my poem 2009
By: Ahmad Qadra
Translated by: Khaloud Almuttalibi
My poem is
A dove
with one wing
It sprinkles the ashes of the heart
on torn off limbs
......
My poem is
An an amputated hand
With its finger holding on
To the engagement ring
....
My poem is
A bloody lily
groomed and brightened
While being thrown at the coffin
My poem is
Severed limbs
Divided by shells
On the childrens' seats and notebooks of
A school belonging to the UNRWA
My poem is
The eyes of three hundred million
The tears of three hundred million
And the fingers of three hundred million
Waiting to press the trigger
My poem is
A child trying to light
A match
A poem rolled in TNT
On the river Nile
...
My poem is
A swallow with small tearful eyes
Not from the cold
...
My poem is
A missile that has not yet launched
And red circles on the pillows of the quivering
...
My poem is a smashed skull
A plant that digs tunnels
On the stone
....
My poem is
Beautiful Palestine
Divided as the leaves of basil
Amongst the raining clouds
Translated by: Khaloud Almuttalibi
My poem is
A dove
with one wing
It sprinkles the ashes of the heart
on torn off limbs
......
My poem is
An an amputated hand
With its finger holding on
To the engagement ring
....
My poem is
A bloody lily
groomed and brightened
While being thrown at the coffin
My poem is
Severed limbs
Divided by shells
On the childrens' seats and notebooks of
A school belonging to the UNRWA
My poem is
The eyes of three hundred million
The tears of three hundred million
And the fingers of three hundred million
Waiting to press the trigger
My poem is
A child trying to light
A match
A poem rolled in TNT
On the river Nile
...
My poem is
A swallow with small tearful eyes
Not from the cold
...
My poem is
A missile that has not yet launched
And red circles on the pillows of the quivering
...
My poem is a smashed skull
A plant that digs tunnels
On the stone
....
My poem is
Beautiful Palestine
Divided as the leaves of basil
Amongst the raining clouds
Comment
-
Comment by Kara Johnstad on March 12, 2009 at 8:32am
-
a poem roled in TNT --- ah, sadness comes up... i wish a poem rolled in fresh basil leaves and sprinkled with giggles... but the TNT is there... the division is still there - the fear is still there... and sometimes there are no words... and am touched that you at least tried to put words on something that no heart can understand.
love,
Kara
-
Comment by Shayo Sulbarán on March 12, 2009 at 4:15am
-
Amigo es muy triste y real tu poema. Que dolor se siente en tus palabras.
Cariños
Shayo
Welcome to
iPeace.us
Latest Activity
© 2024 Created by David Califa. Managed by Eyal Raviv.
Powered by
You need to be a member of iPeace.us to add comments!
Join iPeace.us