Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
M-E May 2019
The sun radiating, melting
in a dark-blue teapot

Tides stirring, mixing
Magical yellow
in fabulous red
colors glowing as a peacock
In the sea

Pondering how beautiful
who created this
Beauty

cannon booms

Time to break the fast
As waves breaking and
Crashing on the rocky shore
Creating a natural, soothing
Symphony

Under
City lights coastline
And the dim blue skyline
And on candle lights
We dedicated the fast to God
And we broke the fast
with some refreshing dates
and replenishing water

Shared some hard-boiled eggs,
Stripes of fried pepper, an eggplant
And sardines
with two cats, ants
And the crescent moon
And we drank some hot tea
And "orange" juice

The waves crashes and
breaks on the rocks
Ants whispering,
so is grains of sand
Speaking languages
Which we can't comprehend
All creatures praising The Almighty
Hear it on SoundCloud:

https://m.soundcloud.com/user-697131084/spiritual-nights-day-07-an
Terry Collett May 2018
The Moroccan moon
above us shining
as we lay in that
sand dune hugging close.

Up at the base camp
the sound of singing
and an old guitar
being played. Voices
floating down to us
singing and laughter.

We lay there kissing
seeking moon's shadow
hearing the sea's roar.

You took off your shorts
and pink underwear
as the moon played you
and I undressed too.

We missed the party
and hullabaloo
and the hard drinking
from old wine bottles.

On the edge of it
the world turned about
as we lay there sexed
and undone in dark
with the wind's slight moan
touching our young heads
in our sand dune beds.
Henry Koskoff Nov 2017
in the riad
you thought you heard a siren sing to you
because the lucidness of the mediterranean breeze
set the place ablaze

in fact it was the midday prayer
a pulsating f sharp
cuts through the town
bringing all under the influence of him

the locals call this place chefchaouen
the blue city
conversation is rampant in this town
symphonies of language are scattered

weathered backs
wrinkles and creases that document
the plight of these creatures
they heave baskets
weighted by their livelihood

when night falls
all is intoxicated by the temperature
and nymphs scurry in the form of sand

in the riad
the siren sings to you again
Henry Koskoff Oct 2017
i give a couple hundred dollars to the orcas on charity night
which is the night that isn’t so great because I don't get anything

i go to an orphanage in Kenya
and it’s not fun

maybe because I have look them in the eyes
or maybe because it's just not fun

my brother is really involved and I am not

he makes the few small dents that he can with the insufficient chisel that he was given
he works tirelessly

and I just say “**** it”
and I throw my chisel on the ground and instead pick up my laptop and watch netflix

moroccan women line the streets with chipped teeth and black gums

some with babies
some with groceries

their backs disfigured and their skin corroded
by the weight of responsibility
and mom and I pass by them at 45 miles per hour

their stories are a blur
a mere glimpse
drowned amongst the picturesque landscapes

they are comfortably at bay
i have a satisfying distance from their days

we take the high road
across the Tichka Pass
which is surrounded by overwhelming purple mountaintops

that have the power to separate two worlds
that are indifferent to the meager tires of our jeep
that amount to more than I ever will
that I will never be able to appreciate enough

they taunt me with their greatness
they soak me in their pride

but the pass is covered in ice
so we will have to wait to go to the desert

and although I play a character that is flexible and understanding
i am a little annoyed that our precious little itinerary is ruined
Terry Collett Aug 2017
I watched Miriam
walk over to two Arabs with a camel
along the Mediterranean beach
outside Tangiers.

She was trying
to get them to understand
what she wanted.

She beckoned me over
with a wave of a hand.

I walked over.

I want a photo taken
of me and the camel,
she said.

I took out my camera
and made gestures
with the camera
the camel and her.

The Arabs nodded their heads
and smiled and spoke words
which meant nothing.

They led the camel beside her
and walked nearby.

I took aim
and pressed the button.

The click came.

She stood there uncertaintly .

I paid the guys
and they walked off
with the camel.

Did you get me
and the camel?  
She said.

Sure I did,
I said.

I put the camera away
and we walked up the beach
to the bar for a coke
and smoke.
Boy and girl in Morocco in 1970
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2017
The day is quiet
is given to the sun.
Pop in the night
every miniute
is people's time.

I look up in the sky
but missing a star.
Maybe it's lurking
in the sweet breeze.
bea Jul 2017
alabama sun, it's almost hot here in a sad soggy way
i knew a kid in california who lost all her teeth on a pink plastic skateboard (we were all carrying garbage bags filled with computer cables and ipods and cube-shaped monitors)
there was a girl in england somewhere, too, she was bright bright navy blue and i couldn't stop staring at her glittery skin. my grandma told me it was impolite so i decided to grow antenna eyes like those banana slugs clinging to my neighbor's window.

(i think i'll shave my head and rename myself after the moths that come out once the afterimages of the sun leave the corneas.)

she told me we could live in thailand one day, now look what you've done! i want to live again for the first time since my tiny cells began to divide!
you know what, i wish i remember what it's like to be in love
Terry Collett Mar 2017
The Mediterranean Sea
is out there
Miriam said.

You and she
sat on the beach
looking out at the sea
lit up by the moon.

You and she
had just made love
in a small sand dune.

Stars sparkled over head
and over the sea.

And we are here
you said.

Behind you
up the beach
was the camp base
and the tents.

A party was going on
which you both
had sneaked away from
to be alone
and have ***.

She looked up
at the sky:
I guess my mother
is looking
at this moon now
Miriam said
she likes gazing
at the moon
but she is in England
and we are here
in Morocco
but same moon.

The party was noisy
you could hear music
and singing from the beach.

Those stars may
have burnt out
hundreds of years ago
or more
but we still see the light
from maybe dead stars
you said.

She lay down
and you lay beside her.

She kissed you
and put her arms
about you again.

She was still naked
from the waist down
so were you.

Someone
was playing a guitar
the sound hung in the air.

You made love again
without worries or care.
A BOY AND GIRL IN MOROCCO IN 1970
Terry Collett Jan 2017
Did you get a photograph
of me standing by the camel
on the beach?
Miriam asked.

Yes I did,
I said,
the two Arabs
didn't look impressed
with you in your bikini though.

I was clothed;
it wasn't as though
I had nothing on,
she said.

No,
but you know
what they're like
with women,
I said.

****** them Benny,
I am here on holiday;
what do they think
I'm going to do
wear a long dress
and head scarf
in this heat?

Never mind,
I said,
it is done now,
and I have taken the photo.

Will you send me a copy
of the photo
once we are back in England?

Of course I will
if you give me your address,
I said.

Make sure it is an envelope;
I don't want my parents
seeing me in my bikini,
she said.

I will seal it in an envelope
out of prying eyes,
I said.

We looked  out
at the Mediterranean.

The water was calm and blue
and the sky a kind of white blue.

The sun hot and pouring
its heat on us.

Do you miss me nights?
She said.

Of course I do,
but the tents are only made
for two not three,
I said smiling.

She tapped my arm:
maybe when your friend
goes into Tangiers next
we could,
she said.

If he goes,
I said.

Hope he goes,
Miriam said.

And the memory of her
in my tent
the other day
buzzed around my head.
A BOY AND GIRL IN MOROCCO IN 1970.
Terry Collett Dec 2016
Miriam came
into your tent
at the camp base
a few miles from Tangiers.

She zipped
up the tent
behind her.

I saw your friend leave
he's gone
to Marrakesh with others
on the yellow trucks
she said.

I know
you said
he asked if I was going
but I said no.

She knelt
as the tent
was too low
to stand.

Shall we?
She said.

If you like
you said.

She took off her top
and her bra
and her small ****
hung there
the brown dugs
smiling.

You undressed slowly
all the time
watching her
as she sat
and slipped off
her jeans
and then
her underwear.

Outside there
were voices
of those who
never left
far off
and some nearby.

You were both naked
she kneeling
you lying
on the sleeping bed.

She crawled
towards your bag
and lay beside you.

I hope it's
a long way
to Marrakesh
she said.

Far enough
you said.

She gazed at you
and you drank in
her stare.

She touched your thigh
you touched her nest.

A slight wind outside
rattled the tent pole.

You entered
her smoothly
as a ship
into a fine harbour
and sailed her
over seven seas.

Always to serve
always to please.
A BOY AND GIRL IN MOROCCO IN 1970
Next page