Poetry

November 7, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Mohammed Ameen/Reuters

 

By

Ahmad Al-khatat

 

 

I Am Sorry Baghdad

 

 

I am sorry Baghdad but I have to travel,

I will be back in years in a wooden box.

 

The television doesn’t show the freedom,

The radio stations talk about unsure hopes.

 

I am sitting on a fancy brown leather sofa,

It feels as if I am sitting on an old wheelchair.

 

Tears it’s an old way to express my yearnings,

My memories were lost in a boat of fishermen.

 

I smile to hide my cuts of feeling homesickness,

I weep to show my joys of having citizenship.

 

Everybody looks at their gadgets but not myself,

I am still seeking to meet with an angel from Iraq.

 

Perhaps maybe she could be the mother of kids,

Picking them before the ground crushes them down.

 

I asked the taxi driver to get me to Baghdad station,

He replied, that will be the last station on the death line.

 

In my whole life, I have been drunk only two times,

First when I died in in Baghdad, the other was

 

When I knew Baghdad can’t offer a bit of myself,

I am sorry Baghdad to be your armless soldier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Darkness and the Honey

 

 

Tonight is the darkest night I have ever seen

I am awake as you lie asleep beside me

I keep remembering the sounds of your high heels

as you walked towards me, pulling me into your room.

 

Trust me when I say you are a very beautiful woman.

Your beauty is what I will savor tonight,

 

You made me feel so thirsty that I had to drink a cup of water

but the water was drunk by your beauty before i had a chance to sip.

 

Having you in my bed sharing and raising

The bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey together

But my Jack Daniels has the flavor of honey

but not the same taste of honey I get from kissing your lips.

 

We both start sharing the same breath

with the same feelings

but with different moves.

We are both enjoying those moments

 

From your eyes I can see the dark side of romance

I hope you won’t close your eyes

because you would make me feel the embers of sorrows

 

If you open your eyes to snuff out

 

My embers of sorrows with your tears

then your tears would drop on

 

My cheeks like an intoxicating remedy.

 

I’m still awake in an unfathomably deep love

remembering the darkest night

and your sweet honey taste

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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