My Auntie"s Radio ( My book)

It is a book I wrote in english,but felt hesitant to publish,though took official permission to publish.My english is not perfect but I decided to go on and publish it


My best friend bought me flowers for Eid
A mixture of white, yellow
And pink,
My friend has a different taste now,
He mixes pink with yellow
That is not my style,
I never mix these two colors together
I appreciated his beautiful
Punch of flowers.

And when the flowers
Looked dead
I waited few days
I do not bury
Half dead

The flowers looked dead
I wanted to bury them
But amazingly
New flowers blossomed
A new life resurrected
From the dead

This is just like my own life
I never bury the dead

Because nothing ever dies
In my heart
From dead a new form of life

My flowers
Reminded me of Cairo’s grave yard
Where cactus grows
Out of dust erupts
Beautiful Cactus
With its pretty flowers
But I cannot remember
If cactus grows pink and yellow


Like an orphan

Like a child
Feels lonely and abandoned
Like an orphan
Has no body’s exclusive love
Like an orphan
They returned him back
The goods is not good enough

Like an orphan
I remember the look
When visited an orphanage
Years back
Every toddler was begging for
They called every woman

Like an orphan
For love

My Auntie’s Radio

It was different to spend the night with my auntie
Home was overlooking railways
for trains
going to upper Egypt
I never visited upper Egypt
I thought the whistling trains were going
to another world

When trains passed the building
the building would shake
and I would feel frightened
and wish to go home
But somehow
I would come back for a night
never two
to spend with my auntie

The bed was four posters
with frilled curtains
and on the wall
was the wooden radio
you pull a string
it is on
you pull a string
it is off
And the sad Egyptian music
was there
filling the air
which would make me long more
for going home
But I kept coming to spend a night
But never two
with my auntie

Years on
my auntie’s husband died
and she moved to another house
with my other auntie

I asked my auntie about the radio
the wooden radio
she said
she will give me a fashionable new radio
But I said I miss the old radio
And this is just like my life
Always missing the old

Wasting living the present
for the sake of the old
till present is old
and then it will take its turn
to be cherished as old

Wasting the present
for the sake of the old



A moment of peace

Buying my coffee, a newspaper
And small peace of sweet
I walked through the park
Not a very chilly day
The sun is pleasant
And as usual

Back to my dark small office
With a little teddy
To keep my company
I started my glorious feast
With my coffee,
A little piece
Of sweet

This is
A depressed woman’s feast
I turned the papers
And here it reads
Saddam was promised
Good news

May be
They will grow some spiky plants
On his lonely grave
I finished my sweet
I felt guilty
I am so fat
There is nothing glorious in my life
To care to eat or not
A little peace of sweet

The coffee is not hot any more
Oh, this coffee shop useless man

So the glory did not last
And I sat gazing
At the orphan teddy bear
He was a burden,
Not a company
Any more

Suddenly I saw my childhood idol
The honorable mad
Mr. Van Gogh
He was rejected as ugly recently by a friend

I looked closely
I studied his looks
I remember our long lasting friendship
I never let him down by saying
Others are better than him
Because he is really the best

Somehow he managed to cheer me up
I felt happy I did not give him up
He stuck to me,
I welcomed his return
It turned that
Mr. Van Gogh is more glorious
Than my coffee, my newspapers
My little piece of sweet


First day for her

Every body left,
she heard them walk away
and she was left
in her grave

She waited for things to happen,
two angles came
and asked her the expected questions
she answered peacefully and quietly
then they left
and then others came
but she was not frightened
at all

She felt the grave getting tighter
it crushed her bone
She said oh
that is the promised final hug
from mother earth
sending earth to earth
and ashes to ashes

Then two angles came
and set up a quick trial for her
she saw her life on screen
running in seconds in front of her

Regrettably they said
here is your place in hell
and sadly they wanted to leave

She asked in a low voice
can I speak to HIM?
can I mention his NAME?
They said they will ask
left and came in a second
and said
HE the Almighty agreed
And they left her alone
in her grave

She was waiting for ages
for this moment
HIM and her
No distractions, no pain

She started singing songs of praise
Her soul wept
And she went on singing
songs of praise

Her tears filled the grave
and flow allover the grave yard
With time grew many trees
The graveyard turned into a forest
And all sort of birds
came to stay
All sort of flowers grew
And no more she was

But she was absorbed in her prayers
serene and peaceful
singing songs of praise


When you mother your mother

My mother was very kind mother,
But she did not display her affection
To us
No hugs no kisses
After you turn four
Was it three?

So when mother collapsed
In heart attack
She had rheumatic Heart disease
I just Held her in my arms
Hugging her
Kissing her
Fearing she will die
And I will never ever
Be able to hug her
Or kiss her
Any more

But she lived another month
Or so
But not as a mother
Any more
I mothered my mother
From this moment
Feeding her
Comforting her

Till one day
She was
No more

So I tell my patient’s mothers
To hug their children
Whatever their ages are
And never let them
Leave my clinic
Without display

Because when
I needed my mother’s hugs
She was not a mother
Any more
I was the mother then
For her


March April

The very cold winter is over
Cairo’s winters
Long time ago
When winter was a winter!!
Before we all
Created global warming
With sheer selfishness
And absolute greed

We used to wear layers
Weighing two kilos or more
Every day

Come home from school
The day would be over in an hour
Or two
Sits for homework
Every two of us together in a room:
The quiet with the talkative

Two talkative alone

That was
My mother’s rule

Supper time
Dressed in brushed cotton pajamas
And brushed Egyptian cotton
Colorful gowns
Watching television
Taking ages to finish supper
So we can watch more
When it is Esha prayer
And any one of us
Will pray in TV room
Mother will tell her off
Saying: are you so mean
You do not want to spend a minute
Or two with God alone?

She always taught us
To pray in a closed room
Take your time with God
That is your meeting with Him
And if you are really there
Your tears will run

But my mind used to wander even
Behind closed doors,
All difficult math problems
Will come running, rushing
They will be solved during
My two minutes meeting with God
During any prayer of the day

And my tears
Will run
When I remember the big six grade girl
Who used to bully me
Every day
And in my prayer
I will ask God
To transfer this girl
To another school
For a reason or two

Egyptian March
Long, long time ago

The lady will wait outside
The school gait
With roses
Their smell
Till now fills the gardens of my soul
So we know March is there
Mother’s Day
In March
Each one of us will come home
With a rose, never two
Because one is enough
The weekly small allowance
Is barely enough
To buy a rose
And a second hand book
Poems and all

That is March
Egyptian March
Long, long time ago

2 March 2007

If the river is there

If the river is there
Running peacefully
And the sun is
Still rising from east
And the moon
Finishing its monthly cycle
So why you feel that way

If God is always there
For us all
Good or bad
Giving us time to behave
And go back to him
So why you are sad

If hugging trees are
Every where
And shades are
Playing games with you
So what has changed for you dear?

If doves sing the only song
They know
And cats still burr
When you stroke
their backs
So what is the matter
With you
If you are still the same you
Kind and sincere
So why bother and feel sad

If God gave you all that
Why be ungrateful
By feeling sad?