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Maha Salman
England    For nostalgia's sake
Lyna Salman
33/F    Lyna Salman is a poet whose unpublished works weave intricate tapestries of deep life secrets, mysterious mythology, quantum realities, and the enigmatic nature of illusional …
Salman reshi
22/M/Indian Occupied Kashmir    A student by profession Scribbler,photographer,bibliophile,Cloud walker, Solivigant

Poems

Najwa Kareem Apr 8
(When reading this poem, it's fitting to pronounce 'Salman' using the Arabic pronunciation.)

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Tellin' Gaza I understand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Fighting by taking a stand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, tellin' Gaza we understand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, fighting by taking a stand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
An Athan telling the world, we must take command

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Prepping us for prayer, prayer/a daily ritual, which is supposed to help us to assert, Oppressors we're not a fan  

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, tellin' Gaza I understand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, fighting by taking a stand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Tellin' Gaza we understand

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
Announcing 'God is Greater than', 'God is more Important than', 'God is more Significant than', 'God is more Powerful than' Trump and Netanyahu's clan

Salman, Kibbutz Blinken's Athan Man
With his Athan, insisting, Palestine, take my hand

By: Najwa Kareem

https://www.instagram.com/omarknowsphotos/reel/C5fGcRvta2J/
"THANK YOU SOOO MUCH, SALMAN, FOR CONTINUING TO BE ON THE FRONTLINES OF OUR BATTLEFIELD TO RESIST THE OPPRESSORS OF THE OPPRESSED/OF OURS IN PALESTINE/OUR HOMELAND AND FOR ALL OF THE SACRIFICES OF YOUR TIME, RESOURCES, ETC. TO DO WHAT YOU CAN(LIKE HOW YOU RECITED THE ATHAN AT THIS COMMUNAL GATHERING FOR IFTAR IN FRONT OF THE HOME OF FORMER US SECRETARY OF GENOCIDE, ANTONY BLINKEN) TO AID IN OUR HUMAN FAMILY GETTING THEIR/OUR HUMAN RIGHTS HONORED AND TO ASSIST IN A FREE PALESTINE BECOMING A REALITY, A FREED HOLY LAND. PICTURES OF YOU ENGAGING IN GRASSROOTS ACTIONS AT PUBLIC FORUMS SAY A LOT; PICTURE TAKERS (EVEN ONES AT THE AL-QUDS DAY (2025) PROTEST) LIKE TO KEEP YOU IN THE SPOTLIGHT :) AS TUPAC WOULD HAVE LIKELY SAID TO YOU IF HE WERE STILL ALIVE, YOU ARE APPRECIATED!"

From Najwa and your oppressed family in the now miserably destroyed land of olive trees and delicious tasting kunafa.

To Salman: This **photo [of Salman giving the Athan] was seen on Hazami's Instagram and because I was so drawn to it and find it so appealing, I saved it as a draft in my email on 4/21/24. After viewing it, a couple of ideas for how to use it came to mind. The idea to write the poem below was not one of the ideas I thought of then. The writing of this poem happened this morning when just as I was getting ready to make a few duas, the first and second phrases/verses came to me (after reciting out loud a gift I intend to offer to another person); I recited both verses out loud and was very happy with them. When I went to my email a bit later in the morning, I decided to type these two phrases/verses and save them in my draft folder, and after seeing them written or typed before me, I made the decision to write you a poem. 

**Tried to put the photo here but it did not work

*I've also made this poem a protest song! Insha Allah, I will sing it to you/Salman and others.
Given the apparent magical surrealism that the months of April is the month of fate for and death of writers, artists, dramatis, philosophers and poets, a phenomenon which readily gets support from the cases of untimely and early April deaths of; Max Weber, Miguel de Cervantes, William Shakespeare, Francis Imbuga, and Chinua Achebe  then  Wisdom of the moment behooves me to adjure away the fateful month by  allowing  me to mourn Gabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez by expressing my feelings of grieve through the following dirge of elegy;
You lived alone in the solitude
Of pure hundred years in Colombia
Roaming in Amacondo with a Spanish tongue
Carrying the bones of your grandmother in a sisal sag
On your poverty written Colombian back,
Gadabouting to make love in times of cholera,
On none other than your bitter-sweet memories
Of your melancholic ***** the daughter of Castro,
Your cowardice made you to fear your momentous life
In this glorious and poetic time of April 2014,
Only to succumb to untimely black death
That similarly dimunitized your cultural ancestor;
Miguel de Cervantes, a quixotic Spaniard,
You were to write to the colonel for your life,
Before eating the cockerel you had ear-marked
For Olympic cockfight, the hope of the oppressed,
Come back from death, you dear Marquez
To tell me more stories fanaticism to surrealism,
From Tarzanic Africa the fabulous land
An avatar of evil gods that are impish propre
Only Vitian Naipaul and Salman Rushdie are not enough,
For both of them are so naïve to tell the African stories,
I will miss you a lot the rest of my life, my dear Garbo,
But I will ever carry your living soul, my dear Garcia,
Soul of your literature and poetry in a Maasai kioondo
On my broad African shoulders during my journey of art,
When coming to America to look for your culture
That gave you versatile tongue and quill of a pen,
Both I will take as your memento and crystallize them
Into my future thespic umbrella of orature and literature.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, an eminent Latin American and most widely acclaimed authors, died untimely at his home in Mexico City on Thursday, 17th April 2014. The 1982 literature Nobel laureate, whose reputation drew comparisons to Mark Twain of adventures of Huckleberry Finny and Charles Dickens of hard Times, was 87 of age. Already a luminous legend in his well used lifetime, Latin American writer, Gabriel Garcia Marquez was perceived as not only one of the most consequential writers of the 20th and 21ist centuries, but also the sterling performing Spanish-language author since the world’s experience of Miguel de Cervantes, the Spanish Jail bird and Author of Don Quixote who lived in the 17th century.
Like very many other writers from the politically and economically poor parts of the world, in the likes of J M Coatze, Wole Soyinka, Nadine Gordimer, Doris May Lessing, Octavio Paz, Pablo Neruda, V S Naipaul, and Rabidranathe Tagore, Marguez won the literature Nobel prize in addition to the previous countless awards for his magically fabulous novels, gripping short stories, farcical screenplays, incisive journalistic contributions and spellbinding essays. But due to postmodern global thespic civilization the Nobel Prize is recognized as most important of his prizes in the sense that, he received in 1982, as the first Colombian author to achieve such literary eminence. The eminence of his work in literature communicated in Spanish are towered by none other than the Bible, especially  in its Homeric style which Moses used when writing the book of Genesis and the fictitious drama of Job.
Just like Ngugi, Achebe, Soyinka, and Ousmane Marquez is not the first born. He is the youngest of siblings. He was born on March 6, 1927 in the Colombian village of Aracataca, on the Caribbean coast. His literary bravado was displayed in his book, Love in the Times of Cholera.  In which he narrated how his parents met and got married. Marguez did not grow up with his father and mother, but instead he grew up with his grandparents. He often felt lonely as a child. Environment of aunts and grandmother did not fill the psychological void of father and mother. This social phenomenon of inadequate parenthood is also seen catapulting Richard Wright, Charlese Dickens, and Barrack Obama to literary excellency.Obama recounted the same experience in his Dreams from my father.

Poverty determines convenience or hardship of marriage. This is mirrored by Garcia Marquez in his marriage to Mercedes Barcha.  An early childhood play-mate and neighbour in 1958. In appreciation of his marriage, Marquez later wrote in his memoirs that it is women who maintain the world, whereas we men tend to plunge it into disarray with all our historic brutality. This was a connotation of his grandmother in particular who played an important role during the times of childhood. The grand mother introduced him to the beauty of orature by telling him fabulous stories about ghosts and dead relatives haunting the cellar and attic, a social experience which exactly produced Chinua Achebe, Okot P’Bitek, Mazizi Kunene, Margaret Ogola and very many other writers of the third world.
Little Gabo as his affectionate pseudonym for literature goes, was a voracious bookworm, who like his ideological master Karl Marx read King Lear of Shakespeare at the age of sixteen. He fondly devoured the works of Spanish authors, obviously Miguel de Cervantes, as well as other European heavyweights like; Edward Hemingway, Faulkner and Frantz Kafka.
Good writers usually drop out of school and at most writers who win the Nobel Prize. This formative virtue of writers is evinced in Alice Munro, Doris Lessing, Nadine Gordimer, John Steinbeck, William Shakespeare, Sembene Ousmane, Octavio Paz as well as Gabriel Garcia Marquez. After dropping out of law school, Garcia Marquez decided instead to embark on a call of his passion as a journalist. The career he perfectly did by regularly criticizing Colombian as well as ideological failures of the then foreign politics. In a nutshell he was a literary crusader against poverty. This is of course the obvious hall marker of leftist political orientation.
Garcia Marquez’s sensational breakthrough occurred in 1967 with the break-away publication of his oeuvre; One Hundred Years of Solitude which the New York Times Book Review meritoriously elevated as ‘the first piece of literature since the Book of Genesis that should be required reading for the entire human race. The position similarly taken by Salman Rushdie. Marquez often shared out that this novel carried him above emotional tantrums on its publication. He was keen on this as his manner of speech was always devoid of la di da.so humble and suave that his genius can only be appreciated not from the booming media outlets about his death, but by reading all of his works and especially his Literature Noble price acceptance speech delivered in 1982.