ADNAN AL-RIKAN

 

Barren Echo..

The engravings of the moon's houses

Radiates fragrant hymns of the earth

When the rain embraces it..

And from the bliss my land carried

Violet and balsam the soul was perfumed

Above the clouds of death..

The plots of danger,

The mind is unique in your details

And the heart, its merits, pull the string

The night is lined with the pulse of its songs

And the shouting of the stars screaming

Like the waves surmounting the sea..

Whenever I climb that unknown

To inhabit the ghost towns,

I am an outcast in my funeral

Death claps around me without a deadline,

I sat on the hybrid hills..

I rubbed my face in her shackled right hand

For that sacred garment suits

The stature of the margins of my story..

And in her lair I found myself the one who was molded

How withered was the soul?

Stumbling with nothingness and customs

Until the throats of letters rusted

And the eyes overflowed from them ..

So I returned to wear your visions

And my grandfather's advice knocks on my head ..

With the balance of the hand of night and day

And with every decision I erase the sentences

Like protective plates for the tiles of poetry ..

But rebellious lines of anomalies

Ink ground by postponed time

How many feathers of dreams have we plucked without being noticed?

And we threw them in the threshing floors of a furtive laugh

For the passages of hungry papers to groan,

Whenever the lips of my pen embraced ..

I drew the last lost smile

At the end of the line ..!

Who Taught You?

Who taught you? That dawn absorbs its dew and opens its arms to the smile of a gypsy sun, and draws inspiration from the wrinkles of the sky's arbors and the harvest of its hanging breasts, how to caress the lips of the night and the chaos of an upcoming absence, to distract us with the splitting of the moon.!!, O pregnant with the vigour of my mischief, are you the eternal echo sealed in the beats of my heart?, Those fingers drunk in their adventures expressing the boundaries of space and obstructive time, moving as they wish between the daisies and licking the nectar, so there is no harm in the patience of the mills when they drink from the eyelids of the wind a sip of Maysaa's poem, and the dust sticks to its soft circles whenever its features are soaked in the face of the water, and September returns yellow with the fall of its sleeping leaves, like a dream coughing at the end of the tunnel ..! In those stormy fields, she gathered the amulets of my frightening shadow under her blue dress, after the trees had let down the birds' nests and thrown them far away in the open, and she heard the screams of a silent letter asking to ride the orbit of eloquence, to be a house of wishing and repeating the last tune of loyalty, for it no longer benefits, if only in a life that was consumed by suffering and misery..!

And It Is Ashes..

Your looks soaked with eagerness, fell over my decertified desires, and entered between the cracks of my petrified body, to quench my deadly thirst, I walk in the footsteps of a trembling light, I sense the radiance of a whiteness opposed to the fog, whenever I receive a banner at its southern foothills, I drown in the mud of its femininity, and drink from the palm of the garment of sighs a lavish perfume, I intended to build from the ashes of my death castles and a fortified fortress, to repel the arrows of overwhelming negligence, its jaws climb the ivy tree, and the tune of the birds’ tune chirps on its bare legs, and in every grain of it a hymn for the night of love and a fleeing lust, intoxicated by the sparkle of the attaining eyes, and the bed groans on its empty thresholds, to tread the ground forcefully, but now it has neither a voice nor a creak, nothing remains of its shape The usual, so don't think that I'm not afraid for you or even thinking about you, but I can't with my broken memory ask you what's wrong with you?, because the third person pronoun can't fill the gap of the news, and I know very well, I am that heart that beats with your breath, and I am the tenderness that surrounds your mischievous shadow without compensation, and I am the only one who revives your heart when it is ashes.

ADNAN AL-RIKANI