Category Archives: Poems

Mourning coffee ..

 

All the worlds sorrow

Today is kept

For one family

To bear…not to share

 

In the shaded bitterness

Of my suger-free

mourning Coffee

I numbly sip, sniff and stir

 

listening to the words

Of justification echoing

“From god we came

To god we shall return”

 

I walk hastily

to hide from

their sweeping pain…

into my silly tingly ache …

 

TarekOfCairo

” I woke this morning on the devastating news of the tragic death of a young girl whom I knew as a smiling rose. God , bestow your mercy and comfort on her family ” ..

The jungle .. الغابة

The beautiful photo is courtsey of my friend Robyn L.

سامقة اشجارها

تحيطني سيقانها

فكأني سجين غابة وارفة

أحس بحرِّها رغم زحامها

فأعجب كيف وأين ظلالها

فأمد بصري لعليائها

الي أذرع ملساء متنافره

من لهيب الشمس

تسن سنانها

الي عدو قد يكون انا ها هنا

فأعدوا في خلوها وخلائها

فلا انس في سكنها

ولا ظل يبدوا الا في بطنها

A wood like all

Imprisoned

Between the long legs

and the fallen stems

crack under my feet

The heat I feel

Makes me wonder

Shouldn’t there be

Plenty of shade

Eyes climb the trees

To the pointy bare beaming arms

Praying to the searing sun heat

Sharpening there teeth

Could that be , for me ..

Shocked I flee

As it came to me

The only shade here

Is down the soil

Deep under the trees

TarekOfCairo

My lustrous moon ..

She carries My smile

She carries My heart

In delicate lips

In sparkling eyes

 

She lends The moon

A lustrous face

A wondrous night

When she arise

 

TarekOfCairo

Hotel room ..

In a leather bound elegance

proudly they declare

“We will make you feel at home” …

And I say …

It ain’t the tiniest bit like home..

 

Not with these incredible pillows

Or these milky creamy soaps

frantically leathery and slippery

Like all dashing hopes ..

And the diminutively bottled

fragrant shampoos, creams, gels …

Blah.. blah.. blah…..

With their narrowest necks..

 

And oh, the towels …

Folded towels,

hanging towels,

rolled up towels ,

face towels ,

hand towels,

bottom towels and

the wrap around the globe towels ..

and we are told

In an elegant card..

With calligraphic font,

“Throw on the floor if used” ..

This way you save our planet

You are green…

Who would do this at home ..

 

And this nifty brilliantly white

Scarecrows

The robe de chambre …

Of that you always have two ..

One for you

And one to scare your foes..

Or for a partner

If you have one of these ..

 

The disposable slippers

Also comes in pairs

Crispy as toast should be

I butter them and eat them

in my suitcase ..and

Instead, I pull my very own tired slippers

The ones which knows

How to confines to my toes

They lie there ….

-the slippers off course-

in the middle of the room

upside down .. objecting, I presume..

 

And I fetch my hairbrush

The one with the bristles laden

With my fallen hair and years

With the Familial touch

The one which is to me

Is sooo hooome ..

 

I invade the neatness of

The stretched bed sheets, breaking

The icy shell and dive

into a delusion

Finally feeling a tiny wee

Like home …

Nothing feels like home …

 

 

TarekOfCairo

The way ..

Words are

frigid stones

glacially telling as

.. they hurt

.. they block

.. they stone ..

I will cut a road

paved with these

silence ..

For you may one day

decide

to walk this way

gracefully…

back home..

 

TarekOfCairo

Taking a leap of faith ..

“Take no risk son”

Mother said

“I fear for you

from a deceitful fate”

 

The heat under my feet

The heaviness of the stillness

Itching on my sole

.. go..don’t wait ..

 

and behind these hills

and the unsettled clouds

Lies the temptation

Of a dream I create

 

So I depart

the recitation of certainty

and the suffocation of boredom

the overweight and

gruelling waste

 

With a baby’s shaky feet

and a gritty heart

Fearless and doubtless

With tiny steps or even a mighty fall

 

Life is certainly a prize for

A leap of faith

 

TarekOfCairo

The brightest star …

I am sore from stretching

to be as tall

Tired of listening to your music

and dreaming ….

I should too

 

Tired of painting ..

the unfinished painting …

Just to catch up with you

I want even to run after you

Surely you will outpace me ..

Poor me..

 

Put never tiresome I shall be

of looking up

Seeing you … in the stars

The brightest star of all

 

And never tiresome I shall be

from being

proud of you ..

 

TarekOfCairo

Titanic ..

The bad wind of the day

carried my sail ..

Into the loveliest night

 

“Do you trust me?

…I trust you jack “

 

“….Where to Ms..?

…To the stars!”

 

“You are so stupid Rose..

….Why did you do that ? ..”

 

 

“Rose Dawson”

A name for a legacy ..

 

Thats where it starts

Thats where it ends ..

 

Inspired by a day of hurtful comments and a “Titanic” end …
TarekOfCairo

“Something in flying alone”

There is something in flying alone…
Not a driver .. nor a  road… just… the “go”….

It’s not that I do it often…
It’s not that I love it..

To be ..I mean ..on my own…
But there is magic in piano tunes..
There is  zest in flying alone…
To my comfort zone…

It always starts… at night…
Me with conspiring car …
Fleeing..feeling just…bright…

It is not that I do it often
It’s not that I love it..

But even when I am far..and right..
There is guilt in being alone..
I am just a wasted kite…..

If I hit a sunset or sunrise..
I just cry …yes ..really cry..

Its not that I do it often..
It’s not that I love it..

But here… I don’t know if I live or …die…
So I weather..and cry…
There  is something in flying alone…
I just can  not… lie…

The movie.remains the same…
So why….for god sake..

I still feel the words slamming my face..

And why I still carry sorrows in my suitcase…
It’s not that I do it often..

It’s not that I love it..
But it seems a habit..

to  collect  the… pain..

There is ashes  in flying alone..
and I have to damp them… somewhere..

TarekOfCairo

I am reblogging this poem as it felt appropriate .. once again ..

Standing Ovation to you …

Standing ovation

to you

and you

and you

and you …..

and for Barbara Streisand

1993 concert

and my 3D projector

and my cuddly sofa..

For the ignitor

The shoulder I stand on

For the tapping hand on my own

For making

Flu-day..

The busiest day

In my blog .. ever..

and Barbara sings

” you don’t bring me flowers any more”

Yet,

Love rained

all Over ..

In the loveliest day

of fever

and I am blessed with

my very own

Little river ..

TarekOfCairo