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
Flowers
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
But
I appreciated his beautiful
Punch of flowers.
And when the flowers
Looked dead
I waited few days
Because
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
Resurrects
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
Flowers
30-Oct-06
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
Love
They called every woman
Mum
Like an orphan
Begging
Silently
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
and
because
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
19-2-2007
VAN GOGH
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
Alone
Back to my dark small office
With a little teddy
To keep my company
I started my glorious feast
With my coffee,
Newspaper
And
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
And
My little piece of sweet
9-1-2007
First day for her
Every body left,
she heard them walk away
and she was left
alone
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
alone
But she was absorbed in her prayers
serene and peaceful
singing songs of praise
5-2-2007
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
Or
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
14-2-2007
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
Never
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
And
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
Saying
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
And
Amazingly,
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
March
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
And
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?
6-2007
