Start in 31 May 2015

Or: Epistle to Ebard true poetry must speak in spontaneous speech like unto the will of the fleeting wind it sings its own note and tune...

When my love swears that she is made of truth William Shakespeare  Translated into Aarabic by Nizar Sartawi Read Here When my ...

Snow in April A Ghazal for Manadel al-Jamadi  [2] White  presses green against the wall: brute snow in April. Green is annexe...

              LESSONS                       The mosque           in the sity soldiers burned it down… The church in...

A carrier pigeon landed on my shoulder this morning and handed me the new poetry collection "Windy Weather" by Macedonian poet  ...

For Fallujah Because poems are, after all, dialogues between the song of man and the silences of God… Jorie Graham, American Po...

My game To tempt myself I still want, because in the end it all comes down to that. As much as I could, I wish to create, to dream,...

My Mythical Country, poem No god can save our souls The bird of death Has landed on the body of the beloved it will not leave before finish...

AWAKE! I am not a race… No, sorry! I am not a nationality… No, sorry! I am not a party… No, sorry! I am not a religion… No, sorry...

Dream: The City: Baghdad, 2008 Who  am I that I sit here at this door? In my dream, there is a long alley, a place I learn Want. ...