Poetry


I have decided to move my poetry to a blog that is dedicated to just that. Poetry. So If you care to read my poems you can follow this link

http://shalabiehspoetry.wordpress.com

Enjoy.

I still my pen because I still my mind. It leads me to places that I have visited time and time again. I am tired of my mind and so I am tired of where my pen goes. 

I still my pen because I still my mind. It leads me to beautiful places that only exist there. I want to share them only with myself and so because I am selfish my pen is quiet. 

I still my pen because I still my mind. It remembers a history told before. It remembers happiness and pain. It remembers laughter and anger. It remembers what cannot be shared, and so it forgets as does my pen. 

I still my pen because I still me mind. Nothing is worthy of the ink. It dries on paper with empty words. There is no story to tell. There is no inspiration.

I still my pen, I still my mind, I still my heart.  

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
I’ll and show you it faces
I’ll show you its places

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
You can hear it voices
You can feel its pulses

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
It is as old as time
It has many stories to tell

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
You can write your own history
Make your own tapestry

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
Meet the players
Feel its rhythm

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
A walk through antiquity
A walk through history

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus
See it through my eyes
See it through new eyes

Let me take you for a walk in Damascus  

The Argeela bubbles
The sweet scented smoke clouds
I am lost in the headiness of it all
The coals swirl around, hot, red, don’t touch you’ll burn
I in hale deeply, knowing the danger, loving the effect
Her voice bubbles
In the dark, it gurgles, it laughs
In the dark, she is my vice
She is my release
She is my pastime, my leisure
My quiet voice in the dark
The voice of thought, of anger, of laughter and of pleasure
The voice that whispers sweet nothings all around me through smoke
She is my vice that I can not indulge
She is the voice I can not hear
She is my voice in the dark
She is the argeela.  

It boils
It rages
It reaches the rim
It surfaces
But it stays within 

I anger from silence
I anger from indifference
I anger from pain
I anger from words never spoken
I anger from within 

My pen writes in fury
My mind races with thought
My feet stomp the path way
It is all a hurricane circling within.

I see a halo of light.
I see a halo of words.
I see a halo of deeds.
I see a halo of history.
I see a halo of promises.
I see a halo of friends.
There are many circles around you.

The light is ever changing like you.
The words sometimes flowing from you.
The deeds speak of the inner you.
The history is what makes you.
The promises are what bind you.
The friends, they up lift you.
There are many circles around you.

These are the circles that I see.
These are the circles that I remember.
These are the circles that are you.
These are the circles that I enter. 
  

I dance the night away, and every song is you
I sleep endless nights, and every waking dream is you
I live every distraction, and every moment is you

You are the shadow that follows, even in the dark
You are the seconds of time, that run away
You are the clouds the cover the winter sky, dark, heavy and wet

I smell the coffee every morning, but you are the summer Jasmine
I hear the bells of Sundays, but you are the morning lark
I see the reflection in the mirror but you are the picture hidden in the memory
 

You are the elusive near
You are the distant clear
You are the effervescent that disappears

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