February 2018
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Photo credit: Tarek Roumie
The Streets Are Unkind
The streets are unkind to me,
they teach me about the tough life
every day.
They teach me about roughing it
in this merciless world
to grab the tree by the vines
and swing to the other side.
Drunkards with their backs against
the wall
holding on to their bottles
or dear life
like some invincible potion
that would keep them sane
and alive.
Lovers making love
in the backseat of an old Mercedes
just to survive
and make it through the night.
Loners were out there
dealing and selling drugs
for a lifeline
or a watchful eye that showed them
care and compassion.
The streets were not for everyone,
yet those who weren’t made for them
felt a sense of belonging there –
Perhaps even more than those
who were shaped by them.
The graffiti on the walls testify
to the growing pain and angst
and loveless fights that took place there.
Now I find myself walking into them
again
like walking for the first time
A man reborn, unburnt,
unhurt by the tribulations
and misfortunes that drove me here
with you in mind
with love in mind
one hand reaching for the filth
and reeking stench of death
the other pulling me back
– slightly, ever so slightly –
The road behind me quickly evaporates
swallowed by darkness
as the road in front of me
opens up to introduce its demons
and your eyes,
your eyes at the center of it all
watching, judging,
waiting for me to make my move
on the battlefield
and I think to myself,
there
is
no
backtracking
now.
Photo credit: Odette Scapin
In The Face
I always looked Love
in the face
the way a heliophobe
stares
at the sun.
Tipping my head back
and barely looking.
Stealing the light from between
sunburns
and always inflicting
damage to whoever was holding
the staring contest,
regardless of
how damn good he was.
No matter the rhythm,
No matter the melody,
the shades were always calling
my name
and I (almost) never
missed their calls.
The rain always promised
clean pages and seasonal
grass.
A road the back of my feet
can accurately measure
A path I am able to foresee
all of its potholes.
A thorn was simply a price I was
never willing
to pay for a rose…
But tonight,
in the light of this rose
between our opposing bodies
I stare…
directly
into your dark eyes,
and from the shadow of
this gaze,
a thousand suns are born.
I am looking Love
in the face
steadily.
All the sunburns in Hell can finally head my way.
Photo credit: Myriam Nehmeh
Time
By Myriam Azar
I have a hole in my heart
I cannot see it bleeding
even the wound is hidden to the common eye
I am blind but I can feel I am running out of time
Time…
If only I knew love
only it can sew me back together
my broken temple
it is going to be okay
Love or Death?
Time…
Will I ever be whole again?
I have a hole in my heart only I can see now
Photo credit: Dina Sami
Oil
By Sara Houmani
The Only Supremacy
I will abide by
Is your upper Rim
Atop my own
Biting its way into
My lower
Esteem.
This territory
Is under siege
In the look for
Oil
And all you get
is Moisture
Pin your banner hands
Deeper into this dust
& Squeeze
the Extremities
& Mother Earth
Might just
Grace you
With Some
Honey.
Photo credit: Felix Russell-Saw
Guitar Riffs
Guitar riffs reciting your play’s lines
They ring the neighbor’s ear like crowd cheers
Violins wheezing, portraying the decaying paint running down the oil painting, drown me
Force your heart down my throat
I’m not alive if I am loved
Spirals shot from empty water basins
Spoons of sugar bring hell to the liars
Steady the levels of righteousness that bring feathers to your rusty net
I am not the message for peace
I am barely peaceful with myself
If music will sleep against your chest
I’ll be covering your naked soul during the night
Photo credit: Odette Scapin
The Revelation
I gaze at you now and I see heaven’s work
drowning in hell’s deepest holes
under headlines of agony
The palm of my hand reaches out
to caress your cheek
but you turn your head the other way
Like a snake wrapped tightly around your neck,
you pull on your hair in attempt to escape the vicious words
displayed like banners through the shadows of your open mind
The venom travels through every vein
and your once red fluid turns blue
and it floods onto the portraits of hope that no longer exist
My eyes insist on witnessing the destruction of your empire,
the crumble of your bones
and ultra-violent split of your flesh
Your ribcage slams open like the gates of Babylon
unleashing imprisoned stray hummingbirds deep inside a demolished haunted house
once known as shelter
Those birds you are no longer familiar with the tune of,
similarly to the way colors became old news,
for you could no longer see yellow post-dry up of sunflower petals
Same way the clouds formed an upgraded version of the Great Wall of China over your sun
5 AM sunrises were only another reminder of loneliness
and it didn’t even matter what your first grade art teacher had taught you
the only rainbow you knew involved different shades of black,
each one a little bit darker than the previous
And so your crystals crash onto the firm earth,
despite my mother’s requests not to approach shattered glass barefoot
I hastened to pick up the innumerable pieces endeavoring to stitch you whole
but the puzzle was way too bewildering.
So I paused for a moment to breathe in the sight, it was all too familiar.
My mother once warned me to be careful when trying to fix a broken person,
for you may cut yourself on their shattered pieces
But when both are already crippled,
perhaps there is nothing to fear
Perhaps the energy ignited between the touch of our fingers could light up the entire galaxy
with the reflection of our broken glass facing one another
Perhaps the combination of my broken and your broken
could be the best creation of all time
المصوّر: عزيز أشاركي
أراكي
الشاعرة نور كبّارة
أراكي تأخذين من وجوه المارّة
منزلا
تدفنين معالمك في معالمهم
تستعبدين الغريب لتريحي نفسا لم تعد تعرف كيف تمرر الوقت
أسمع ندائك من أفواها لم تدرك بعد أن أحدا تلّبسها
لأسمع صوتا وسعت به الدنيا حين ترددّ و ضاقت بغيابه
هذه الروح لكِ تشتاق دائما
تمضي و كأنما لا مكانة للمسافة و لا معنى للأماكن
أراكي جالسة بقربي
تتكلمين عن قلبك بصفة الغائب المنسي
و قلبك هو من سمعته يتكلم
شاء الهوى أن يترك رحيق عطرك على ثيابا أخذت منها منزلا
لكي تدوم هذه الزيارات حين يحل اليل
كم رغبنا لو أن البُعد كان مرضا في العقل و ليس واقعا نعد فيه الأيام
سلاما لك يا من أحببتني كما أنا
و أحببتك كما أنت
سلاما لك و عليك و أنت تمشين على سجيتك
تمرّين بالمشاة المستعجلين
تعّدين الوجوه
إلى حين يظهر وجهي متلّبسا أحدا منهم
يبتسم
و يقول سلاما لروحٍ رُبطة روحه بها
Photo credit: Rachel Chisholm
Now I see it in her eyes
By Flay
At a dread droll dull day
As boring as all shall past
Covered with mist of gray
Vision of delusion’s cast
With a walk long and flat
As normal of a life before
Nothing exciting with that
Yet my heart pleads for more
So mild the drizzled rain
Yet so pale I was and worn
Angry to my dismay of pain
In a mood of bitter forlorn
The world bent on my chest
As hard to breath and stand
I struggled to meet my best
With a cold and trembling hand
Armless, unprepared to fight
Of a dread day of gloom
In my life of fading light
And the hollow face of doom
–
But then I heard it slow
From behind a voice so mild
Those whispers I heard in low
Of this world running wild
I stopped and waited to see
Who should emerge of the walk
That dim light caressing me
And like a pelican I stood and stalk
A figure short and pleasant
Briskly came to my sight
Yet I never realized my present
Of her flare shinning bright
As if there was a greater sun
In a gray and sorrowful sky
As if the walk was new and fun
And the flower may never die
She was there, at a single stare
Before me so calm and serene
Of what pain and of what despair?
Of what I know? yet never seen
In the gray with a rosy face
A perfect contrast with the cold air
And I was frozen in my place
My reality was trapped with her
Her eyes so brown and rich
Sparkling like water in the well
Puzzled and couldn’t tell which
And I knew in what hell I fell
And the wind blows her hair
Of a perfume of cheerful taste
And I knew what we would share
Like everything is perfectly placed
–
She saw me there on the stair
In a glum and fading state
And I wanted to caress her
Yet I realized the irony of fate
Of two battling worlds I saw
Her’s filled with joy and peace
And mine’s with suffers I know
That I long for a life to cease
Yet with a smile she took the flow
And I surrendered to her flare
Inviting and genuine will show
Of a life I could not dare
So pure, so soft, and evergreen
Completely untainted by the day
Bursting with warmth I glean
Of this man from dust and clay
After that it was never the same
As I walk with a spark within me
After that the day was never lame
And my soul forever will be free
One smile that I want mine
One special at my sweet suffocation
Of my life I waited that sign
At a spell of bitter-sweet sensation
She turned at my own dismay
With a smile from heavenly skies
I’ve seen the world in gray
But now I see it in her eyes
Photo credit: Aziz Acharki
<| <| Rewind |
By Maria Etre
Fall on my lips
while I fall with
gravity
hitting cotton clouds
of serenity
that you filled
in every cell of me
Take me back
defy physics
hold the hands of time
and turn them back
< <Rewind time
I’d replay drunken dawns
maybe memories
I forgot to remember
moments that fled
when I blinked
Rewind
PRESS PLAY |>
replay
again and again
with you
Walk backwards with me
pulling the lines of our
almost wrinkles
pulling them back
to relive the smooth days of youth
ready to reflect the recklessness
that will stitch itself
in the stories of the future
nestle in the wrinkles
that will vessel our faces
one day
Lay your hand on my chest
let your warmth melt ice
that filled its cracks
and mend it, weld it painfully
let the cracks fall into each
other and glow like iron
when hot
let them melt for each other
the same way I did
for you
Cup my cheek with the other
the surface that witnessed
salty waterfalls over
and over
from the left eye
dense with sadness
and the right
with droplets
of happiness
sometimes wiped by a lover
others soaked with a napkin
closer than any
when none were
around
…
Whisper to me
things your heart marinated
over the years
for it’s never too late
to start over
Photo credit: Jessica Andersdotter
What Lead us
By Jamil Adas
What lead 7
before 8
What lead the apple
to get plucked
What lead the world to rotate
on a spike
What lead Libon to tessellate
the temple to Zeus
What lead Imhotep’s stone blocks
to mount each other
Curiosity killed the cat
but what lead curiosity to its path?
Care killed us all and satisfaction brought us back.
For the sake of us
let it keep leading.
Thank you to every writer for the thought infusing poems contributed and
thank you to every passerby for reading the art of our talented poets.
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Beirut Poetics edition
send your poem or request to be a “visual artist” to poetry@beirutpoetics.com
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