Killer Born.
He threw his
corpse over a rickety wooden bed, the graying of his head quarrels with him,
after he was exhausted by the stabs of waiting, and he put the perfume of his
tears on the pillow with which the dragon of the long night perfumes. He
mumbles between the lips and curses the divisions of his ungrateful face, which
accompanies him every morning. Is this the harbinger of the night disguised
me..?! paid, think carefully and wonder, is this the straight path? ..
Suddenly the
sound of his blue window rang out... on it.
The happiness of
life comes with the birth of hope after despair, and despair born from the womb
of hope is fatal.
The Season Of Death...
the feet of the
night confuse
running behind
the mirage
And your eyes
are wellsprings of light
The sunrise no
longer matters to me
And you are the
antidote to serenity...
Increase me with
your moonlit face
The stars are
embracing each other
Unity from
afar...
blessed is the
land that bore a kiss
It has a
pulsation of blood in the vein.
oh, miss my
heart
and the last
bundle of spring
Oh cringe, the
glow of dawn
young man of the
night beasts
with the spurs
of deviation bear no grudge
a crying baby
threatens me
come back..
come back with
your charming perfume
with the scent
of pomegranate vibration
Is it not time...
to put out the fires of longing?!
O Samara of the
heart...
The wind does
not desire my ships
the leprosy is a
long-earned grievous
The sky does not
promise me anything but drowning
And I see spring
blooming
With his
addictive purple fields
With your sexy
perfume..
On the journey
of the third millennium that
My burning
memory passed through my life
She has
documented her precious catch
As black as the
eyes of gulls
And you braid
the braids of my sails
Torn by the
shoulder of the sea
And you sigh
with the whine of the sunrise..
And I do not
leave the spectrum of your soul
My little girl,
you blue dove
Let the sight
trip..
settle in jovi
And turn off the
burners of your sandy time
The powder is in
us.
And open the
quorum of a lifetime of paper
For another
chapter.. don't miss
It is not like
the inherited seasons
as a serious
scattered gene
Among the
canines of the tribe..
Death Whispers
Dreams are loaf
of the poor
And that dish
covered with heartbreaks
It is only
filled with sobs!
Who hears the call?
Whoever slips
over my shoulder
A bruised
isolation?
Those empty
alleys
from the
whispers of the night
Alone you are
for the soul to survive
Forest of Ideas
Waitress
taming the eyes
of the winery
Moisturize the
throat of desires
With a touch of
tenderness without meeting
Even the cracks
in the walls
on which fingers
glide
The cheeks of
its corners are red
Heaven's chants
stammer
I wish you would
come back like the pulse of a lamp
Congratulations
on the olive season!
Nassem Naseem
Perfume (Chanel)
We wish you a
long life in generosity
I can still hear
your heart
He sings the
song of love
He is watered by
his light..
To apply silence
in every courtyard
We swim with the
rewards of patience
We are swept
away by the springs of shame
Like a baby who loves
To practice the
rite of hope
The singing of
these legends
Riad Shabak
Al-Ayoun
Insane, stabbing
conversations
to be lubricated
with weeping bats
Find what
longing gives its gifts
And what the
soul acquires voluntarily
She is in your
hands, Sajida
The tremor of
the sword will not go back
studded horse
saddles
With the
disappearance of the curtain of darkness
I ride the
waves,
Life will not
come back to him..
ADNAN RIKANI
Dr. ADNAN AL-RIKANI,
born in 1971 in the city of Mosul. Iraq - Kurdistan Region. Poet and
journalist
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