Long Souk Poems

Thanks to Muhammad Imtiaz for allowing me to work with him to create this piece. I added a bit of fantasy to his real life experience. He was moved by seeing poverty up close in...

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Hush! one whit elevation makes many,
Tislite born in Imilchil.
Who knows may write her own fate till her last day?
But only in a secret way.
Which can never be heard nor be told,
But Ait Hiddou and Ait...

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Wibble wibble wobble is a typhoon of trouble in a whirling mist of beautifully arranged but mediocre sand castles. Sand castles are great to live in. They carry the might of the ocean. The deep...

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A vivarium is neither a plant or an epic entry. Instead of entry-level why not try a bulbous flow? Why? Why is a  savvy question asked by a curved arched triangle whose speech is...

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Haunting Fruit and Innocent Wish


(Thanks to Richard for creating this excellent piece of work for me. He added a bit of fantasy to the real life experience. The market was situated in a Pakistani city...

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Welcome to the market place of the best in all mankind
buy paintings of imaginings with brushstrokes of the mind.
Words of vivd colour, tapestries of rhyme are shown,
your ears filled with the consonant sound of verses...

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An Englishman lost in afternoon tea,
Memories of a lotus flower love
Rajas and elephants in Delhi
Livingstone the explorer
Religion to convert

Laurence of Arabia
A leader of men
The Boers and the Zulus
Gordon and Khartoum
These are the things that shook...

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"Haunting Fruits and Innocent Wish" 


Once I wish to be in a Souk
In search of some grapes and Fruits 

On the way, I saw a poor woman with her kid
She bought him a couple of...

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The sweet fragrance of spices
Fruits ripened lush from mountain gardens
The bouquets of flowers scenting the air
Vivid memories of yesterday

Now the flowers are black petals of death
The souk reeks of burned flesh
As fires from hell fell...

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(Sponsor : Kai Michael Newmann)

MOON ON A SPOON 

If I could I would 
fetch you the moon 
on a spoon

Oh ? Really ! 
you ballyhoo coon
you make me swoon

If I could I would 
fetch you...

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We’re in the Souk in somewhere like Baghdad,
but not so land-locked. Tripoli, more like.
“He stole an apple – catch the little tyke!”
The hue and cry goes up. They chase the lad,
whose crime is hunger: look...

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Within the alleyways lay death.

The burdened bureaucrats on their lunch break
lounge in front of an orange stand
ignoring the masked face within the burnoose
snaking through the stalls.

Frankincense sticks and coffee beans
purfume the tumultuous aisles
as the figure...

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My heart is out for you
At the souk
 
My heart sits on the steps
Falling from sand to sea
Crying for you
At the souk

My heart whirls like a dervish
Around straggling lasses
Wending their way
To desert wells
Looking for you
At...

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