I like to read and write in the English language on topics such as society, politics, business, education, sports, and worldly issues.
1. A Girl
I smile, in tears, like a butterfly fluttering in an abandoned boy's shirt.
2. One Day
One day, in war, I threw a rose on a tank, and it exploded ...
3. A Thousand and One Nights Story
I reached the town with the wind of desire. I fell, like a feather, in one of its streets, and people were fighting with each other with different weapons: many corpses, crows crowing on the fences, and there was a tree that fled, leaving its branches in the garden. In the shade of the tree is a dog that barks, and an ant extends its tongue, making fun of it, as it moves its village to another hole, in Nai Matrouh where the wind is yellow, announcing its participation in the party.
I found myself witnessing to the crying of the night crying, and during the day, as he carried a lantern, in search of the sun swallowed by despair, for fighting takes place, sometimes for a passing cloud, or for music, no one knows from which window it is leaking.
Other times it runs because one of them passed, and they did not bow.
If you bow, you will survive a ready launch, and there is another ready, from the opposite side, if you bow.
I did not reach the town except because the news said: You are here, but the fighting was fierce, and I did not find you, you fleeing the garden, naked, on one of the nights of a thousand and one nights, and I could not get out or escape from this predicament, until after I woke up From sleep, where Sherazade is still in her place, watchful, she continues to tell the story.
Love your pallor that harmonizes with the fall, and your contemplative silent sadness that falls with the rain. You should take off your robes, go out of the window, and run away with the open air, as in the cinema, as no one rinses the heart of the world with the glow of sorrow other than your tears. Streets.
5. Primitive Dance
Raise holes in the heart of the world by singing, and from chants I weave a hat for those who go to love with the cleanliness of a rose. I laugh at the smiling face, and whistle with the sparrow, who stood on my shoulder and then flew away, leaving his last tweet as a souvenir, or I lift the burden of those returning from the massacre of life with broken hearts, trying to keep my calm, even though the storm, which I do not know how or where it came from , I overthrew my inner peace, so the drum beat, and the anxiety dance, to his rhythm, his primitive dance.
I know that the end is about to arrive, loaded with its precious and cheap weights, but I will open the door before it knocks on, so that it can enter the great emptiness, so that it will witness what will happen. I will let her enter to find me in full isolation, as I promised her, smoke my last cigarette, raising my voice singing, alone, in the room.
© 2020 Hafiz Muhammad Adnan