Edition XXXIII

September 2018


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A Poem About You - By Razan Z Sam (Photo by Claudia Soraya).jpgPhoto credit: Claudia Soraya

A Poem About You

By Razan Z. Sam

There is a poem about you
on a carousel in my mind,
dizzying and
intoxicating.
so I spilled your poem on my paper.
My notebook cried a river of blue ink
staining pages upon pages
as though to mirror tears I should have cried.

There is a poem about you
carrying a lullaby of your voice along its lines,
uttering the saddest words known to man,
bringing no solace to an aching heart.
So your words
your poem
sink heavily into a well within my chest.

There is a poem about you,
a shadow on the heels of my shadow,
a curious kind.
lays in my bed at night
waiting for me,
whispers dreams of us into reality
holds in its palms a fountain of promises.
Your shadow, your poem.
My shadow, still your poem.

There is a poem about you,
an ode to the letters of your name
written in the dark and quiet corners of my mind,
settling in a home beneath my skin
so I surrender to the colonization of your poem.
My tongue speaking your dialect
your scent replacing mine
I have become the embodiment of your poem.

I am your poem.


Missing Air - By Yaman Nimer (Photo by Alex Iby).jpgPhoto credit: Alex Iby

Missing Air

By Yaman Nimer

There’s a room.
That room where most of your life
 — — you stayed.
That soulless room where the screeching
sound of the subway train is perpetual,
where all that looks back at you
 — — in the mirrors is hate.
*     *    *
And then there’s my voice,
 — — and these words.
If you can hear me:
there’s the door, there’s my love,
come be with me in roaring silence,
let me breathe my air into your
 — — collapsing lungs.


Bumble Bee - by Sabila Siddiqui (Photo by Paolo Nicolello).jpgPhoto credit: Paulo Nicolello

Bumble Bee

By Sabila Siddiqui

Oh my dear bumble bee
she said as she caressed
her soft honey colored hair.

Stay humble
through your flight so high.
Emerge with a special glee
of bustling-buzzing excitement.
Let your golden stripped wings
carry you to scope lands for enchantment
to collect those dusty pollen
and transfigure them to honey
for you and others.

A honey comb of a heart
resides in you my dear
so allow the honey to drip from your tongue.

And when science tries to prove
with their theories and mathematical proportions
that you cannot fly high
let them taste the sweetness
of your hustle
and the sight of your flight.


Dear You - by Eve Thomas  (Photo by Jandri Angelo Aguilor).jpgPhoto credit: Jandri Angelo Aguilor

Dear You

By Eve Thomas

It’s been a while down here; I’ve seen the bottom of his shoes
and I’ve felt the strength of his stomp, for too long, far too many times. His eyes don’t see me,
the way I hold him, and beat his name
every time he kisses you. I’ve been down here, breaking and aching
every time you take a long, weary breath
while the tears fall down your cheeks. How I wish, you’d forget his lips
and his kiss. How I wish I didn’t have to see you like this;
you cause me pain. He caused you hurt. 
I’m beating, but I’m scarred. Dragging me, on this cold, hard ground 
is growing to be tiring. I need you to forget his touch
and whatever you thought was his love,
because I need your love. You need your love, baby girl. 
I’m broken, and I need healing; keep praying,
we’ll get there, soon enough. I’m broken, but I’m tough. But I need you to try,
to forget his name, forget his eyes, and I beg of you, please
forget his smile. 
I cannot bare this for you any more, 
bring me back to the state I once was;
I’m tired of laying, lingering here on this floor.
I need you to pick me up, and gather all of these parts.
Signed, with love,
your slowly, breaking heart.


by-Nour-Abughaida-Photo-by-Nour-Abughaida.jpgالرسامة نور أبو غيدا

مرآة

الشاعرة نور أبو غيدا

أراك هناك واقفة تحملقين في ذات الإنعكاسات
تتأملين الذكريات ، تصارعين الهفوات ..

واقفة تهمسين للذات .. تحملقين في ذات الإنعكاسات
أكاد أسمع تلك الهمسات .. تدق جدران الصمت صخباً ..

وإنك لتشعرين بتلك الإنتفاضات ، وإنك تسابقين تسارع الدقات ..
تتعجبين من إبتسامة رسمت على ذاك الثغر في الحال..
تحملقين في ذات الإنعكاسات .. و تتأملين الحال و تحدثين المحال، فلا يجيب المحال رداً …
في ذات الإنعكاسات تحملقين، هناك تقفين بكل وقار …
تقفين وقفة متأمل ناسك عابد متبجل … تتأملين كل شيء و تحتوين كل شي …
في ذات الإنعكاسات ترين حياة .. ترين كل شيء في خضم اللاشيء …
في ذات الإنعكاسات ترين ما لا ترين .. و تفخرين في ما لم ترين …
في ذات الإنعكاسات ترين الذات .. تبجلين الذات .. تعشقين الذات ..
في ذات الإنعكاسات تشكرين الهفوات و تحتضنين الإنكسارات …
في ذات الإنعكاسات تمجدين الحياة و تفخرين في الذات ..
توقنين إنك من صنع نفسك و نتائج خبرات الحياة فتبجلين الذات و تشكرين الهفوات و تحتضنين الإنكسارات…
في ذات الإنعكاسات تعشقين الذات و ترضين عن الذات و تفخرين بالذات ..
لا مكان للحزن ولا الندم ولا الذم …
في ذات الإنعكاسات صورة الذات طبقا للذات ولا ترغبين بتغير شيء على الإطلاق…

في ذات الإنعكاسات حياتك ترينها .. ترين ذاتك في ذات الإنعكاسات …
في ذات الإنعكاسات انت .. و ما أرقى من أنت إلا الذات.


Disruption - By Fatma Almarri (Photo by Hans Eiskonen).jpgPhoto credit: Hans Eiskonen

Disruption

By Fatma Almarri

A program
was designed
for the machine
to abide
through the commands
that were typed
in the handbook

It was written
“Follow carefully
before ignition”

It came equipped
with chains and conditions
for on its own it learns
and disrupts

That was all that was written

Although it obeyed
and it listened
it burned
in its programmed condition.


Jose, El Arador - by Edilson Villa (Photo by Simon Wijers).jpgPhoto credit: Simon Wijers

José, El Arador

By Edilson Villa

José el arador
Nunca conoció la envidia
Ni la honda noche.
Ni le temía a la oscuridad.
Había sido feliz toda su vida.
Feliz y leal con las mañanas.
Rigurosamente, durante 897 lunas,
Se había levantado con el canto de los pájaros,
Y en la tarde, con ellos, se acostaba.
Nadie. Nadie bajo el sol radiante
Le conoció más de dos camisas
O un par de zapatos, pero fue feliz.
Fue feliz sin un televisor, sin Internet o un celular.
Nunca necesitó una Coca- Cola
Una Master Card, a CNN o un DVD.
Cada mañana saludaba la vida
Como bendiciéndola.
Cada planta,
Cada insecto, cada ave
O cada predador eran sus lazarillos.
Por eso no aprendió otro idioma.
Las palabras las había reemplazado
Por sus límpidas sonrisas
Y su escritura eran los surcos
Arados en su huerta.
Sus manos breñosas, en lo alto,
Purificadas por el fértil oficio de La Tierra
Hacían pensar que él podría, si quisiera,
Devolver la vida
O detener el curso de las aguas.
Unas manos gigantes
Repletas de mariposas
Que hasta las serpientes
Y los escorpiones respetaban.
Todo en él era un milagro,
A todos nos veía como hermanos.
Pero José el arador
Tampoco sabía leer,
Por eso no dejó su parcela
Como se lo ordenaba la carta.
Una mañana de diciembre,
Sonriente como siempre,
Lo encontré en su platanal
Abrazado por una traicionera muerte.
Una muerte distinta a las que él conocía.
Tenía un tiro de pistola en la cabeza
Y otra carta arrojada en su costado, que decía:
“Tomá cabrón pa´que aprendás a hacer caso”.


Paradox - By Mariyam Thahira (Photo by Doug Maloney).jpgPhoto credit: Doug Maloney

Paradox

By Mariyam Thahira

We live in a paradox

Where man made machines muse
more than their makers
and water takes more lives
than it gives rise to.

Scholars strive
to push people farther from God,
teachers thrive
to rob the natural desire to learn
and doctors drive people sicker.

Perhaps,
we were too fond of ironies
that we decided to turn the world into one.


Walking Wounded - By Sara Gojer (Photo by Velizar Ivanov).jpgPhoto credit: Velizar Ivanov

Walking Wounded

By Sara Gojer

Shells and soft underbellies,
much like the walking wounded,
tough armor with hidden defenses
to protect the vulnerable creatures within.
Bigger smiles, louder laughs,
much like the fluorescent fish,
all just a facade
protecting what is within.

Come Dorie…
It’s okay if you forget how you feel about me
Come Dorie…
I will remember for both of us.


Thank you to every writer for the thought infusing poems contributed and
thank you to every passerby for reading the art of our talented poets.

If you would like to have your poem or image published for the next 
Dubai Poetics edition
send your poem or request to be a “visual artist” to poetry@dubaipoetics.com

Join us again in our Poetryhood!!


Enjoy more poems from our earlier editions in 2018:

Edition XXV
Edition XXVI
Edition XXVII
Edition XXVIII
Edition XXIX
Edition XXX
Edition XXXI
Edition XXXII