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.
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
.
The reds needed to repaint love ... pertain to the painter
.
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
line against the wall
fat birds too wrung out to drive
later, rooms' sweet ease
Copyright © Michael Miers | Year Posted 2014
|
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!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Arabic Poem
|
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
|