13 juillet 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
This poems is for all the children who are suffering from war. All of people involved in war have not only scars on their bodies but they also hold scars on their souls and traumas in their thoughts.
Twelve years old Yasir do not understand.
He used to play games in the street with his friends.
Their Moms watched them through windows.
Fathers took them in their arms and teach life through smiles.
Qaiser does not understand :
Why his father got arrested,
Why his mother got shot,
Why his friends left the street,
Why his home is in ruins.
Salma does not understand,
The life without her legs,
With her damgaed ears,
And all these horror scenes.
Sham does not understand
The silence before bombings,
The sentence of being terrorist.
Faisal does not understand,
Mourning upon his kid’s lifeless body,
Burrying it under mud,
His precious treasure.
Safia does not understand,
The sepration of her family,
The blood on the streets’ walls.
She wonders where the joy is gone,
And what times struck them.
Yasir watches once again this street,
He’s anxious and do not understand,
It seems to him that it’s his turn,
All his friends are gone already.
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20 juin 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
Getting involved in this world head down, sometimes we lose our trueself somewhere. Where ? Why ?
8 mai 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
And saying this I realized…
That the only reason of my happiness was you.
You meant the whole world to me.
Some supernatural entity.
All I wanted was a glance from you.
Your words to cool my heart.
Your arms were home to me.
But years passing by…
I drifted and finally got lost.
Then yesterday, in an interview cast,
when they asked me : « Who you are ? »
I recalled what had faded away,
I was…your child.
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25 avril 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
[ENG]
Oh house ! Tell me, you must have seen it all …?
Must’ve seen the humans in and out ?
Must’ve sheltered its tears and its happiness ?
Must’ve seen its soft voice tone changing ?
The noise of joy and silence of deaths,
The toddler’s time and the magic of youth,
Then the wait for death you must’ve seen ?
Oh house ! Tell me, how long was this dweller’s tale ?
This journey that your travelers must’ve written ?
To live like them, you heart must have beaten ?
[FR]
Maison, maison, dis-moi, toi qui a dû tout voir ?
T’as dû voir les humains du matin au soir ?
T’as dû garder ses larmes et son bonheur ?
T’as dû témoigner quand sa douce voix changeait de teneur ?
Le vacarme de la joie et le silence de la mort,
Le temps où il rampait jusqu’au temps de son ardeur,
Puis, l’attente de la mort, t’as dû sûrement voir ?
Maison, maison, dis-moi, si son histoire était long ?
Ce voyage que tes passants auront écrit ?
Ton cœur, à aucun moment, n’aurait comme eux voulu vivre ?
24 avril 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
I know Mum will respect my choice.
The bleu tomb stone would be her choice.
I know Baba will fill the forms.
And burry me as soon it can be done.
I know they will write a pretty couplet,
Bring me flowers and burst in tears.
I know they will come regularly for some days.
Talk as we used to do in old days.
I know my mama will pardon my mistakes.
I know my papa will hold within some tears.
But in murky and sunny days, I will be let alone.
With the whirling winds and graveyard songs.
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21 avril 2014 / admin / 2 Comments
My soul is said to flight every night,
When I sleep it leaves me,
Astonishingly, I remain alive.
I dream of falling.
Of falling for a very long while.
And sometimes of running,
Toward the sunlight,
But my eyes can’t open.
I keep running like this on the track.
My eyes cry and I am like blind.
Sometimes, I can not sleep.
Does it mean that my soul can’t fly ?
Banned or punished ?
Something like this?
It can not assist the meeting of souls held above ?
And what of when I am alone, and I start doubting?
Why do I doubt about something I’ve cleared once for always?
Am I The Blind, The Deaf, The Dumb ? I fear.
16 avril 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
Why is it that, I am incomplete without you ?
Why should my mornings start with you ?
Why should my nights require your view ?
Why should I need your presence?
Why should I feel this undecheperable sadness?
Why do you make me feel so incomplete?
You guide me through world when I need.
Give me information by fastest means.
You ease my life so differently,
That it has turned to dependency,
I touch you, I touch you and I touch you some more,
And when I’m done, I want some more.
For this relationship is not sane anymore,
Sailing too fast, leaving me at shore.
Dear mobile, I’m breaking up with you.
For I don’t wanna be incomplete anymore…
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11 avril 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
When she was three
Was labeled abnormal.
Unable to feed herself,
Unable to walk,
Unable to give my smiles back.
Disabled, my child.
I cried a lot that time.
Secretly went mad.
But then, there was she,
My lovely offspring.
Unable to express her love to me.
Unable to enjoy her life.
Unable to make friends.
Unable to marry a guy one day.
Along with her wheelchair,
Her mother and I tried.
As hard as we could to make our child survive.
With all of it’s ups and downs,
She’s in late 20s now.
But yesterday, doctors told me
She’s gonna die.
I went to the mosque today,
Like everyday,
And regardless of what people would say,
In His home I cried,
Cause she’s the one I brought up.
My eye’s sight,
My jewel, my reason of life.
For she should not die before my eyes.
And prayed with the depths of my heart,
That she reaps the crop of hurdles she’s been through here.
There she will be able and valid.
Two or three days left to live,
barely enough to say goodbye.
But my child, again, is unable to say goodbye…
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11 avril 2014 / admin / 2 Comments
Someone rang the bell.
Too late for someone to come.
I put down my book.
I wonder who came.
Because that’s not the time
Hapiness usually chooses to come over.
My heart skipped a beat.
Paid a silent prayer.
May Allah not destroy,
This sand castle I live in.
May not someone come
And tell me that things are no more
The way the used to be.
I made to the door
Scrutinized in the dark.
No one stands out side.
Some children made a joke.
But my heart keeps wondering
What if, the next time, it is not a joke ?
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21 février 2014 / admin / 0 Comments
Depuis des jours ou bien depuis des mois…
Quelque chose manquait…
Comme de l’inspiration pour écrire un livre,
Comme la vue pour voir le monde.
La poussière, dans les coins s’accumulait.
Les miroirs disparaissaient derrière la suie.
Sûr qu’il manquait quelqu’un…
Pour énergiquement balayer la maison,
Changer les draps, planter des fleurs dans le jardin,
Renouveler l’air de la maison.
Sûr qu’il manquait quelqu’un…
Pour cuisiner des plats avec du goût,
Des piments, de la couleur et du parfum.
Pour me débarrasser de cette eau sur le plancher.
Pour nous débarrasser de cette absence.
Il manquait un sourire pour embrasser la vie.
Il manquait de la volonté pour confronter la vie.
Et puis de l’imagination pour vivre ses rêves.
Pour nettoyer sa conscience et saisir sa part de bonheur.
But i would never had imagined,
That the missing person was actually
Me…
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