Three Poems by Patricia Amundsen

 Come dance with me on a Spider’s Web in slippers of silver and gold. We will trip the light fantastic dodging the Spider’s grasp and bounce up and down in a world of our own under Stars and the Moon. We will love each other forever in a fantasy spun of gold and as God smiles upon we sweet selves Angels fly in a circle protecting Divinity’s Soul.
Like a Lighthouse in a stormy Sea, you are always beaming, guiding my little Boat to the Light. I beam back a smile of my own rising like waves from the depth of my Soul.
I love being able to live among Nature with Birdsong and the sound of the Pacific Ocean’s thundering climax as it meets the shore, God’s orchestra resounding in all its glory.
Patricia Amundsen

THE WOMB by Lamis Ibrahim Katsina

The stars in shreds the expanse of sky the canvas the moon. Nocturnal owls shriek omens, lives gravitate to mothers wombs, in the rooms where flowers grow. To creep by the windows by the eaves. Dispel worries dispense grace, abiding gravity in flowing in floating above bubbles above foams solid on the rock. Comfort compassion hold in walls of magnetic fields. There souls retire in sleepy roam.

The Flood Of Eternity; prose poem By Anwer Ghani

The grand flood was a teacher who learnt his student the secrets of eternity. Utnapishtim knew all the secrets when the mightiness of water transfigured in front of his eyes. There are no fairies or witches on the flood but Utnapishtim realized the listen and knew the essence of life. In front of the wide eyes of the flood, Utnapishtim built his big ship to save our life and all these smiles. Gilgamesh crossed the great sea to meet Utnapishtim, the man of the flood who told him about the plant of immortality which resides peacefully behind the wide sea. Gilgamesh traversed the wide sea and found the eternity plant but when he entered the cold pond to swim, a snake of destiny stole the timelessness from our hands. Yes, Utnapishtim grasped the eternity because he had built a big ship while Gilgamesh lost his immortality plant because he just made a small boat. The flood has a heart, so it learned Utnapishtim the wisdom and the secrets of life while Gilgamesh’s plant has a sleepy eyes, so it chose the snake instead of us.

Anwer Ghani
anwar jaber

Revelations that Close the Doors of Grief A prose poem by Kareem Abdullah & Rahmeh Innab

 When homeland faded away, the rivers of its dreams disappeared, the soul lamented its being rusted, the teeth of its whales whiz, distressing the beautiful dreams, it is overwhelmed by chaos, contained in the orange blooms that escape the ash of frustration, in the far, it changes the clothes of its grieves, to be a companion, it aspires for you to decode the mysteries of its laughter usurped streets, how majestic the rock of exile is! crouching to close the doors of day wishes, its ruthless grin confiscates the shine of the dawn, it is suddenly overtaken by the frost of silence, appealing for the compassionate salvation, like a butterfly breaking the dark of the cocoon, as greedy as light to hasten the secrets of emancipation, waiting for Don Quixote* to whip the horses of madness, ridding the princesses’ treasures of the grip of numerous grieves, which are by wind borne, the tenderness of fear burdens the freshness of joy, so bewitched by the isles of sapphire, goes on fighting fiercely to preserve a conviction that demolishes delusions, racing with her musically tuned pale tear, as radiating to familiarize the gloom of tablet-inscribed time, sneaking scent that saddles the pulse, slaying the dark, stricken by thickets of the spittle, we pour the epics of love wine that melts the steel of myths outside time, we are here alone, arranging lamps of the Unseen, filled with cantos of orotund unification, we melt together, despair slaps a harbinger that chants the birth of our new skies, contending the revival of the fertility seasons, Who experienced the burning of love, lightens the whirl of desert whose horses breed the neighing of whispering springs, shaking the thrones of compassion, harboring the ups and downs of my alienation, at the outskirts of the rising of joy, we tear the lust of the exiles of fog, we, hurriedly knock at the doors of miracles, soaring high, embarking on the horizon of the clove branches by the sap of the stars holiness, hovering round the rhythm of the heart, revelations that are accustomed to domes of fascinating songs, we cocoon together one womb accompanying the shadows of the sun that prepares the resurrection of the queen of the soul butterflies, at the beginning of the morning, we wash up the purity of craving of meetings, we sprinkle the pouring of embers of eagerness, a drop whose rivers run on the breasts of our dawn, her beaches dance, repaying the bills of the beauties of the past disappointment, so that we can wash up the cruelty of the present by eyes water and close the doors of grief.
Translated by me John Henry Smith
Kareem Abdullah                                                                            Rahmeh Innab
6423a-kareem2babdullah rahmeh