Saturday, February 1, 2020



Take A Pause

Take a pause
and see how time is working
With its curved blade
ploughed the face
leaving a trace
Look at the so many furrows
Deep or shallow
lined the brows
Some, progeny of happiness
when smiles come with wrinkles
others offspring of sorrow
when tough time hits high and low
And with each pleat there's a story
Years carry on their flow
like rivers heading to the west
all pouring into the big ocean
host of stories in motion
Unstoppable time is and so is our destiny
Born to live, yes, but to die, too
Aware of our lot
why anguish, why suffering
useless to live swinging between
the already gone and the not yet coming
no present fully lived; a whole life missing
spent back and forth
nobody knows its real worth!

Poetry Is What Gets Lost In Translation

Each poem is a unique construction
Only its owner knows every single corner
What is translated is a mere imitation
For the hidden escapes the apparent
Emotions have degrees and depth
A sigh leaves the source and makes a way
Prints mark its departure and arrival
Once translated many a part vanishes and depart
Lost within the attempt, a copy, not the original
For the poem has a taste, sweet, bitter or sour
How can it keep to the initial measure?

Cut, clipped, betrayed, dressed with no pleasure.

Broken To Be Mended

Broken wings mean when you are about to take off
Destitute, you find neither tool nor fuel
When you are ready for the race with all your zeal
Bridle, saddle, stirrups in hand
But your horse is fighting a deadly wound

Broken wings signify not now
But obliged to live an agonizing delay
When all winds conspire to drift you away
And bitter helplessness is waiting to slay
The last atom of your courage in one thousand way
Ruthlessly-for every wrong - make you dearly pay

But remember, every wound, has a healer to mend
Despair prays for hope to appear
And relief shows up after hardships and fear
Broken wings will soon turn sound and strong
To fly high as they used to do, maintaining equilibrium
Weighing both scales whatever the burden

Make of broken wings an experience, collect each hurdle
To scribble your book of life, called symposium!!

Gigi Mejri

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