Category Archives: Alisar Iram’s poems
البلبل والوردة The Nightingale and the Rose
ايها الناقوس رِنَ… رنَ… رنَ رنّم… رنّم… رنّم الا ان الرنة الضائعة هي الرنة .التي تقرع في قلبي *لقد صار قلبي، لا، ليس قارة *وليس مرعى لغزلان وليس بيتا لاوثان أوكعبة طائف فلقد صار مجرّة وصار هذا الكون الذي … Continue reading
The Rose and the Nightingale
Ring… Ring… Ring The bells do Toll Ding…ding…ding But the missing beat is the one Ringing in my heart. My heart has become Not a continent,* Not the pasture of gazelles,** No, not a temple or a mosque or a … Continue reading
They have already loved
The poem below, above my poem, is a translation (my own) of the verses that appear in my work of art . They are by the great Arab philosopher and theologian, Mawlana Ibn Arabi, 1156- 1240. My heart has now become recipient to all images As … Continue reading
Happy New Year Syria
Light your candles For Syria tonight Give light tonight As the New Year is ushered in Give light To the mother of humanity Light your candles my friends And add one year to ten thousand years. The figure is that … Continue reading
I believe Christ would choose this year to be born in Syria among the ruins of Syria
The three kings in robes of crimson and purple Halt As the gleaming star they have been following Suddenly changes course. In bewilderment, They draw themselves to their full height And put on their shining crowns. At dawn, they … Continue reading
الحب والمدينة المعذبة Love made a garden ) Reblogged
The kingdom of death multiplies in Syria. I am choking with death. A friend reposted this image and poem of mine today on Facebook, therefore I decided to do the same and reblog my post. When death reigns love collects … Continue reading
As the phoenix rises
Were it not that Syria is hanging round my neck Like the albatross of the Ancient mariner Were it not that Syria was shot in the heart Were it not that the owl will not call my name As … Continue reading
The Death of the young is upon me
“My heart is sore pained within me, and the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and the horror hath overwhelmed me. And I said, ‘Oh that I had wings like a dove! … Continue reading
Comment in poetry on the death of children by the chemical attack
They are there under the trees crying They are there not up the trees laughing Among the apples and the olives because They are there piercing the dominion of death sobbing, Death itself cradling the newborn and the infants lamenting … Continue reading
Are they bombing cities or are they bombing our souls: the heroism of annihilating your citizens with Scud missiles
Cities of smoke Smouldering burning Blazing In a configuration Of stone concrete steel And human flesh Cities of rubble debris wreckage Of rubbish and broken homes Pasted with remains With the white bones of children Cities crackling baking … Continue reading