The War On Gaza
There is no talk left to be written
The pens dried
And the words committed suicide
And the bodies of the children fell
On the margins of books
The war on Gaza
“The mask fell
About the mask
About the mask”
Gentlemen, honor
There is no talk left to be written
Oh the last poets of the century
Here we stand at your grave
And we repeat
My country is a washing rope
For spilled-blood wipes”
Like a choir, we repeat
“The mask fell
About the mask
About the mask”
And the mirrors of the dream broke
How many stories were lost in the corridors of time?
How many songs were repeated by the shepherds?
And the bands
And the story is not complete
The war on Gaza
There is no soul left in the soul
There is no sound left in the voice
I slaughtered the soul
And the sound broke
And it’s flying
Our souls are in the sky of shock
Seventy years and a month
Seventy years and a dream
Seventy years
And there is nothing left to write
*The breaks of the poet Mahmoud Drobash
*The Juk is a band of singers
A scene we all watched on TV the man carrying his son’s remains
imagined him a woman and compared him to myself
I’ll Close My Eyes And Sleep
She was watching me in silence
And I was watching her in panic
The woman who carries her son
In a piece of white cloth
And I was carrying a piece of me.
In a velvet cart
And I’m sobbing
She was screaming
And I was screaming like her
Oh my sleeping heart in the soil
Oh my life, what I see is fading
Slowly in front of me
I turned my back on her
And I walked
I didn’t understand the situation
She is a mother
And I’m a mother
She digs her son’s grave with her nails.
And I’m moving my son slowly to sleep.
And we both are in pain
But there is a different between us
The woman who hurts her son’s remains
And bury it in the soil
And I’m watching my son
And he plays in the garden of the house
I won’t look at the TV
Oh, mother’s heart
And my pain
I won’t look at the TV
I won’t look
And I will hug my son in my arms
And I will pray for her
I will pray to my Lord a lot
And I’ll close my eyes and sleep
We Will Not Fear Death
We will not accept this situation
Despite the bombing and destruction
We will not accept
We will not kneel to anyone other than the Lord
And at the door of truth
We will stand a lot
And we will not fear death
They killed us many times
They isolated us from the world
And they destroyed us
But we will stand
Very much at the door of truth
And we will not fear death
The childhood that was buried
In front of everyone’s eyes
Death that danced
Above the graves
And he drank blood
Innocent people
Bodies everywhere
And a dream flies overhead
Everything is here
In Gaza, he resists
Despite the pain and groaning
We will remain steadfast
At the door of truth
We will stand a lot
And we will not fear death
SOAD AL-KUWARI
SOAD AL-KUWARI: A poet. Cultural Advisor at the Ministry of Culture. Coordinator of the International Poetry Movement in Qatar. Works Published: It wasn’t my soul – eloquent poetry (2000). Desert Heiress – eloquent poetry (2001). Searching For The Age – eloquent poetry (2001). A New Door For Entry – eloquent poetry (2001). The Queen Of The Mountains – eloquent poetry (2004). The Complete Poetry Works – eloquent poetry (2022). Participated in various literary activities inside Qatar and in other countries such as Oman, the United Arab Emirates, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Sudan, France, Switzerland and Colombia and Honduras.
Beyond The River Beyond The Sea 