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Best Poems Written by Farah Chamma

Below are the all-time best Farah Chamma poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Twilight

Sealing eyes of sky,
       Descend upon straps of light,
Dusk…now dreams the night...

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Like a Poet Would Do

Let me love you like a poet would do.
Let me bite on the lid of my pen, thinking of you.
Let me write you down on pieces of paper and scribble you 
down on the back of notebooks.

Let me make sonnets to you and of you and fill your neck with haikus.
Let me translate you into polyglot texts and use dictionaries to decipher you. 
Let me spill black coffee on my verses of you and delight
in every bittersweet thought of you.
 
Let me use metaphors to transform you 
into a mockingbird or a blanket or  a fresh morning dew.
Let me love you, so theatrically, so dramatically, let me
be the moron of all the oxymorons I use to describe you.
Let me engage in a long soliloquy trying to fathom you 
and then weep helplessly, existentially like Hamlet would do.

Let me love you like a poet would do.
Let me love you with so much further ado.
Let me lose my senses and declaim my poetry to you,
and then lose myself in a jazz-like catharsis, singing to you. 
Let me implode and explode into a million little words, 
and a million little worlds loving you,
until I no longer am the poet.

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Brighton Streets

Do I dare look at you when I walk these streets?
Chase your shadow as it crawls under my feet?
For I have walked my way through 
These pleasant, summer nights
Trailing any trace of you in amber
Street lights.
Hearing the laughter of men and women
Drunken behind bars, their obliviousness
Billowing with the smoke of cigars
And once again I begin to wonder
In these thoughts that shatter, asunder
Of how unvoiced these nights have become.

The scent of scones melting in tea
The sugar, the beach, the creamed coffee
How foolish do I ought to be?
How much emotion becomes too much for me?
And the sun that strokes the clouds at sea
And hides its rays amongst them-
I watch… as all this beauty encircles me.

My eyes see not the glamorous dream
That has been haunting the lives of many it seems
The loveliness of love and its glimmering gleam
The word that is only word
That dream that is only dream.

For I have seen it on all these smiley faces, 
Hurried looks, and warm embraces
Can’t you see?
How we all have been entangled in one giant
Web of emotion?

Is there ever a place between Wordsworth’s
Daffodils and Poe’s Raven?
I walk these streets listening to a busker
Play his harmonica-
As I flip a coin into his flipped hat,
I wonder
How different we are, him and me
              Or are we?

Restricted we are to language and time,
Enslaved in memory, engaged in rhyme
How much easier it is to think of you and me
Rather than the misleading amounts of
Separating land and sea –illusory-
I observe and am observed as I walk these 
Streets, and I feel I know nothing of
Neither you nor me.

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Blue Solitude

The night lingers, yawning, 
Stretching its limbs across the sky;
It lies there so silently, so languidly
As if awaiting the early rays of morning
To come by- I wake-
I wake to the sounds of silence and 
Like the night, I linger in my bed.
Nothing appears to me but darkness-
Darkness that twirls a million times
‘round my head.

Upon these cold, air-conditioned tiles
I find myself walking so slowly, almost
Crawling into the darkness. 
I hear my head talking- talking so loudly
Even amidst all this silence.
How am I to know- how am I to know
Whether or not this whole night is but a dream?
A mere dream so trivial that it almost wakes me
And makes me part of its darkness.

From my window I see the night-
I see it lying there, painting all other 
Windows with dark threads of sleep.
I even feel my eyes getting heavier,
Yet something- 
Something endeavors to keep
Me awake through this night.
I continue to stare outside my window
Still listening to the haze of my thoughts.
How come all that is should be? And
Why are you, you and simply not me?
It seems that this darkness is not willing
To part away from me.

( Pause)

A voice- a voice recites its calmness through
This night and slowly approaches my
Window. I see it- I see it coming
My way, touching 
My window,  stroking the
Darkness away. 
My thoughts once again begin to bellow 
And say:
How come all that is should be?
And why are you, you and simply not me? 

I succumb to the voice, regardless-
And deem my thoughts forgone. 
On my window it slides- the voice- 
Almost so artistically drawn. I stand upright,
Facing away from the night which has now
 Become withdrawn- 
I slowly kneel down, whispering prayers to
The cold-tiled ground
And finally it comes- Dawn.

Inspired by a Al Fajr Prayer which is the Arabic for Dawn.

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Sensation

It crawls upon cold paws
To clutch with talons and claws
Nearing its prey, it hunts
With opening eyes and jaws
 
To shove with power and thrust
Upon insatiable desire and lust
It thrashes again and throws
Ardor so unjust

It bursts in colors of mist
In crimson hue and amethyst
Its forces like fireworks rise
Within emotion, organs, and amidst

In body it lies, in surreal disguise
Leaving no chance for mind to coexist

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

We Are the Generation

We are The Generation,
Holding tomorrow in the palm of our hands
Ancestors deemed us responsible
Yet Today only reprimands

We are The Generation, the majority
Of futile yearnings, beguiled by what
Only brings more shame…Beguiled by what
Only brings more shame

Embellished with the nudity we call fashion
Seeking the colors of the world in manicure
Beauty is now only material…
Attire, what a fine cure!

We are The Generation, we want to explore
The tastes of the world, in nicotine, in alcohol
It’s something we call fun!
Gossip, magazines… invaluable lore

We are articulate, we just love to curse
Between every couple of words, five oaths!
Our eligible vocabulary is written in scraps
In the fine poetry, we like to call rap

Love to us is very divine
My boyfriend and I have been together
For two months…eternity! We match, we intertwine
Our engagement is next week

Religion is to us an identity, a name
I am this and I am that
But we all squander our time just the same
We are one unity, remember?

We are The Generation, we are The Glory,
You know that magazine?
We hold the future in safe hands
We are The Generation… and more is yet to come

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

The Café

I would sit there for many hours
Surrounded by my contemplative silence-
My senses as warm as my latte;
My mind as frosty as my cheesecake 

The mixed scents of Earl Grey, cinnamon tea,
Mocha, and caramel macchiato would encircle me
Almost like they slowly become part of 
My breath: breathe in, then stealthily breathe out

I would hear laughter coming from one
Corner and whispering from another
And each corner would seem to me more like
A different world, each as distant as an era

I would at times engage in a crossword puzzle
Or skim through all the contemptuous headlines
And at other times I would simply read, think,
Write, or just watch some cars indolently pass by 

The sounds of music playing, coffee brewing, fork-knife
Clattering and people chewing would all form
A unanimous sound: Serenity
I swallow it down with every sip of my coffee


In these amber hues for hours I would sit
Amidst these faces, leather chairs, and empty
Spaces- the same coffee would brew, the same
Music would play, and my same mind would
In its serenity, so utterly subdue

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Ghaza

Grovel for blood, grovel for blood you bastards
 Hunger for bodies of innocent children and flee
 Amidst webs of mayhem you throw the world asunder
“Zionists we are, all so powerful, all so free!”
  And again the injustice of war compels me

                   To speak in anger and utterly be
                   I am sorry fellow poets if harshness comes with words
                   But the news gives me not any joy, not any glee
                   For the people of Palestine are now in torture
                   And all I can do is watch Ghaza fall to become debris

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Gone

Gone with the winds that tenderly blow
The time has come for you to go
I now shall stand awaiting this time
When emotions disperse like flakes of snow

To become a memory is somehow queer
For it now all appears so near
And an instant shall come for it all to fade
Into a night that at dawn shall disappear

Sorrow has kept me lying awake
Yearning to find perhaps a mistake
For desire leeches upon my heart
Provoking a feeling of an agonizing ache

In the throes of a sorrow so profoundly deep
A paroxysm urges my eyes to weep
Yet on the morrow I shall move ahead
I shall leap… I shall leap…

Details | Farah Chamma Poem

Brewed

It is in the blowing of winds and thoughts-
In the Fragments of coherence. 
Beauty swings. Laughter slides.
The sun-tanned sands of time crawl
In metaphorical rhythm. 
Meaning floats like a dawn-lingering fog. 
Damp yet almost non-existent. Gentle yet 
At times blurring. 
I wonder about anything and everything- childishly curious.
Playgrounds. 
Streets that extend in front of my eyes like 
Darkness at midnight. 
A blend of happenings.
A welding of perception. 
A farrago of senselessness. 
I am compelled to question every word 
That comes to mind
And then follow this uncertainty 
By inquisitive  why’s. 
Wings flutter. Shadows reflect on opposite surfaces.
Distances. One might think of speed. 
Time.
The ever-turning carousel-
Time...
Red freckles that eventually sink into the wrinkled 
Oceans of time. 
Time that brings with it only more time...
Clocks that tick..
Bells that chime... 
Smiles..voices..
Mishappenings and rhyme 
That only add to the dusty 
Contents of memory.