Best Hassan Poems

The years have faded
Your voice caresses us from the afterlife
Sweetly delivered to us from paradise
Whimsical music that made us happy with dance
Music that joined us...

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I'll never forget the date, the nineteenth of November
It's etched firmly in my mind, and I'll always remember
It was the day that I had my...

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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...

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a cycle in eight parts
with a slightly criminal coda
(quickly recanted)



I - the thing


the thing the thing the thing!

oh the thing

     ...

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a cycle in eight parts
with a slightly criminal coda
(quickly recanted)


copyright T.H.A. Hassan,
the ZKH Foundation for Holistic Human Development
18 Mohammad Saleh Street, Dokki, Cairo, EGYPT
tel/fax 20...

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Logo streets
 Tarek Hassan

I saw in Kathmandu in Nepal

Hand-crafted paintings of the city, aesthetic artistry

She did like him forgot

Suddenly the door sound  memory.

I went to...

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A Talismanic Incantation
By Faleeha   Hassan
Translated by Mahmoud Abbas Masoud
I gathered the pores of my being
And came to perfume them with your own fragrance
Only...

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Today wasn’t a good morning at all for Hassan,
a victual merchant in Baghdad
Thirty four customers got killed by a suicide bomb
A jihadist Arab wearing an...

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Illuminated city
Tarek Hassan

No one in the darkness of night
That strange bird wings
The town was illuminated,
I was fascinated to see continue make-
For a moment was lost...

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The Needle’s House
 Waiting For the Third Time Out
 Arabic Poem by: Salah Hassan *
 Translated into English by:
 Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
 ======
 
Between me...

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Black Iraqi Woman
Written by Faleeha Hassan
Translated from the Arabic by William Hutchins
Shortly before my father died, he whispered to me longingly: “Daughter, treasure this, because...

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We lingered too the passenger like
awaiting the snake that runs on dike
We sat, hands tied to lower jaw like
Mom waiting for her dour child to...

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My dear sister from another land
let me take you by your hand

I'll be your compass, your GPS
Navigate you through this wilderness
I'll be your lamp that...

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I felt that I had to write a poem to understand what Frances Inglis must have gone through 
after reading an article by Hassan Suroor...

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suddenly the beauty fades
and the masquerade becomes a crimson deluge
somewhere out of nowhere, incoherence reveals her uglier side
the stone soup of badly timed revelation is...

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