Poetry

June 24, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Ahmad Al-khatat

 

 

Again And Again…

 

 

The sorrows mood has started again,

And again in my home from a long day.

 

I sat on a wooden chair like a little boy,

Talking to the four white old huge walls.

 

Staring at the dusty picture frames,

Singing to the missing ones in my home.

 

I stood up as if the soul is demanding me,

To dance with the presence of their spirits.

 

I was lying to nobody but my humble self,

But my eyes were honest when they wept.

 

Crying to see the world is turning me nuts,

For being heartless and emotionless to love.

 

All dancers were on the floor waiting on me,

To teach them a move to dance act again.

All musicians were in the studio waiting on me,

To sing them a song of nightingale to love again.

All the people were waiting in-line waits for me,

To write off my tears a poem, to die alone again.

 

Till I wake up with hands holding papers and a pen,

Feeling lost, it was the morning or the midnight time.

 

Wishing if my lips were wet or cleared off your lips,

To reorganize my sunshine from the same blue moon.

 

Where I can smile by breathing the roses of your pillow,

And cuddle the hanging stars in your stunning blue eyes.

 

You promised me to melt off your own visions upon my

Thoughts of this world who set me up as a leader in a war.

 

Melt your glows with the waves of tears down upon me

Grubby observations on a another attacking civilian land.

Melt your scents with cover me with your silky hair upon

My weak flesh, who sets to be taken by the king of death.

Melt your transparent heart between my heartbeats upon

My needs and desires for asking you to stay with me longer.

 

The day you walked away from my own joyful heaven,

Nothing seems to be the same anymore, but more miseries.

 

I can’t see the blue skies any longer in the summertime,

But I see the raining clouds of autumn leaves on my hands.

 

Don’t blame an atheist who said that he doesn’t believe

In God, and so I am, I can’t believe in love if you are not by me.

 

I have thrown my maps of my dreams, and my darkness keys.

Waiting for you in the middle of the beach alone with tears alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because My Name Is 

 

 

Because my name is…

I am not the son of Adam, my dad is the creator of Isis.

I am no longer a human being, I am just human killers.

 

I was born to love, respect, and forgive all the people.

Even if I had to walk with their guns behind my head.

 

My name defines kindness and being very friendly.

But nowadays it means I am a terrorist and criminal.

 

I have learned to write and educate myself with a pencil.

And share my love to the world with my pure drawing.

 

I always use a cheap knife to peel fruits and vegetables.

But when I cut my finger, they charged me for a crime.

 

You leaders had attacked my homeland and destroyed cities.

Because of your army, I am officially a stranger there.

 

Baghdad did not recognize me, I could not find my house.

Memories had stains able dusts, I lose my way to dreams.

 

I celebrate with your holidays, with a heart faithful intention.

Then why you agree to turn my holidays into a new funeral.

 

Even the clouds rain nothing but drops of the nature miseries.

And the rainbow lost his own colours between tears and pain.

 

The night in exile has been ignoring my daily conversations,

The moon still appears with the stars avoid hearing my prayer.

 

Because my name is…

I am on the edge of the danger, I am no longer allowed to love you,

Since I will be in the darkest prison, until the day I slowly die alone.

 

After all you may judge me cause I am brown or black or yellow,

But for the love of our God why do all the animals not judge.

 

The mirror cannot read my face, nor see the blood from my heart.

My beliefs are my crime to you, so you did shoot the right man.

 

I refused to be a slave, and you have to point out that I am a terrorist.

I loved lots of women with a cross, with a David star, and a crescent.

 

Like an intelligent sister, like a respectful woman, and a loving wife.

And yet you are still behind my door, waiting on me to make a sin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ahmad Al-khatat

I was born in Baghdad on May 8th (1989). From Iraq, I came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when I wrote my very first poem back in the year 2000. I currently study Political Sciences, and move on to study Journalism at the Concordia University in Montreal.

1 Comment

  1. Leslie DeLuca June 24, at 15:05

    Again and Again and Because My Name Is as titles are noteworthy in their own. These two are indelible treasures my friend. I am so very happy for you to have them presented them here. One more thing: Ahmad, you've just outdone yourself....just for a moment. Greater horizon rising!!! Both are exquisitely sublime and most soulfully written. Congratulations. I have been a fan of your work right from the get go, you know that.

    Reply

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