Jamil Adas


A man of many passions I try to live my life to the fullest. My expansive interests are in sports (football; typical), literature, music, culinary experiences and business building.

I founded Dubai Poetics on 1 January 2016 (talk about New Year resolution) and have been honored by the growth of the Poetryhood and the support from all the contributors (poets and artists) as well as readers and admirers.

I am always concerned with the development of the society I am a part of and constantly looking for ways to contribute to the advancement of thoughts and lifestyle of my peers.

I’m available for a serious talk about opportunities and collaborations to random chit-chat so feel free to contact me through:
Email: jamil.adas4@gmail.com
Phone: +971 50 358 5042
Jamil Adas on FB
Jamil Adas on Instagram

Jamil Adas on LinkedIn

Edition XXXX

الحلم كبير - by Jamil Adas (Photo by Hakim El Haj).jpgالفنان حكيم الحج

الحلم كبير

بقلم جميل عدس

الحزن الأبدي هو أنُّ
ما تصدق حلمك

حلمك بيكبر
من كل عرق بينزف من جبينك

الأمل بيمطر فوق راسك
و الحلم بيكبر

الحلم بيكبر
لمّا تقابلها

حلمك كبير
بيوسع الدنيا و كل ما فيها

انجز، بتفلح.. صدقني
الحلم على طرف أصبيعك

Edition XIV

guiding-sheep-to-wolves-by-jamil-adas-photo-by-matt-fortunePhoto credit: Matt Fortune

Guiding Sheep to Wolf

By Jamil Adas

Radios preach religion
on the streets of my city.
Brothers and sisters reiterate radio waves in
self-fulfilling speech
as if wisdom comes that cheap.

Paid blabbers paid to repeat
hoping machine-head ears are switched on
like message-machines.

Crooked minds looking for answers to explain
why disaster strikes again, and again
to prove the mistake couldn’t possibly be in us!
Otherwise, cover it up.

Oh mighty mind, Awake!
Forget their riches and their thrones
unearth beauty in forms unknown.

TV prattles for soul selling
in picture-perfect;
immortal paragons in a box
while you decay and found wizened,
dead in front of a dream unsold-
venture off before your life is mourned.

Edition ITick Tock - by Jamil Adas


By Jamil Adas

Tick-tock the clock struck
Within pillowy dreams my head sunk
Bits of my past crackle into envisioned futures
Infinite dimensions of cognitive conjunctures
Exaltation of a story a brain conjured up
Sensing longevity never lasting

Tick-tock the time tornadoes
Unconscious of its everlasting run, only aware of
The fixed number of beats my heart can drum
The shut eye will dream until it does not
The sun will rise while window panes are locked up
A moonlight will beam
Yet no imaginary dream

Tick-tock the second-hand strung
These words; figures in my brain
I must be beating; soul yet not flung
Sounds are heard, tis thunder and rain
I will be brave

Tick-tock didn’t matter
I’m unperturbed by the clock

Edition IIWe Are More - by Jamil Adas

We Are More

By Jamil Adas

By the power vested in us from the lord
We turn nothing into gold
So lo and behold, how
Speech can turn mimics into champions
We conjure lyrics that leave an empowered sense;
We are alchemists of the soul

Undertaking life like mad scientists
Not in need of drums or beats
To disguise our speech;
Echoing silence paves for self-reflection
Infuses a peaceful perception
Intrinsically worth more than a mass diamond collection.

Ignore the fear feeding news and their curfews
You are the engineer of your own virtues
So drop the idle habits, revolt and scream:
“Life is worth more than what you make it to seem”

Edition III

Athazagoraphobia - by Jamil Adas (photo by Hind Adib)Photo credit: Hind Adib (Founder of Hind Adib Fashion)

(A morbid fear of being forgotten)

By Jamil Adas

From a kid to a man in a blink of an eye
Many tears I shed for every blink I cry
Hopeful dreams a second ago alive
A stagnant second later they die

Piercing through my heart the concept of time
How any moment could be the sound of my chime
To settle the body within dirt beneath stone
To become a soul with no body to hold

Pondering forever about what to do next
Next never came, I’ve rather grown perplexed
Like a queen in chess cornered and vexed
Blocked by its pawns; destiny is death

Without a rightful cause, goal or an aim
Finished off static; existence in vain
Phobia set sail to the heart through the veins
To force the world to remember my name

Edition IVGrown Simba - by Jamil Adas (photo by Jacques Briam)Photo credit: Jacques Briam (Founder & curator of Wild About the Wild)

Grown Simba

By Jamil Adas

A cub born cut with half a heart
crowned with infinite energy
relentless against the odds.
A joke played by smiling Gods.

The sun sparked in his chest
pure power, Satan trembles when he witness
what young Simba resembles.

belief in strength unsensed
in a mammal thought to be created to fill guts
but Earth will digest those same guts before that happens

But is he just?

During the light, darkness turns shadow
turns optimism into sorrow.
Shadow’s back against the wall it evolves
into new forms to stay alive.

The mirror reflected light
reflected darkness to its plight
shed the truth that is within,
“You are Simba!” the heavens cried

Young cub, heart of a lion
will you grow wiser in age?
Or wither older in rage?

Simba replies:

My existence need not call Death
I broke his fast dial button from my DNA
vegetation can maintain my breath

Mother Nature is all powerful
but I’m convincing
I was young cub, grown Simba
you’ve dealt me to the world
now it’s my turn to play my role.

I’ve made my choice
so hear my voice of peace;


Edition V
Mr. Nargy - by Jamil Adas

Mr. Nargy

By Jamil Adas

Patience, Patience Mr. Nargy,
let your feelings touchdown lightly.
Heed the lesson and make it count,
no other way will your mind sprout.

Mr. Nargy knows he’s a lout,
still, he likes to sit and shout.
As the dust settles, he’s composed,
his boy bleeding on the floor.

Boy realizes the devil has left
His father back to his righteous self
“Father, father let’s play again
I’ll play the devil and you be the saint”

Edition VII

Aristotle's Ingredients - by Jamil Adas (photo by Matt Fortune)Photo credit: Matt Fortune

Aristotle’s Ingredients

By Jamil Adas

Logos commends my rational flow of logic
when I mold sense into a box
that never surmounts to anything special,

but Pathos…

Well, Pathos could never play it cool.
Pathos boils blood when thirsty for soup.
Pathos likes to believe I have wings
and then push me off the bridge.
Pathos can find meaning when carving out initials with my blood-dripping nails.

I need to keep Pathos on a leash,
sporadically playing with my powers I can never plan ahead.
He’s a bulldog and I’m a skeleton constantly fleeing his thirsty bite.

At the end of the day, I’ve got Ethos on my side.
For whom other than I will be my body’s main guide?
I, who commands my hand to grip and it will clinch
I, who commands my tongue to roll the “R” and it will ring in your ear.

Ethos hands me the quill facing my book of destiny
giving me the choice between my brain or my heart.
But it also makes me think that I am a god.

As long as I am in a Zen state of mind
these ingredients bow to my will and thought.

Edition XIsocial-judgments-by-jamil-adas-photo-by-cristian-newmanPhoto credit: Ismael Nieto

Social Judgments

By Jamil Adas

Judgments will make us monsters
Monsters that don’t want to foster
A co-existential concept
Let’s strive to try and offset
The hatred that’s in our conscience
We rise yet we are bound to falter
(Human) Nature in a minuscule nutshell

Video Archive

“Reading My Grandfather” – by Jamil Adas

“Dating” – by Jamil Adas

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