WORLD POETS MAGAZINE

      " The Old Guitarist " - Pablo Picasso   dried up in his room he embraces his guitar whispering to it with his fingers songs from the wedding at Galilee   his legs entwined he sits with lowered head listening to the light of blue to the shadow of a distant voice   overwhelmed by loneliness he takes the pain away from Jesus     (From the anthology of the German-Arab Poetry Salon, published by Edition lyrik-salon Spezial in Germany in 2026. Titled: "das lich ruht sich aus", / in english: " the light is rasting " )     The House Is Half Empty   in the heart of the city a very short street   on its left side stand four houses three of them inhabited by grief   the fourth - half empty the other half filled with the voices of those who left   in a silent war beneath clouds that carry no rain     (From the anthology of the German-Arab Poetry Salon, published by Edition lyrik-salon Spezial in Ge...

  Rising From beneath the Ashes   And who shelled the roses in the vase? Who broke the vase? These are the remnants of the dove's wing- The same dove that, twenty years ago, Took refuge on my balcony. Who hurled my balcony into the rubble of my ruined house? And who did the phantoms of those   Who stoned me Slip unnoticed Into the shards of my mirrors? Without my noticing?   I am the messenger , Content of what my Creator has granted me . I have not trampled a single sprout in the meadows , To wound the memory of the water. I have not cast my face into the well, Yet I found   a daffodil blooming Along the paths that lead home- My home after death. Nor have I slain a herb that follows my steps In dreams, Nor a violet that grows as memory   On my daughter's   shirt, Nor the souls of the fallen Nor the roads of suffering.    This is me- Who slowed his enemies' hands, Letting them pause, if only for a fleeting moment, Betwe...

  The Bread of Letters   I   Who will blame the trees when they loose their leaves? who will accuse the sea of abandoning shells on the sand?   I, mother-woman, woman-mother with two breasts for pleasure and two breasts for maternity who give the milk of music tell stories explain games light up feelings and the grammar of thoughts I, woman of delight and tenderness virtuous and sinful mature and childlike with my mouth I feed the bread of letters consonants and vowels sentences, synonyms and comparisons.     Who will accuse me of making a gift of my body to love?     [ from “The Abduction” by Maram Al-Masri, Translated by Hélène Cardona]         II   The act of writing isn’t it a scandalous act in itself?   To write is learning to know our most intimate thoughts   Yes I am scandalous because I show my truth and my nakedness of woman   Yes I am scandalous because I scream my sorrow and my hope my desire...