Dania Al Husseini

Mixing words and transforming images is how I feel the world.

Sometimes, writing is more of a challenge than it is a natural flow. But it’s still a love dilemma of mine. A handful of writers continue to inspire me to appreciate poetry and see the simplicity in everyday things, even more than I did when I first pursued writing many years ago.

When I write, I write in silence, I write in random moments, in unlikely circumstances- and distraction is not an option. Like a newly replaced lightbulb that’s suddenly realized it’s been dim for so long, that’s how I write.

Some of my other interests include reading, going to the theatre, travelling, and when the mood hits, following lengthy dramas on Netflix. 

My published work:
“Something to Reveal: Poems and Stories” by Dania Al Husseini

Find out more about me through:
My Blog 

brown-cloud-of-the-east-by-dania-al-husseini-photo-by-bilal-khawli-tshek-photographyPhoto credit: Bilal Khawli

Brown Cloud of the East

By Dania Al Husseini

It’s a news-worthy story this storm
Dark clouds that roll along the sky;
We have our own colors you see
(here in the East).

No soft blues, bright whites or crystal clear ice
But oranges and lemons,
Brown sugar and cinnamon-
The whole baking aisle.

Let’s dream that it were true:
Running underneath ingredients
Crumbling from a spiced sky,
Holding pots and pans
To catch tomorrow’s apple pie.

Weighing our food instead of our mood,
Mulling around instead of hiding out,
Rubbing our eyes raw,
Shaking out our hair, our heads
At layers of sand crusting cars, clothes
Because the weather – yet again- has done a forward roll.

Maybe the sandstorm brings out beauty,
Like when the same bird sings at your sill the next morning
Unafraid to land on that cinnamon dune.

Did you notice that it coats the surface of things
But never affects the core?
Unlike Katrina or Sandy or the others;
It shares a fresh picture
Like a thought that creeps up on you,
Like getting lost in your neighborhood
Or that thing you should’ve done.

What happens after the Eastern storm has passed,
After you wash away the dust?

Edition XIV

tales-in-purple-by-dania-al-husseini-photo-by-ismael-nietoPhoto credit: Ismael Nieto

Tales in Purple

By Dania Al Husseini

A cluster of orchids
perched on a lone branch
reach out
to a different world…
you leave your past behind.

Petals unfold,
slow, soft.
A feather’s caress-
unable to catch you
no matter how much she tries.

The supple,
touch of you:
Petals of suede
microscopic veins
your edges
lines silver, unfrayed.
Amidst hues of purple,
in a deep lull
she comes undone.

To taste you,
to scoop you up
her own paper cup
lavender ice-cream,
gooey swirls
melt off your sides.
droplets of romance
miss her mouth.
To hang around her lips
is what you want.

Clasped in her hand,
the flower bouquet chants.

Edition XVI

Not Just a Color - by Dania Al Husseini (photo by Matt Fortune)Photo credit: Matt Fortune

Not Just a Color

By Dania Al Husseini

I saved you a front-row seat
At the edge of my eyes.
Lean back, relax in the shade of my lashes,
Dangle your legs off my lids.
I’ll put on a private screening for you,
Roll scene after scene:
Break-dance, the waltz, sentimental serenades,
A beautiful movie awaits.
I’ll blink over and over
To caress your cheeks,
Then look into the mirror
To see your knees tremble-
All just to watch you,
Soak in my pools of grey.

Edition XIX

King of the Gemstones - by Dania Al Husseini

King of the Gemstones

By Dania Al Husseini

Free me of this bedrock, unearth me,
Break away the waste
Ancient shoulders shape my age,
Weather-beaten face etched of thin silk
I’m no artificial beauty

Pigeon-blood surges
Crimson cranberry force
Scarlet rose rushes through fiery soul.
You think I’m so fragile
In rarest pure form,
Corundum won’t crumble
Test the strength that I am.

They say your best friend is Diamond,
And I’m just second best;
I say I’m your King for always
Your Ruby,
Your finest gemstone.

Edition XX

The Woman on the Stage - by Dania Al Husseini (photo by Monica Lacey)Photo credit: Monica Lacey

The Woman on the Stage

By Dania Al Husseini

Table lamps
In a known hangout.

Strings of verse
Find their place,
In the seated crowd-
To the tall man
In the back.

A woman’s satin blouse
Is an invite
Of fake lashes and pouts,
To a man
On her right.

‘Connect the dots’,
Her eyes say.
‘Play my game of cat and mouse.’

But he turns away

Whose mouth
Forms melodies
Of melancholy
Behind the mic..
Whose eyes
Recline in
The shadows of
Deep, bronze dust,
Lined as a feline’s
In regal green.

Like an artist who draws an outline
He’s enthralled as she recites,
While the woman in satin
Flips her hair and
Restless in her seat.

When the lights turn on,
And the mic’s made its last sound,
She bows down
To the crowd,
And catches the
Of a familiar face
Seated in the back.