To the land of the flourishing dynasties

Prosperous ethnicities

And refining antiquities

 ****

I’m falling in love with the colors of your nature

With the hospitality of your creature

And with the beauty of your architecture

 ****

You are the one that bears the sorrow of the people

The malice of the devil

And the heaviness of the castle

May God bless the splendor of your mountain

Add beauty to the magic of your fountain

And have mercy on your innocent slain

****

My land, forgive me for not being so diligent for what you deserve

And not considerate to what you preserve

But my love to you will persist and run until death in my nerve 

Photo by Genesis Roman Melgar

Here is my precious blood,

The dearest I’ve ever had,

My parents’ and my legacy

By true decree, not fallacy.

****

 Here’s my scarlet blood,

 With my love dyed in red;

Its white globules are a balm

Transporting peace and calm,

 ****

Here is my blood dripping

Out with red and while petals,

Sly messengers to hospitals

Booing out death’s slipping;

 ****

Here’s my blood to re-use

Bearing my traits and values;

Meaning so little in view,

But so much to help rescue

 ****

Some souls in helpless need,

Some victims of a blind war,

Or of a reckless driving corps

Or a dry- sick heart to feed.

****

Here’s my blood; who knows?

As the wind oft randomly blows,

As it goes the other way round,

In such need I may also be found.

 ****

Here’s my blood not as a gift

But human due, to my credit;

I’ll never withhold its donation

Regardless of its destination.

I was infancy

A blossoming white lilac

Innocence, purity incarnate

All I knew was him,

My world he was

I adored my reflection in his pupils

A smile on his face was my nirvana

****

Nevertheless, being with him a dream was

Me on top of his shoulders,

Swaying along the shore

Climbing sand dunes, chasing crows

Piling up seashells,

Clustering their debris in the palm of our hands

Far from my arms he was,

Lands, seas, oceans ripped us apart

Squashed in a closed staring at the void

Lurking, weeding out baleful stares

****

His picture and I made one

Kneeling on my knees praying god I never forget his face

Mewling under the pillows, so that nobody could hear

My closet was my purgatory

Every year, coerced to watch him from the window

Crying rivers, seas, and oceans

Seeing him wave to me, a suitcase in his hand

I cooing, biding him goodbye

Him turning his face away,

Concealing his tears, sketching my picture for next year

****

My heart shattered into uncollectable pieces

My breath shortened, troubled

I thought crying could make one die,

Condone the soul to witness one final sublime

My brains evaporated, my heart in reign

A wink, I flit from the door

I jostled the air,

My feet no longer caress the ground

****

Flailed with the grim emptiness,

Time stopped,

Every cloud scudding froze

Every little dewdrop,

Every dragonfly,

I found no one, he was gone

****

Rapt with nothingness,

My heart stopped,

My tears froze,

My eyes dried,

All I could hear was a deafening silence,

And his voice singing my lullaby

On the ground, I drooped

Autumn, winter, spring I had to wait

To feel the impulse of his heart

****

Hitherto, I have his chemise,

A bottle of perfume,

My heart held it

The hourglass was inverted

I started counting the sand beads, drowsing on the pillow.

We were told the UN would resolve all our conflicts

By the sane wisdom of its objective specialists.

We were told later it’d rethink our security

So that we would enjoy our innate humanity.

We were told it’d intervene unconditionally

To reclaim our alienated statehood peacefully.

We were told the UN is ‘’God’s Eye‘’ on this vast earth,

So vigilant to the value of life and its worth.

We were told the UN is a referee, none’s friend,

And in acts of aggression it has envoys to send.

We were told the UN is intergovernmental,

Its humanitarianism multilateral!

We were told that the UN’s strong co-operation

Would so be an international obligation.

We were told that the UN, with no single distinction,

Would monitor powers and promote liberation.

Amaz’nly, for years our countries’ve been colonied,

So little stability and peace have been realised.

I have grown up a little bit- I’m grown up now, I guess-

To realise that the ‘’N‘’ started to read an ‘’S‘’.

I am at a loss, unsettled, by the UN’s mess

Misread’n, I guess, the acronym UN as US.

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

Instead of learning to walk in the blue

And learning not to feel the pain of my tear,

Come back before you are gone, O Dear!

Come back before telling me 'adieu'

I am afraid you will get lost in the blue

knowing not what to say or do.

You will add another pain to my pain

You will get lost and blame it on me.

Last night, I had a dream

And your shadow fell on me.

I am afraid of the days, O Dear,

That would make you forget me.

Come back before you flee, O Dear

Come back before telling me 'adieu'

I know you won't feel the pain of my tear.

Alone, you will get lost in the blue.

Do not blame it on my fear for you, O Dear.

If you meet him, tell him I don’t believe his lie

For I know his love for me won’t easily die

****

How could he act like he has already flipped the page

Pretend that in a relationship he is to engage

Be wed to someone else and live in the golden cage

Fool everyone to believe he’s the one and only sage

****

How could the man I loved think of such a con

Did he not find anyone but me to pull it on

Lie to me to remind me that he’s forever gone

And that from our past he’s eagerly moving on

****

If only such a white lie could do the trick

Could build back our relationship brick by brick

But the wall between us has grown too thick

As we hurt each other so much we became sick

****

Now I’m facing a dilemma I haven’t sought

which is, if I know him as much as I’ve thought

then, in a relationship he won’t be hastily caught

But then again, if I know him as much as I’ve thought

then lie to everybody like that; he sure cannot!

Enjoy being a student

For someday

You'll cease to be a student

Enjoy the weight on your shoulders

Enjoy the life you draw with your fingers

Feel and enjoy

Your seat's warmth

Your classmates’ warmth

Your teachers’ warmth

For at school, on exciting journeys you set forth

Be cool and don’t turn your teachers’ lives hard

Enjoy cheering up noisily in the school yard

For someday

You'll wish you’d never quit that yard

I know sometimes it’s just too boring, too tiring

To be good and work hard...

Be assured someday

You'll remember that with much pride...

Dream by night, dream by day....

I hope you understood what I did just say!

By Ghizlane Radi - Casablanca

After a sleep that lasted too long,

After a talk that was thought wrong.

My gem woke up in a plastic century,

Celebrated her holy anniversary.

Goddess of herself and her own,

Worshiped by night and dawn.

My gem comes in the form of a breath,

It stands among us in imperfect health.

My gem comes in all colors and forms,

To finally be raped in college dorms.

My gem was sold too cheap to too many,

My gem belongs not to me, not to any.

My gem made to whore for her youth.

My gem hidden from what they call truth.

My gem does not cry nor complain,

My gem only embraces the rain.

Hoping that one day, the sun will shine,

Hoping one day she can only be fine.

Had they not seen the beauty in this muse?

Had they not seen the songs in her bruise?

Who can they be and from which breed?

They are brutes of senseless greed.

But you can not kill that gem, don’t you know?

You can only kill yourself with her sorrow.

My gem is a woman.

Mystical creature yet so common.

To you, my priceless gems, I say:

There is no God worthy of us to pray,

More than the innocence in your scars,

I tell you not to be better than ours,

Ignoring the precious stones and diamonds,

To chase the cotton braided with lions.

Only not to be acted as beneath theirs.

You are the unknown power that scares.

You are the grace that we silently admire,

Yet we destroy you as an empire.

Forgive our stupid naive dreams,

We have never seen them so it seems.

Photo Credits: Model Vex Voir, photo by Joe M TMedia

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

The post Good Morning – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

Safi, Morocco

"Who am I?" She burst into a bitter wail;

"I am just a heavy burden; I am stale!"

You’re the lovely princess of a fairy tale,

You‘re the very woman beside the female,

 ****

You are the soft second half of the male,

The mother, the fuel of our wheel and sail;

You are the one who makes us all inhale

Pure air and the bad air you get us exhale.

 ****

You’re behind, boosting us and never rail

At our laze; on board, you are here to bale

Out any trouble that your smiles often veil.

For us, the wits of which you must avail

****

Turn your painful sobs into a funny gale;

You succeed your feats where one can fail;

You manage everything where you prevail.

Your virtue’s sowed in every mount and dale.

****

Its scent is so precious ,but not for sale!

You’re a spa of purity in the remotest vale;

We soon hasten up to you whenever we ail;

In drought, your gifts oft fall on us like hail;

****

In cold, you can warm icy hearts and impale.

In stormy oceans, you are our saving whale;

In sleepless nights, our lulling nightingale.

You‘re the woman, the bliss and that it’ll entail.

****

What would Adam have been without Eve’s ale;

How ‘d the stars gleam if the moon didn’t hail?

You are and remain the princess of a fairy tale,

We’ll be in need of your grace on a large scale.

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed without permission

The post Who Am I? – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

Tunis - A year ago, in the spring of 2014, Aspire to Inspire Tunisia’s event “Unleash the Poet Within You” brought together  passionate students, inspiring poets and proud teachers. Gathered with the unifying love for poetry, the vital need for self-expression and the unbridled urge to aspire to inspire, they rendered a seemingly common April day into an exceptional day of inner and outer journeys, new acquaintances and new memories.

A year ago, Aspire to Inspire Tunisia was born. However, this novice initiative was able to inspire souls, transcend differences and prejudices, alter negatives attitudes and unleash latent talents with the simple yet rare act of expressing one’s self. (Read Aspire to Inspire's first edition).

For a wider and more durable positive impact, Aspire to Inspire Tunisia gets back into action this year with a second edition of the event “Unleash The Poet Within You.”

Indeed, it holds the same belief that allowing the hidden self to relish in an outer manifestation through Performative Poetry is a therapy to the participant and an inspiration to the spectator. This year, it seeks to anchor that belief even deeper in the minds of Tunisian youth, contributing as such, to build a confident generation that dares to speak its mind and teach fellow  humans that freedom of self-expression is a right.

Nurturing this faith, Aspire to Inspire Tunisia aligns itself with the international tendencies to “Be o ne’s self.” Activists, influential figures, coaches, famous bloggers, authors, even movie-makers, cartoons and animes’ characters all strive to stimulate young people to “be who they really are,  to follow their hearts and  be themselves.

The issue might appear romanticized. However, forming a strong base of powerful youth that is willing to voice its concerns and desires is of a paramount importance. A generation that is brave enough to speak to the world about its perplexities and aspirations is a generation that acknowledges its problems. One that  is ready to move forward, for awareness is half the solution.

Determined to take part in this mission through the Art of Spoken-poetry, Aspire to Inspire Tunisia carries on the spirit of “Unleash The Poet Within You” this year, bringing new ideas for a wider reach and greater inspiration. Indeed, in order to tell more about its story and its inspiring opportunities, it announced the possibility for old performers to become ambassadors; these will be able to be representatives of the initiative in their own universities and high schools.

Aspire to Inspire Tunisia paves the way, in this manner, for a larger number of people to participate, work and feel like home within the initiative.

“Unleash The Poet Within You” will take place on the 4^th of April 2015, in the amphitheater of The Ecole Normale Supérieure de Tunis, hoping to welcome and host those who seek to inspire the world with their stories, their worries and their dreams.

The post Unleash The Poet Within You Blossoms Again This Spring appeared first on Morocco World News.

By Nouha Habouria - Tunis

The world of its colors is bereft

Nobody is here. Everybody has left

****

I must start The Quest

But where’s the rest?

Nobody

Neither in the East nor in the West

****

I miss the feast

Or some sounds of life at least

Bad fortune

Fortuna, Aphrodite, and Apollo were slaughtered by The beast

****

Today

Is Mother Earth’s birthday

Yet, Mother Earth

Is not celebrating with mirth

Its residents did not recognize its worth

Extinction was the distinction of the end of the story

So sorry

So sorry for they did not worry

About the end of the story

They lusted, blindly, for glory

Now, Mother Earth is hoary

Witnessing the end of the story

No glory

The end is grim, ghastly, grisly, and gory

****

They blew out the candle flame

Darkness was the result of their unbridled thirst for the unholy fame

This is how ended their War game

Each of them says: I’m not the one to blame

Yet in the dreadful tragedy’s cast,

They are all the same,

The villains of the game

“Harmony, Democracy, and Peace were the aim”

That was the claim

Now, the world is lame

Humanity sunk in shame

****

Callous voices are all I remember

Greed, revenge and selfishness blinded both the offender and the defender

And none of them accepted to surrender

The earth’s heart was torn apart

And there was no mender

I wander, I wander, then I wonder

 ****

Why?

I look around me

Everything is dry

Even my eye

It can no more cry

Of all what happened

I feel so shy, but I have to try

Dear Earth,

It won’t be a good-bye

We won’t turn a blind eye

****

I promise that I won’t stop my quest

For those who still have merciful hearts not ruthless stones in their breasts

I won’t have a rest

Till I find the rest

Then I’ll request them to join my quest

People from the East,..People from the West

I’m calling for your help with zest

On earth, we are all residents not guests

To save it

We must do our best

On earth, there shall be no oppressed, no suppressed, no depressed and no distressed

By our earth, the galaxy shall be impressed

With its residents, it shall not be cursed but blessed

Unconditional love and eternal peace are my request

So, join me in my quest.

Video of Nouha Habouria performing her poem "The Quest."

The post The Quest – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

By Hadhami Walhazi - Tunis

She visits many old faces.

Some of them are quite quiet,

Exotic, yet exhausted,

With a sorrowful odour,

That cannot be identified.

****

Those stone-like unknowns

Are crying his death

Announcing the time of

Perishing civilization,

Burying love,

And planting fears.

****

Like a stranger, she walks

Between the black long shades

Thinking about his unknown destination.

****

That winter day,

An apocalyptic sun

Is lowering down,

Announcing the heavy onus

That should be carried.

****

The warm home becomes

A blue meaningless house.

She becomes invisible like a mirage.

She wants to have the same voyage.

****

Her father, He was
... Hers,

Her hope,

Her heaven,

Her happiness,

Her everything.

****

Under the sacred moon,

An unstinted nimbus,

And a bright aureole

Are surrounding his

Slumbering body.

****

It puzzles her to believe

In his sudden death

In her daddy’s death

It burns her to face

The necessity of his death.

****

Refusing this unfair destiny,

Rebuffing their mourning,

Rejecting his great loss,

She steps with serious pace

Towards her imago in the mirror.

****

She gazes at her reflection,

Waves of woes widen from within,

Hardly she, discovering

The bleak environment around,

Feeling dismembered,

Recognizes her new

Lonely uprooted self.

****

Her echoed screams are

Followed by despairing sobbing.

Outside, nature is weeping, too.

The thunder’s boom does not cease,

The storm’s roar does not stop,

Yet, it moves inside her head.

****

She furiously passes

In unceasing movement

In search of unity,

Looking for security,

Asking about meaning:

****

‘Life is a dispute between

The paper and a pen

Death is the ink of that pen,

Which blackens the paper.

****

No more to think have I,

Blue tears, stop darkening

My dreadful day.’

****

Barely she recognizes

The endless essence of the end.

She turns her face and sings

Until light go away.

She closes her eyes and writes

Until her heart slip away.

The post Her Daddy’s Death – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

By Youssef Naciri

On a snowing evening she rose,

But I warmed her shades to doze;

So, her pride begun to grow,

As I rained long to know;

To this rose, I was one in her thorns

As flesh in her skin and Bones!

But as summer came by,

So long! Said as if to deny:

That snow is no fancy, but a lie!

****

So, she faced her threat,

As silence conquered her breath;

But then she broke the stroke!

And when she's done she spoke:

That out of roughness comes death!

That out of loss lies her threat.

****

Fragile as if she’s tied!

She felt as deemed inside;

That fate ceased her last cackle;

That fear waters her empty bottle!

As bullets in a rifle.

****

And then she said….

Oh ‘mother’ take me aside!

Oh my gentle pride!

My heart was raped

By a wolf all naked.

****

Still, by time!

She’d be old to know,

That she went with the wrong flow;

As we took the same boat,

The Anchor left us in the desert;

I sold out my meat,

As if lost beneath her feet…!

But the liver of thoughts remains on its peak,

Long as the books of each season speak.

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed without permission

The post Fragile! Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

Oujda- By Mohammed Zeriouh

We were told the UN would resolve all our conflicts

By the sane wisdom of its objective specialists.

We were told later it’d rethink our security

So that we would enjoy our innate humanity.

We were told it’d intervene unconditionally

To reclaim our alienated statehood peacefully.

We were told the UN is ‘’God’s Eye‘’ on this vast earth,

So vigilant to the value of life and its worth.

We were told the UN is a referee, none’s friend,

And in acts of aggression it has envoys to send.

We were told the UN is intergovernmental,

Its humanitarianism multilateral!

We were told that the UN’s strong co-operation

Would so be an international obligation.

We were told that the UN, with no single distinction,

Would monitor powers and promote liberation.

Amaz’nly, for years our countries’ve been colonied,

So little stability and peace have been realised.

I have grown up a little bit- I’m grown up now, I guess-

To realise that the ‘’N‘’ started to read an ‘’S‘’.

I am at a loss, unsettled, by the UN’s mess

Misread’n, I guess, the acronym UN as US.

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

The post The United Nations through the Eyes of an Occupied Arab – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

By Mohamed Lebshara

The medina of Fes is an old grandmother,

cultured, educated,

once famed for her great beauty,

once very rich.

Still she has countless jewels

and garments made long ago by the

finest craftsmen and artists.

But now she's old and sick and ugly

abandoned by her children

and grandchildren.

They used to come

to visit once a year

but now they're ashamed of her

and prefer to stay away.

Abandoned, her precious jewels

and golden caftans are stolen

and sold for almost nothing,

her lovely house rotting from neglect.

Her children and grandchildren

try to ease their conscience,

they say they love her,

talk about how beautiful and great she once was

but can't bear to see her as she lies dying in squalor.

If only they could realize their blindness

and save her before it's too late.

The post The Medina of Fez – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

By Safaa Kasraoui Rabat – The Blue City of Chefchaouen will host the 32nd annual National Festival for Modern Moroccan Poetry on April 7 and 8. The two-day event will bring together emblematic figures of the world of poetry to celebrate the literary art within the mountainous atmosphere of the city of Chefchaouen. The festival […]

The post Chefchaouen to Celebrate Moroccan Poetry at 32nd Annual Festival appeared first on Morocco World News.

Mourad El Hanafi

Enjoy being a student

For someday

You’ll cease to be a student

Enjoy the weight on your shoulders

Enjoy the life you draw with your fingers

Feel and enjoy

Your seat’s warmth

Your classmates’ warmth

Your teachers’ warmth

For at school, on exciting journeys you set forth

Be cool and don’t turn your teachers’ lives hard

Enjoy cheering up noisily in the school yard

For someday

You’ll wish you’d never quit that yard

I know sometimes it’s just too boring, too tiring

To be good and work hard…

Be assured someday

You’ll remember that with much pride…

Dream by night, dream by day….

I hope you understood what I did just say!

The post To All Students, I say – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

By Ghizlane Radi – Casablanca

After a sleep that lasted too long,

After a talk that was thought wrong.

My gem woke up in a plastic century,

Celebrated her holy anniversary.

Goddess of herself and her own,

Worshiped by night and dawn.

My gem comes in the form of a breath,

It stands among us in imperfect health.

My gem comes in all colors and forms,

To finally be raped in college dorms.

My gem was sold too cheap to too many,

My gem belongs not to me, not to any.

My gem made to whore for her youth.

My gem hidden from what they call truth.

My gem does not cry nor complain,

My gem only embraces the rain.

Hoping that one day, the sun will shine,

Hoping one day she can only be fine.

Had they not seen the beauty in this muse?

Had they not seen the songs in her bruise?

Who can they be and from which breed?

They are brutes of senseless greed.

But you can not kill that gem, don’t you know?

You can only kill yourself with her sorrow.

My gem is a woman.

Mystical creature yet so common.

To you, my priceless gems, I say:

There is no God worthy of us to pray,

More than the innocence in your scars,

I tell you not to be better than ours,

Ignoring the precious stones and diamonds,

To chase the cotton braided with lions.

Only not to be acted as beneath theirs.

You are the unknown power that scares.

You are the grace that we silently admire,

Yet we destroy you as an empire.

Forgive our stupid naive dreams,

We have never seen them so it seems.

Photo Credits: Model Vex Voir, photo by Joe M TMedia

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

The post Good Morning – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.

Safi, Morocco

“Who am I?” She burst into a bitter wail;

“I am just a heavy burden; I am stale!”

You’re the lovely princess of a fairy tale,

You‘re the very woman beside the female,

 ****

You are the soft second half of the male,

The mother, the fuel of our wheel and sail;

You are the one who makes us all inhale

Pure air and the bad air you get us exhale.

 ****

You’re behind, boosting us and never rail

At our laze; on board, you are here to bale

Out any trouble that your smiles often veil.

For us, the wits of which you must avail

****

Turn your painful sobs into a funny gale;

You succeed your feats where one can fail;

You manage everything where you prevail.

Your virtue’s sowed in every mount and dale.

****

Its scent is so precious ,but not for sale!

You’re a spa of purity in the remotest vale;

We soon hasten up to you whenever we ail;

In drought, your gifts oft fall on us like hail;

****

In cold, you can warm icy hearts and impale.

In stormy oceans, you are our saving whale;

In sleepless nights, our lulling nightingale.

You‘re the woman, the bliss and that it’ll entail.

****

What would Adam have been without Eve’s ale;

How ‘d the stars gleam if the moon didn’t hail?

You are and remain the princess of a fairy tale,

We’ll be in need of your grace on a large scale.

© Morocco World News. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, rewritten or redistributed without permission

The post Who Am I? – Poem appeared first on Morocco World News.