#kurmanji - Hello Poetry

Whenever she loses a child to the arcades of sickness, to the basements of dungeons, recruited for the mills of war, or to the wilderness of exile, she picks up the prayer beads of her chronic diseases adds merely another bead an olive pit. silently, in the quiet of Afrin she cries for them, another winter.

0

Dec 8, 2025

Dec 8, 2025 at 4:08 PM UTC

azad-akkash

My mother’s Eves

Whenever she loses a child to the arcades of sickness, to the basements of dungeons, recruited for the mills of war, or to the wilderness of exile, she picks up the prayer beads of her chronic diseases adds merely another bead an olive pit. silently, in the quiet of Afrin she cries for them, another winter.

11

An elderly lamppost it was. He did not know what mission to hold to. Sometimes it confirmed to the rain its fears: Nobody rains you, indeed! You rain You’re the rainer! Occasionally it warned the fog: Apparently you have no shame before the moon! You’ve been foggy so far! You’re the curtain, you, the bird!

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Dec 8, 2025

Dec 8, 2025 at 4:02 PM UTC

azad-akkash

A soaked Grandpa

An elderly lamppost it was. He did not know what mission to hold to. Sometimes it confirmed to the rain its fears: Nobody rains you, indeed! You rain You’re the rainer! Occasionally it warned the fog: Apparently you have no shame before the moon! You’ve been foggy so far! You’re the curtain, you, the bird!

14

Cat food is colourful a little bit hard, crunchy. He does not even touch it. From the floor He licks up a spoonful of homemade yogurt. With a sweet meowing he chants out some slogans.

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Dec 8, 2025

Dec 8, 2025 at 3:58 PM UTC

azad-akkash

A protest

Cat food is colourful a little bit hard, crunchy. He does not even touch it. From the floor He licks up a spoonful of homemade yogurt. With a sweet meowing he chants out some slogans.

7