How does it taste
My hand...?
The hand that fed you...!
You have been chewing on it
Through and through
For a while now...

The hand that hurts
From providing...
So much
That it came close to breaking
Just to protect you
From starving

The hand that hurts
And shakes
So much
That I can't even eat with it anymore
And as such
Will remain
Hungry
And probably die

I'm angry

I am angry with you
But the worst thing is
That I can't hate you
Because hating somebody you love
Hurts even more

I am angry
Because in my core
I was sure that you would do that
And all I did was
Ignore...
And you thought I didn't have a clue?
I gave you the cue
For this to happen
And I didn't pull my hand
And accepted for it to remain soar
Full of marks from your bites
And the endless nights
Of providing..
For such a long time
Telling myself
It’s fine
Because the bite
Of somebody you love
Is sweet
As honey

But now you are full
And it doesn't matter if I pull
Or leave my hand there
For you to take a last bite
You are just waiting for the fight
So that you can run away
And never look at me again

How does it feel
To be a traiter
How does it taste?
Bitter?
Only my tongue
My hand is sweet

Hand biter...!

Photography* is poetry using light.
Poetry is painting with words.
Painting is sculpting on eyes.
Sculpting is music for stones.
Music is writing through feelings.
Writing is pottery with thoughts.
Pottery is photography of clay.

Me, rough brown bread;
You, soft pale butter;
Honey...
Let's be breakfast together...

Minimal
Live could be more optimal
If you let go of things, trivial
And focus on the real capital
Time and space, the memory
Of experiences, friends, and family
Nice gestures and charity
The joy of clarity
The depth of sanity
A better grasp of reality
More options through more money
By spending on what matters

Minimal
To love people and not things
To be who you are and not what you own
A tidiness in hindsight, in the mind
A sense of being light, feeling right
Another understanding of freedom and slavery
The slavery of things
When you don’t own things but things you
Because things hold you back and therefore
Freedom comes from less stuff, not more

Nostalgia?
But here is the thing
Memories might die
If you cut off their wings
If you capture them in things
And lock them up in dark closets
They live in your mind, not in items
They need to be free
Fresh, revived, preserved
Through presence, not hoarding

Memories live
Through pictures
Digitized in devices
Always in your pocket
Cherished in your mind

Memories live
Through words
Written by you
In diaries worth keeping
Which take you back in time
But don’t fill up your space

Memories live
Through stories
You tell others and others tell you
Face to face and soul to soul
With some coffee in-between

Minimal
Clutter is not optional
Get rid of worthless stuff
Boxes and countless little toys
One zillion paper clips
Sad chairs and old clothes
And all the dusty things
That occupy your life
And turn it into junk

Spend less
Less things
Think more
Be free
Live life
Minimal

Broken in pieces like thin branches for wood fire;
Worn out like a cloth fifty years old;
A trunk invaded by termites,
Rolling down a hill full of rocks;
A carpet walked over with ***** shoes,
Covering the floor of a once busy hallway,
Now abandoned and invaded by mold;
The paleness of a ruin one thousand years old,
Submerged in a thick sea of fog;
The rust on an old broken truck,
Mixed with dust to form an adhesive substance,
Eating the metal through to its core;

Combine this all together,
And imagine it's a feeling.
That's how I am feeling right now...

Sometimes, writing poetry feels like...

Playing Charades using metaphors to describe your actions
Solving Jigsaw Puzzles to assemble your current thoughts
Using Ouija boards to converse with your own feelings

Sometimes, reading poetry feels like...

Playing Poker when you study the writer's intentions
Connecting the poet's thoughts as if you were playing Dots
Figuring out the writer's feelings like in Strings

                                                      ­         Anyways, its always *fun!

Dear Earth,...*

Eighty seven times
 Did you circle in your dance
  With grandpa the golden sun
   Many thousand times
    Did you spin him round and round
     And your dance keeps going on
      ...
      But you dance so wild!
       Ignoring that he is tired
        And his uncountable pains...
         Let him catch his breath!
          Can’t you notice his bad cough?
            ...
           Why being so rough?
           Where’s the fun in that?
           He is dizzy now!
          Let him rest the night.
          ...
         Why not dancing slow
         Like most ladies love to do
       And let him for once
      Be the man he always was
     Let him lead the waltz!
    ...
   Why on purpose step
 On his foot and let him limp
Loosing his balance
While you continue the dance?
...
Why the need to sing
Almost scream extremely loud
Making his ears ache
 On the fringe to become deaf?
  Why not hum along
   While you dance to moonlight songs
     Like most ladies do?
      ...
      Why stealing the dance
       With his wife during their song
        But give her away
         To some strange and lonely star
          Quickly getting back
          Not letting him do some talk
          And mingle to share
          Some of his dreams with others?
          ...
          But you are selfish!
          You will keep him for yourself
         While we know that once you’re bored
       You’ll do just the same
      With him, like you’ve always done
    With others and let him go
  After he’s tired and soar
  Let another star take him
And then once he’s gone
You’ll keep going on
Looking for more fun..
Dancing with others...
...
Please...
Slow down...!

If I would have a fight with you
I'd suddenly smile and calm down
You'd say: Wait! I am not yet done!
You and I? No! We are not through!

I'd say: Okay, if you say so...
I only looked you in the face
Despite the anger and the frown
I still can see beauty and grace

And then the fight would really end
With a deep kiss, and long embrace...

Acid in my eyes
Writing, reading, researching
Leaf in vast ocean

Clothes, not bluer than your soul.
Soul, as blurry as your eyes.
Fears…
Worries…
About your child…
Son…
As innocent as snow…
In the earliest morrow…

Sighs…

How much did you wipe today
With a big piece of your heart,
Through the challenges of his life…?

How much did you whip today
With long echoes from the past
Your scared back with more remorse…?

How much did you add today
From the pure drops of your love
When you early warmed his meal
Raising him healthy and strong…?

How much did you think last night,
Of the events of his day,
And the games he used to play
Of the quarrels with his friend,
And the absence of his dad...?

What will he do to survive…?
Will he be happy and fine?
Will he smile and learn and thrive?
Know what to do with his life?
Could you worry even more?

How much did you safe today?
How much did you self-deprive?
How much did you sleep at night,
Since you’re working all time?
Is something left for yourself?
How are you dealing with pain?

*Angles of all heavens..
Flowers of all gardens..
Jewels of all shops…
All goodness in all lives…
Don’t come even close to
Offsetting sacrifice
Of Motherhood!

When I
Remembered
Your name

When I
Imagined
Your smile

Heart beat...
                   ...Heart beat

When I
Received
A message

Containing
Some of
Your thoughts

                        Bright eyes...    
Bright eyes...

When I saw
Your face
Blushing

From
Something
That I did
Say

                     Hot ears...
                     Hot ears...

When I listened
To your voice

Whispering
Something
So cute

Goose bumps...goose bumps...

When I
Noticed that
Your eyes

Started to
Tear from
My talk

Melt
       Down
                  ....
                  Melt
                           Down...

But since all
Is over
Now

Everything
Feels
So mundane

                      
Silence.

                    Just.

Silence.

Smelling the sunrise
All the new light
And the chances
That are ahead.

Feeling the wind blow
And its freshness
The soul of the world
Coming to life

When the dreams
And the nightmares
All die of
All as before

When your loved ones
Are around you
Or you remember
They are not

When you wonder
What just happened
How it did come
To what is now?

When you ask yourself
Where did all the years
And all your goals
Just disappear?

Smelling the sunrise
And the new days
And the bad smell
Of your old ones

Smelling the surise
Is how your life smells
You decide
If good or bad...

Every word you say
A painting in my ear,
About your secrets

Every thought you have
A story in my heart
About your life

Every look you give?
Poems in my eyes
About your pains

Every thing you do
Sad songs in my mind
That are eternal

Nobody knows
Except my soul
About your secrets…

                        ....So tell me

I don’t write with golden pens
I write with feelings woven in insomnia  
Inked with the darkness of nightmares
And the long thoughts of the night

I don’t climb mountains
I fall off cliffs
Past my escaping days
Into myself
And find nothing...

Breathe deeper
Maybe the air will escape the abyss
And release you...

Today she said
To herself

'I love you'

And broke in tears
She has been shamed
Without knowing
Lived in fears
Not realizing
Fear and shame
Has been eating her up
From inside
Forever
Without her
Having a name
For those deep pains

But in these days
After writing poems
And  dreaming awake
And feeling things
Not felt before
She now sees
With clear mind
What hurts
And why
And that she could
In fact she should
Have a better life
In which she strives
To explore the land
She call home

Herself...

And rebuild it
With beautiful words
Only poets can create...

The aging woman
All her life
Striving so much

Not only fixing bodies
But hearts
She spent her life

Pious old man
Reading the Quran
Always watching skies
For non existing storms

His daughter, my aunt
Silent like a pond
Longing for her child
Sitting next to her

Her husband, a martyr
Captured in a frame
But surely his soul
Floats somewhere around

Their daughter, a mum
Peaceful like a dove
A physician in love
With some plants and seeds

Her daughter, a child
Curly nasty hair
Annoying as hell
Innocent as dawn

Her son, a school boy
Hungry like a crowd
Surrounded by books
Distracted by clouds


And me.
                   *(doing poetry)

There you are
Glorious and mighty
Proud in every smile
Defying every plot
Of the darkest nights

There you are
Crushing all hopes
Of your demise
Malicious wishes
To undermine the sacrifice
Of your people

A push does not suffice
To throw over a mountain
No one can hijack a beauty
Guarded so closely
By thousand and one knights

There you soar
Higher than the sky
City of Titans
                        My Baghdad

Nothing saddens my heart more
Than a dog who eats my poem
And a tree that is burned down
And a cog that does not turn

Nothing saddens my heart more
Than a book that is sold cheap
And a cousin that is hurt
From the roof eager to leap

Nothing saddens my heart more
Than the earth so full of trash
And myself who is asleep
While the years moving like flash

Nothing saddens my heart more
Than a dream, where you are not
Doing beautiful things, like
Shine
Smile
Dance
Sing
                                     ­      ...a love song.

Nothing aches my core harder
Than to wake up in the night
And not finding you there to
Kiss
Touch
Smell
Say
                               ...I’m sorry.


Nothing seems more unreal than
Starting my day without you
Being there to talk about
Life
Hope
How
Much
                                            .­..I need you.

Looking for the light
That glows her life
Inside
Quest after quest
Until she found it

No stranger she was
Just clearer
Shimmering her heart
Like a shrine
Removing all the dust

Ascending
Closer to the truth
Each tread steeper
But secure

When the tears taste more bitter
The soul becomes tender
And sweet

A journey of love
The ultimate
Named after a hero...

Please consider me ‘has been gone.’
Corpse; with rifle but no head…
Martyrdom…
Sacrificed for the freedom
And the calmness of all souls..

Think of me as a hero
Slaying sick dogs that are dead
Since the moment they did join
The black pack of blood and hate

Think of me as a mountain
Fending the dark waves and rains
Madly swallowing the plains
Filling our souls with pain

Think of yourself as widow
But a widow who wears white
Since the moon has quit the night
Kneeling in front grace and might
Of your patience, sacrifice…

*My lady...

Come out now
It doesn't seem like it
But it is over
You are free

I don't know how
But you made it
You are strong
It doesn't seem like it
But you have always been

Come out
Let the sun shine on you
Or you shine on the sun
Let your light defeat darkness
And gift the future a ray of hope

Drink
And wash yourself
The water will clean you
But only your face
Your heart does not need washing
It's clean and pure and grace

Breath
You have been under the rubble
Your lungs full of dust
Embrace the space
Say something
And relieve life from its shock

That look you have
That look is killing
It is a death sentence
To the conscience of humanity
To be hanged by shame
And sorrow
And failure

Smile little child
But before that, cry
Cry out loud
And weep your pain out
Uncover the criminals

What did they do to you...

She'd say: You poet, you liar
You truly will end up in hell
You shall be burning in fire
Cause  poems are lies that you just tell
Using nice words and metaphors
Aiming to put me under spell

I'd say: Well, some of it came true
I am burning, but with your love
Softly tortured with your bright lights
The poems for you are merely sighs
Longing for you at sleepless nights

Thinking about you all the time
Telling the truth, nothing to sell...
You did put me under your spell!
With hazy eyes that hypnotised
Gently my mind, until I fell
                                               For you...

War in the air
Love in the soil
The patience of water
The seeds of hope
And an understanding sun
The gardener knows well that
Peace grows slowly
But is flowers smell wonderful
Fruits so tasty
Determination...
To feed the children with juicy fruits...

"Make the air fresh again!"

Sad...
A wind, without a kite
A kid, who does not play
A pond, without a fish

Unacceptable...
A circus, without a clown
A lawn, that is not green
Banks, that don’t give loans

Rare,
A bird, that is not shy
A Guy, who sheds a tear
A marriage, without a fight

Hard to believe...
A writer, who always writes
A cat, that does not scratch
Grandmas, who rarely knit

Unheard of...
A scientists, who never asks
A cook, despising spice
Lawyers, who tell the truth

Creepy...
A night, that is not dark
A bat, that loves the light
Winter, without the cold

Fake,
Flowers, that never fade
Snow, that does not melt
A waitress, who always smiles

Impossible...
A poet, who does not feel
A heart, that does not long,
A lover’s eye...
                        ...that sleeps the night.

STAR BG is our BIG STAR
Shining light, that goes so far
Helping writers that are lost
East to West,
Beyond the coast.

With a big heart, that is whole
Guiding post, that is her role
Charming souls to rock and roll
With great poems
That joy, utmost!

And kind messages
Reaching all
Encourage us,
And make us boast.

Kind words, so precious
They don’t cost
Yet do they matter
To us most!

I was not here
You never saw me
We never spoke
You never told me in spring
That you don’t

I am alone
This never happened
I never did this
I can’t give
What I don’t own

I never will be there
Maybe you will
But I shall not
And I don’t care

The saboteurs
Are not only those
Who tell lies

But us
Who help them
Defeat us

By closing the window
And blaming the sun
For not shining in

That…
     is a bigger sin!

A wise man once said
Strive for knowledge, not money
Because knowledge guards you
While you guard your money

My mind is in an abyss of oblivion
From not believing what I see
A poet believes
That a word is worth thousand pictures
But some pictures
They are worth thousand nightmares
While I am awake and gasping for words to breathe
I can't imagine how I should feel
When seeing all the things I see
I can't realize what to think
Caught by a tornado of dispair
As helpness as one can be
To survive, one must have a heart of steel
To admit that the pictures are real
But all I manage to say is
It is not fair....