Long time ago.. A wise man shaved his beard.. His face glowed with that bright shining star light in a sacred night.. The god of absurd death and dull life walked into the glow And anger filled his bearded heart.. Life was draining from the horizon And the sun forgot the morning to come.. A beard grew in protest on the edges of his delusional face. Long time a go.. Not far away from where you sit.. A man walks in the wind Pleasing a lonely god with An apocalyptic beard..
By: Giuma Bukleb The room’s window is open on the day. The day is open on a sky like a wilderness of ash. In the room is a double bed, that is close to the window that is open on the day light that is open on a sky like a wilderness of ash. Opposite the double bed, that is close to the window that is open on the day light that is open on a sky like a wilderness of ash, is a small wooden desk with a computer on top. Beside the small wooden desk with a computer […]
By: Moftah al-Ammari** Show me my name I am drunk with my labour Show me my home Addresses of my family My face And my shadow if you can Show me O Father, and take a country ________________________ * From the collection (Mashyet Al’aser) – Libya – 2004 ** Moftah al-Ammari: born 1956, a renowned Libyan poet. Began writing short stories in the late 1970’s and by the mid 1980’s he emerged as one of the leading new poets in Libya. He has twelve published books.
I still walk towards the south, When the wind blows some dreams on the empty streets, Pavements offering a bed from nightmares and promises of a sunny day. I still stand on the shore drawing footsteps on the sand, Leaving a trail of laughter?! Or maybe they were tears! I can still see through the darkness of night images of those that walked with us on the corniche, Throwing pebbles and cursing a never coming rain, Counting the blinking lights of the harbour before blowing farewells to the forsaken city. They still walk towards us, Fists challenging […]
Poem by: Giuma Bukleb If that part of the river Thames, below “Kingston Bridge”, where the trees are willingly anchored, on both banks, Had eyes It might have glanced, on that hour of the evening, the alertness of my anxiety, It might have noticed, at the same moment, how the desire of the poem, setting its traps in my blood for the seagulls’ flutter, And pigeons’ revelation! If that part of the river Thames, where “Kingston Town” is floating like a paper boat, had eyes It might have sighted, with astonishment, how my body beats with the fever of the […]
If you walk inthe streets of the Libyan capital Tripoli these days, you will probably feelthat this city hasn’t been under the siege of a brutal dictator for nearly sixmonths of the Libyan revolution. The presence of Gaddafi is being erased notonly from the walls and billboards of the capital where they used to stand, butalso from the memory of many Libyans. Living all yourlife under a cult dictatorship and then coming to the realisation that thetyrant isn’t sharing the air that you breath anymore, isn’t easy to reach. As aLibyan you were faced everyday with a reminder that Gaddafi […]