Ohio  

Take up the woman’s burden,

She, from whom I come,

Half fairy, half maiden

Beneath the eastern sun

Veiled with cloth of satin

And anklets to hail the charms

Of a warrior, a fighter

A genuine with opened arms

  **********

Take up the woman’s burden

With whispers of despair

And hum in awkward silence

Thoughts you dare not to share

Pour in the sweat of seasons

On fields that grow them men,

Who hit the age of reason,

Throw their equals in a den

  **********

Take up the woman’s burden,

From Algwira to Tangier*,

Her misfortune, her existence

Her getting by in fear.

Soaked in seas of prejudice

And looks of mere disdain

From a society of strangers

To her gift and her pain

 **********

Take up the woman’s burden,

And feed her righteous needs

Of equity unbidden

And wisdom to be freed

For she has might within her

Willingness beyond compare

To bring about the difference

And clear out your despair

.. And that’s my generation’s burden

*Algwira & Tangier: two Moroccan cities, located each, respectively, at the southern and northern ends of Morocco.

I honestly loved you, With all my heart I beg you, Come back to me, I'm being tortured can't you see,

With my insanity, I gave you my heart, With your cruelty, You tore us apart,

Does your world know the pain, Or the suffering of the soul, I'm like a dessert waiting for rain, And I keep waiting like a fool,

My heart is breaking, And your love is fading, I never thought our love would die, And all we had was a lie,

But here comes the sun, Softly drying my tears, Away from your delusions I ran, I forgot how pain feels,

Free from pain, And young love will rise again, Soon there will be sunshine, And my heart will do just fine.

Photo by Yassine Abouyaala

Tunis - After this coming cold winter I will rise up in the splinter With my steps up and up till I find the garden of spring.

By God

Of Earth and Eden

In this life

I have a seat

Bitter and sweet

Heavy and light

I will sit for a while

But then I must buckle

For my boat to set sail

And wrestle and wrestle

Into the Island of Light.

*********

Behold!

I have a feeling

Bitter and sweet

Heavy and light

That my life now

Has a beautiful meaning

Worthy of the struggle

That with my hands

I work and eat

Not to steal and smuggle.

*********

I have a feeling

That my heart keeps sight

Of what my mind conceals

my mind tells me I am a knight

So what? I reply. What of it?

My heart is fragile and bleeding

And keeps grist to the mill of it.

*********

I need to read, pray and weep

And my tears are drifting

As the autumn’s leaves

Have fallen and keep falling.

My tears are trickling down

But one day

I will lie down

And be at rest.

*********

After this coming cold winter

I will rise up in the splinter

With my steps up and up

Till I find the garden of spring.

*********

My life has a beautiful meaning

In it I have a feeling

Heavy and light

Bitter and sweet

always worthy of the struggle.

*********

For as the sun hides behind the clouds

And hides behind twilight

And people on earth wonder

Where has it gone?

What have we done?

The sun comes up with beautiful light

And when the stars sparkle at night

And people down ponder

How far in the sky are the stars?

Those giant eyes looking down on us

They still come up with heavenly light.

*********

My life has a beautiful meaning

In it I have a feeling

Heavy and light

bitter and sweet

and always worthy of the struggle.

*********

I will keep doing what is proper

I will keep doing what is right and sober

I will keep looking for the invisible fountain

Of love and life even in Parnassus Mountain.

Sometimes love is like water

It just slips through your hands

When true love shows up

You wish it could be bottled

It could be canned

 *******

Sometimes love’s like a heartthrob

Every drop, smile and tear

And you feel merry with

The promise it’ll never disappear

 *******

Sometimes love is like water

It just slips through your hands

No matter how hard you try

Love can’t be bottled, can’t be canned

*******

Sometimes love’s like lightening

Then it sudden disappears

Leaving you with a sore heart bleeding

Crying endless tears

 *******

Sometimes love is like water

When it slips through your hands

No matter how hard you try

You can’t hold water in your hands

 *******

Sometimes tears do shed down

Into the rivers of pain

That’s where love makes you drown

In murky waters from the drain

*******

Sometimes love becomes water

Like the dry and golden sands

No matter how hard you hold

Try to understand…

You can’t hold water in your hands

Shall I, in the long night of guiltiness,

Ask you for a scent of purity

And memories of kind innocence,

Which I miss now in puberty?

My childhood!

Would you take some of my tears

And give me some laughter?

Would you take some of my fears

And be my own shelter?

She stands by the sea crying

Waiting for her lost darling

To emerge from sad reluctant waves

To see his mother’s haggard face

 ******

She stands by his shape groaning

“Him or not?” In a sob murmuring

How could she! He half human

Almost unnatural

******

She knelt mourning by his corpse

Caressing his soggy pink limbs

Weeping for a cheaply sold soul

That got prey of a Strait pool

 ******

Listen! Listen now!

She screams

For the only thing she needs

Crying, no! Tears won’t gratify the waves

Screaming, no! Echoes aren’t heard in caves

 ******

Where were you, jaded woman?

When did he ride the first wave?

In or out? Indifferent woman

Alas! A poor child you could save.

Edited by Chokri Omri

Stop your little so-called justness game

Oh great heroes of vanity being fame

Playing with the human body and soul

Feeling in their bloody game so cool!

********

Throughout the old backward years

People struggled for shelters from fears

From cold nights and heat for survival

Not for greed, hunger was their only rival.

********

Now, headings gave your names a shine

Yet your human sense is but in decline

In your modern age it does not really fit

Nor should it more be given any credit.

********

Hang on, time won’t stay dumb any longer

It will record silence once torn by thunder

When the blind ones get their acute sight

When they all march, shout, it will write.

********

Time will, no doubt, weigh ballet and stone

And how many people are dearly gone

That death itself no more wants or enjoys

For human souls aren’t and won’t be toys

********

Then time will give its fairly, final verdict

Even your smart brains cannot predict:

A white pigeon is far from being a crow

Nor is a deadly rifle a fruitful olive bough.

********

A sweet home isn’t either an icy dark tomb

A nursery song is not a scary wailing bomb.

Now, the game’s over, hence stop the fight!

Damn the fake heroes, life is a true-blue right!

In the bosom of nature

When the time is sundown

I  cuddle the warm sun

Before it forsakes the town

So keenly to embrace the night

In a silken beauteous gown

No more I’d wait to fondle his gilded crown.

********

Be the vampire who sucks every drop

Of my raging hot blood

My seething passion, you shall not contain

A blistering cauldron, you would touch in vain

Gratify this body all unveiled

Frisk your tale and meet my nails

I’d bid you Tickle every nipple

And let  them laugh more than a little

Show me your ivory tower

I’d unleash it with my bare hands

And let it meet the flower

In the garden of magic wands

The room is dim as I crave him

Two passions entwined and brighten

Out of us, out of the gyre

The darkness of a long repressed desire

It is tightened and there looms the fire

Over their jeers and ire.

By Aziz Qaissi, Oulmes, Morocco

That long silhouette at whose end falls the wing

And the shadows strange, having come, should ring

You are the overlord of that fine string

Keep the shadow still and the silhouette not to fall.

***

Between the inks I bleed

And the words I draw

The existence burn or feed

Upon the dawn of terms I need

Try not to be treasonable

     Sail in that illusion

     Sail …

     Sail …

***

Jostling with these angles

Gapping that shapeless dusk

The mother earth offers jungles

 To the prisoners set free

And curses my words under the tree

***

Lift that cursed sign of your collapse

These whispers I used to hear

And try to get near,

Are melting with these lies I fear

***

The earth turns around the sun

    Turns…

    Turns…

And I - around this falling silhouette - turn

     I turn…

     And turn…

***

That long silhouette at whose end the mask falls

And between that fake face

And that illusion I embrace

Oppression in lost kingdoms reigns.

Alone in the corner!

Sitting,

Waiting,

Then leaving in stagger,

Gaunt and tall, bearded is his smiling face,

An old man is gazing into the space.

****

The deep wrinkles in his forehead dwell.

Make of his face a set of stairs.

On a log that his DJELLABA hardly covers

He sits silently????? without farewell!

Still waiting…

 ****

Aloof and stubborn,

The old man is of none but of his own

Always waiting and looking towards the mountain

For the last glow of the sunset.

 ****

Watching the sunset over the mountain

Halas! The sun sinks below the horizon.

Taking his walking stick home,

In  a great sorrow,

Hoping the log is not moved tomorrow...

Edited by Chokri Omri 

Photo by Paolo Moundir

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed

Seven in the evening

I stood up in the rain

13 minutes passed

Since I left my early poems, muted,

In the rain

As I was

Leave-taking my London train

*****

In Brighton Station

I stood up trying to do a Mary Poppins

With my golden gadget umbrella-in blue

Floating up to the highest height

I was going through a terrible eye pain

Gripping a hot starbucks coffee

My goblet dropped down

In the last flush of the shore light

*****

My muses went betimes elated

By a wonderfully glimpsing star light

It enlightened me,

Set off some strangely surreal delight

Upon my telltale sky

And that made my eyes' day

*****

My eyes were contented

I bought a Blue Trench Coat

Before,

From churchill square

*****

My new umbrella couldn’t withstand the heavy rain

*****

I stood up in the rain

Waiting for 27 Westdene,

Inside the bus

My Ferragano glasses fell into my gypsy bag

At arm's length from me

There I met a man who

Looked hefty and stout

But the truth, a human vigor

Comes not from body muscles

But from his long journey of soul pain

*****

By Tongdean Road

Each of us chose to drop off

He was much in pain

His face looked young and pale

He’s stifling in agony

Did he know his pain

Drove me enough insane

*****

At Meadow Close

Something I saw in his twinge

Something weird and insane

I said that's no fair,

You die in solo dance

It’s no fair, You who dies in pain

You die in solo human pace

*****

So your fever

To convalesce,

******

Have you seen

The last scene of

Love in Andalus?

*****

Have you planted

Your hands to serve

A darvish who is madly whirling in love?

Have you not withdrawn

A soft swan song

Near Woodruff Avenue or

In Valley Goldstone?

*****

Have you drunk from the river of

Fever

And dried your pain

With embroidered towels

Tearing in the wind?

*****

A swift pang I have received

In my heart

A too shelling pain

Into Meadow Close

***** Something I saw in his twinge

Something weird and insane

I said that's no fair,

You die in solo pain

In the rain

*****

I stood up trying to do a Mary Poppins

With my golden gadget umbrella

Floating up to the highest height

I was going through a terrible eye pain

Photo by Yassine Abouyaalah

Tunis

Today I woke up body with no soul

I walked dead by myself

Alone

My ghost was wandering

Heavy-footed

Around kronborg hall

Searching for my clock necklace

Hand-made in the old souk of Aleppo

*****

In the middle of no where

I saw a coyote calling me

And a neutron dying star

Winding up like a memory

Exploding into brilliant light

*****

I was ripped of my heart

Walking blind into an ascent fate

A fate which was rushing absurdly

In a haste

*****

I left my coffee maker on,

With a full pot

Didn't open the curtains

No dearly hugging

No morning dear

No childish nagging

Not even a goodbye kiss

*****

I woke up body without my soul

How long until I can read you the last news?

They would report my death soon

Crashed into a bomb exclusion

Not so far away

*****

I woke up body with no soul

You, ocean ripples, if you wish,

Burn these souls thirsty for death

Burn these hearts thirsty for passion

Tear these kingdoms’ beauty apart

But fill my heart with affection

-If not with hatred, oh, ocean ripples!

 ******

Lovely, like a foggy night, you are to me.

Fine, like the moon’s beams, you seem to be.

O, Dear Fraulein, Don’t you know

Beauty leads to perilous public vow?

And you, Oh, you! You are stronger

Than hunger, anger, oh, and thunder!

 ******

Overseas, your heart is sailing…

And mine, in here, is sinking…

Sinking…

Oh, sinking…

To thee love,

My flesh, bones and souls are worshipping

Weeping …

Oh, whispering…

******

You, ruthless love, if you wish,

Burn these souls thirsty for death

Burn these hearts thirsty for passion

Tear these kingdoms’ beauty apart

But fill my heart with affection…

Affection…

Oh, affection…

Where do I begin?

They were two love birds

One soul

Two of a kind

One was misfortune

One is fortuity

On an Andy Williams’ song

They danced: serenity.

Her lips aloud:

Life!

His laughs faintly:

Fool play

A sad waltz

Their hands kissed: farewell?

Their lips penned: felony

A love story

belonging to another time

In a sacred evening

On Ayloul the grody

In Beirut

Love was shed

In Athens

It was blood.

The picture shows Palestinian Martyr Khalid Nazzal with his wife author Rima Nazzal. Khalid Nazzal was the Secretary of the Democratic Front for Liberation of Palestine (DFLP). He was Assassinated in Athens June 9, 1986 by Mossad agents.

Sprigs of mint

A bouquet of nice thoughts

Passionate kisses

Warm hugs

Kind words

Sincere smiles

And the world is different place

Nicer habitat

And beautiful environment

****

Life is not about wealth

True wealth is that of love

Compassion and friendship

It is the priceless smiles

Of Mandela given

Generously to the wretched

And the hopeless

That rekindled hope

Worldwide

****

Life is not about stardom

True stars

Are people like Abbé Pierre

Who offer warmth

In icy winters

To the homeless

The world over

****

Life is about shaking hands

Across seas of hatred,

Oceans of greed,

And deserts of incomprehension

****

Let us breakfast on forgiveness

Instead of hate

The rainbow is beautiful

Because it is many colors

Not one

****

Let us lunch on love

For affection

Is what makes the world go around

It is necessary energy

For survival

In limitless adversity

****

Let us dine on sharing

For the world is bountiful

If we care about each other

****

After all

Is not kindness free?

Photo by Yassine Abouyaala

I am popular

I am iconic

I have so many fans worldwide

And swarms of groupies

That adore me

And take my eccentricities

To be religious rituals

I was caught by a naughty

Paparazzi peeing against the wall

And  they copy-catted

This stupid act everywhere

That inflated my ego

Beyond belief

I am a cliché to myself

And an icon to my fans

Almost their God

Whatever I do

Becomes their religious edict

I live for my selfish self

And they live

Generously for me

I am their role model

An honor I do not deserve

I squander money

Left and right

To satisfy my childish cravings

They save every penny

To follow me around

And attend my performances

I dress in drab

They do the same

I feel miserable

In my dresses

They feel great in their copies

I eat junk food I loathe

They find it delicious

I make faces and grimaces

And look terrible

They mimic me

And look terrific

I am a shame

They are a glory

They are nice and caring

I am rich and filthy

And full of myself

They are the true icon

Definitely not me

Welcome to the strange world

Of showbiz

Photo by Yassine Abouyaala

By Assim El Mimouni - Oujda

When the soul leaves one's eyes

And a corpse in a grave lies

When one's used to be huge love dies

With sorrow and grief nature cries

Yet the red flower timidly smiles

Sill wondering wherefrom such melancholies rise

Even my glittered ring flies

Towards pastures with no seize

The flower's wish may seem difficult to realize

When it comes to love, things should be precise

Hypocritical love is no more than rotten pies

But pure love is what faded flowers despise

The red flower was the angel's surprise

And my heart was given to her as a prize

And a trip to the unknown we organize

Wake up buddy, your lessons you must revise.

Photo by Yassine Abouyaala

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed

Candle on a red book, the picture said.

Vanilla stool in ashy room,

No need for loop!

So far, snow girl is dormant on the loam

*****

Candle on a red book, the picture said

Some rain in Syracuse, back to chill wind tonight

Heavy lake effect snow . . .

A storm,

Could be a story, sad, or mad, the other lady said:

Spring snow Syracuse,

*****

Snowball softball by Tinker falls.

Candle on a red book, the picture said:

One fairy tale, the late trees big show,

In a Thornden chivalrous ode.

Her window makes for tender winter,

Makes from tender winter

A wedding villanelle.

Her window, of the hills,

An Imazighen from North African climbs,

And now a literary wanderer into Onondaga,

Now a native of the hills.

*****

Candle on a red book, digital camera, and

lonesome goblet of coffee,

tune in on Bruch Concerto pour violon n°2:1er mvt,

Which is red Imme, the candlelight or the light in your book?

Photo by Yassine Abouyaala and Imen Yakoubi

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed

Love is flowing softly in the air,

And breathing it, I shall dare,

With these cliche words, I’ll declare,

That your voice makes my smile glare,

While your words glowing with poetic beauty and fair,

Word’s that are artistically honest and bare,

I asked the sea and the air,

Whether to write a poem or a fairy tale,

But I couldn't find the right words,

To describe the mystical dreams we share,

Dreams filled with innocence and pureness,

Exchanging looks form afar,

looks of fascination and attractiveness,

and maybe just for an hour or two,

I'll get to have some time with you,

We'll share our absurd theories and notions,

About the mysteries of the skies and oceans,

Discussing Shakespeare and Poe,

and everything else we know,

Passion is in the air,

breathing it, Oh please dare.

I was born a dreamer

Not a killer

Thought it was a tragedy

I survived the melancholy

I said I wanted to live

Not spend my life dreaming of life

I wanted to smile

And hold happiness tight

But happiness walked away…

 *****

I walked on shattered moons

Without hand or foot

And burnt my soul while raising my voice

In my dreams I survived

Once , twice and a thousand more

I left the blames blindly

Searching for a complex freedom

My voice again screamed the tone.

*****

They threw me into unconsciousness

They shouted my name

Killed me…

But all I was; was a dreamer

In the clouds as in the sky

A shining star

*****

Nobody believed

Many facts were neglected

But I was never a killer

All I was; was a dreamer

I even went to meet the sun once,

Leading my mind to leave their world

*****

If they want to make me a killer

I won’t be anything but a dreamer

Seven billion, perhaps before dawn

They would find a new killer

It won’t be me..

 *****

As long as I am there

I will always be a dreamer

I will live

Far from darkness and light

Creating my own sight.