Category: Poetry and Lyrics

Maybe Icarus knew. Before his demise, his inevitable fall, maybe he knew that loving means sacrifice. Maybe he knew that if you wish to be free, if you wish to be loved, then you should be prepared to die a death more painful than atrophy.  What is falling from the sky in comparison to falling…

The smell of earth just after rain feels so new again and again; Each scent bestows fresh rebirth, Diffusing from raindrops tipping with mirth; I stroll on the unbothered turf near trees, Carefully contemplating, with my head low – I find The little stars of the day; I freeze – Amazed – Leaving all the…

How is it that your absence lingers shorter than your presence wanes? Fewer breaths than it takes smoke to rise from crushed remains, Fewer beats than the tremble when your last note slows; My lipstick still smudged on the wine glass, witness to what nobody knows. Swear it was just vivid, once divine,  Shadows in…

I’m not a poet – not Shakespeare, not Dickenson, not Plath. My words are quite simple; Far from a masterpiece, it’s clear. They may not rhyme, but I don’t mind; It’s not the reason I write my poetry anyway. I write for myself – For the ones I love, The ones who chose to depart,…

What life shall I behold? What shall my world be? A long play where I wear a mask and hide my scars? A short tale that keeps me wondering through the quiet night? A sonnet that I recite freely? A melody that moves me till dawn? No, something more. A dream I’ve been longing to…

The masks were white—not clean, but dead,like wilted lilies left too long in water,faces frozen mid-lie,grinning with teeth that never knew warmth. They surrounded me—and I, draped in a robe too white to belong to me,felt them cling like guilt to my skin. It whispered of silence,of purity I never asked for,in a room reeking…

I am stuck between four walls. A room with white walls and nothing else. It resembles what Susan Abul Hawa described in her book ‘A Loveless World‘ and called The Cube, except there’s no shower, there’s no bed, and there are no visitors.  I can see myself in a Western movie, thrown in solitary confinement,…

لا قصيدة تستطيع انتزاعي من بين أحضانك أن تبعد يدي عنك أن تنتزعني من عالمك لأجعلها لأكتبها …لألدها كيف تنافسك قصيدة؟ كيف تنتزع منك الدفء لترتديه؟ كلّ مرة أردّد:  …لا قصيدة تستطيع انتزاعي من بين أحضانك كلّ مرة أسلخ نفسي عنك بتهمة قصيدة كلّ مرة أعدُني أنها المرّة الأخيرة، القصيدة الأخيرة لكنك أنت تجذب القصائد،…

I. 1 This is a place where now is an eternity. 2 This is a place where one waits because, certainly,3 A place where everything is about to happen yet nothing really happens.4 Where one waits to wait, because one knows that everything that is about to happen will never really happen.5 This is a…