Hummingbird
Dream
knocking
Over
flying.
Up
there
Candles
of light
Locks
the mind.
It's a
shy, temporary smile
Nothing
but a dream.
No
touch … no feel
Breaks
the soul
like
The
ripples of the hummingbird's wings
No
astray,
A passing
breeze
Been
waiting on ruins of a stage.
life
is a joke
When
dream unlooses the curtain,
truth
is lost
Upon
bashfulness.
Beauty
of a woman.
Living
in eddy of fear.
the
search for the lost
Is a
sleepy dream.
On The Margin
I’m
living.
I haven’t
left my place
If my
dreams took over me,
Desire
will take over my soul
For me
to get out of my sea
Even
if
Hanging
on a board of misfortune.
Walking
in paths of knowledge
On the
margins of dunes' shelves
When
roads leading to gratitude betrayed
Frivolous
she- camel,
Obstacle
on my way, is its step.
Jumping
over the surface of mirage
Trying
read Novels of betrayal.
Pushing
winds from behind,
A
desire for circumambulation.
If
knowledge, among us, disappears
I
tried to catch
fringes
of its shadow,
For my
mind to awaken its morning
and
pick up what been scattered
Of
debris in evening.
my
destiny, give me an answer to
what
are you doing to me?
What
you draw,
Is my
Destiny.
Injustice
trains me
Towards
a bridge
Without
a future.
The Deceitful
Thou,
a Contravener objector!
Here
and there.
You
are not reluctant,
Abstaining
you are
By
vanity advice.
flames
of words block my path,
And
the suffering of the homeland.
Your
thinking and writing
shake
The
frame of the immature mind.
Calling
for knot of the plague.
Your
signs were understood
In the
broad Sense.
captivated
line, destroyed by dreams
Its
lies were spilled
Sometimes
as black ink
Other
times as a red dance
Sometimes,
as grudged perfume
And
fire that complaints
hug
each other Within imprisoned bird.
You
lowered your wings
Colored
by sorrows
After
your obedience
Blinded
generations in the march.
Thou,
deceitful!
Rebuts
of politics and religion.
You
have torn the bonds of nations,
And
you have demolished the feelings of all the poor.
Vanity
nurseries
Have
invaded minds
Without
entry permission.
The
truth
Is
driven by frankness of eras.
Winds
knock on your door
Carrying
bodies that took the soul.
Having
hardly questioned
The
murdered and the expatriate
Fallen
in the shadow of this existence.
A
member of squadron, you are
From
Squadrons of crows, you infiltrated.
LARBI HOUMAIDI
No comments :
Post a Comment