.. The moon left me. Written by the poet. a. Muhammad Baliq Hamidou. Morocco.. رحل عني القمر.. بقلم الشاعر. ا. محمد بليق حميدو

The moon has departed from me ************** The moon has departed from me and the darkness has spread and it burned, oh my candle. I am to blame. I sang too much about the stars. Am I not that lovelorn lover or did I count that orphaned infant? I heard nothing in this night except the sound of an owl. Where are the songs? The blackbird has fallen asleep. Hearts have died and there is no way forward. The letters of love have been martyred in the sea. Covenants are no longer anything but contracts and bridles. We are nostalgic for the times of grandmother and mother. Even if life is difficult, there is harmony. We adore, love, and part on the same day. This is the state of our time. Toxins of hypocrisy and lies flow through the minds. A quarrelsome grape, laugh at the time when a woman drove her husband with a bridle, and he who repented, thanked his Lord, and was upright won. ...Poet A. Muhammad Bliq/ Hamidou Morocco 2024@ 

رحل عني القمر

**************

رحل عني القمر وعم

الظلام

فاشتعلي يا شمعتي

انا الملام

افرطت في التغني

بالنجوم

الست ذلك العاشق

المتيم

او عدت ذلك الرضيع

اليتيم

لم اسمع في هذا الليل

الا صوت البوم

واين  اغاني الشحرور

ام  نام

ماتت القلوب فلا مسير

الى الامام

واستشهدت حروف العشق

في اليم

ولم تعد العهود الا عقود

و لجام

فحنين الى ازمان الجدة 

و الام 

وان كان العيش صعب

 ففيه الوءام

نعشق ونحب ونفترق

في نفس اليوم

هذا حال زماننا تجري

في العقول سموم

نفاق وكذب و من حبة

عنب خصام 

فاضحك على زمن ساقت

امراة زوجها باللجام

وفاز من تاب وشكر ربه 

و استقام

....................................

الشاعر ا.محمدبليق/

حميدو

المغرب2024@

.. Wounded Gaza.. by the poet.. Faleh Al-Saadi.. غزه الجريحه للشاعر.. فالح السعدي

Wounded Gaza and Gaza. so. She called on the grandparents to protect childhood from such hatred. What did Gaza gain from the masters? Look. Sore hearts. I have never hugged any of my grandchildren. It is shameful for me to say I am Arab because of the diaspora. Incoming. And every one of them who abandoned this Palestine has cried from the intensity and tears of the calamities. Like the tears of someone in love or someone. He became like thieves. Hearts are clean. Everyone knows the pain of the longing poet Faleh Al-Saadi 

غزه الجريحه

وغزة. اذ. نادت على الاجداد

       احموا الطفوله من هكذا حقادا

ماذا جنت غزه من الاسيادا

 انظر. قلوب تقرحت. ماعانقت يوما

  من الاحفادا

عار علي ان قلت انا عربي

    لان الشتات. واردا.  وكل من منهم

    بالتخلي سباقا

هذي فلسطين قد بكت من شدة النكبات

 ودمعها. كدمع شخص مغرم او احد. اصبح

   كالسراقا

دعوا.  القلوب نظيفتا.    والكل يعرف لوعة

المشتاقا 🌺🌼🌹🌼🍀🌹

الشاعر فالح السعدي

.. And the year has passed.. Written by.. Sherine Abu Amira.. ومر العام. بقلم.. شيرين ابو عميره

And the year has passed.............and the year has passed. Between a sigh, between a tear and a laugh, between a word and a silence, between a bow and a prostration, between a sin and repentance, between a meeting. And parting is attached to all the roads, a path from its promise, and the window of life is ajar, and he opened the hookah on the morning, and the sun of the unseen whispers, and life outside is your lot, where do you not know, and where are you going that you do not understand? Neither the day we came as we responded nor did we come on the day we returned. We walked in it on our heels and slung it on our shoulders and our shawl with our palms, and we count it and occupy our thoughts with it, and we go on. It is as it is and always. For whom do we bid farewell to a year with people who have passed away and welcome people who are coming on the paws of life? We are beginning to wonder at its affairs a lot, and despite its pain, we thank God and are alive, and we will spread our stones for tomorrow and a new year in which we will find satisfaction. To the praiseworthy, Sherine Abu Amira. May you always be well and happy. 

ومر العام

.............

ومر العام مابين الآه 

مابين الدمعه والضحكه

مابين الكلمه والسكته

مابين الركعه والسجده

مابين الذنب والتوبه

مابين لقا. وفراق

متعلقه كل الطرق

فكه من وعدها سكه

وشباك الحياه موارب

وفاتح شيشه على بكره

وشمس الغيب بتهمس

والحياه غربه 

نصيبك فين متعرفش

ورايح فين ماتفهمش

لا يوم جينا كما ردنا

ولا جينا في يوم ردنا

مشينا فيها على كعوبنا

وشلناها على كتافنا

وشالتنا بأكفنا 

ونحسبها ونشغل بيها تفكرينا

وماشيه هيَ على كيفها

ودايمه لمين نودع عام 

بناس فارقوا

ونستقبل  بناس جايين

على كفوف الحياه بدئين

ونستعجب أمورها كتير

ورغم وجعها بنحمد ربنا 

وعايشين  

ونفرد حجرنا لبكره وعام جديد

نلاقي فيه الرضا للحامدين

✍️شيرين ابو عميرة 🌹

دمتم بخير وسعاده

.شعب فلسطين..بقلم الشاعروالاديب العامي.يوشع علي اسماعيل. The people of Palestine.. Written by the poet and colloquial writer.. Joshua Ali Ismail..

The people of Palestine......... Oh slogan of shame, you must resign. You are no longer a title and a guide to poetry. You no longer have free pens, nor a mind to water from Salsabila. You have drowned in the waist and eyes of the brown. The dignity of a penny, in the warehouse you have removed, and with the penny I have bought red pens, and the wine reflector is cooing, and in the dance bars you have made a lifetime. And I spoke on my chest, and on my chest, and on my wick, and on the cheeks of roses. I poured out wine and became intoxicated with the scent of perfume, and they beautified, and I left peoples, and I cursed with embers on the roads, gathering the dead and the children of death, overwhelming it. There was no longer a mother until they mourned and forgot a cause purer than pearls. The people of Palestine, Al-Aqsa, and Hebron, and the displacement of its people from air to land, and blood flowing like a river on the land. Lebanon is one of the incubators of the Arabs, and Syria is conspiring with its fellow literary writers to make money, evil, and humiliation of the hero’s soul. There is no leader of a word of truth. Fifty-three countries gathered until our missile in the Galilee heard our neighing............. ............. With my pen... Yusha Ali Ismail, a scholar and poet. 

شعب فلسطين 

.........

يا شعار الزجل واجب تستقيلوا

                          ماعدتوا للشعر عنوانوا ودليلوا

ما عاد عندكم أقلام حره

                       ولا   عقل  يسقي  من  سلسبيلوا 

غرقتوا بخصر وعيون السمرا

                          كرامة  قرش  بالخزني  تشيلوا

وبالقرش اشتريت قلام حُمرا

                           وعاكاس الخمر يرندح هديلوا

وببارات الرقص عملت عُمرا

                            وحجيت عا صدر وللْع فتيلوا

وعاخدود الورد سكبت الخمرا

                        وسكرت عاريحة العطر وجميلوا

وتركتوا شعوب ولْعاني بجمره

                             عن  الطرقات  يلملم   قتيلوا

وأطفال الموت غامرها غمرا

                            ما عاد  في أم حتى تحديلوا 

ونسيتوا قضيه أنقى من الدره

                     شعب فلسطين والأقصى وخليلوا

وتهجير أهلها من جوا لبرا

                         ودِما متل النهر بالأرض يسيلوا

ولبنان من حاضنة العرب تعرا

                          وعلى سوريه  تأمر مع  زميلوا

لأقلام الأدب بالمال شره 

                            بحقارة  نفس  للبطل. يميلوا

 مافي زعيم كلمة حق قرا

                   تلات وخمسين دوله اجتمعوا حتى

صاروخنا بالجليل يسمعوا صهيلوا 

............          .............

بقلمي... يوشع علي إسماعيل أديب وشاعر عامي

.. Crazy people and our lives.. Written by.. Muhammad Abu Al-Hassan aالمجانين وحياتنا.. بقلم.. محمد ابو الحسن

((Crazy people and our lives)) ******** The crazy people we have are famous people, and here is the testament to Abu Guerdane, who was willing and has a good dream. He is in the depths of winter, Harran. I mean, people are voting in Amshir, and he is crazy about fire. He walks on nails and breathes like smoke, and people are around him. You fly away, afraid of him. You say, “Tarzan, and that the rabbit is a hat with a brisket egg on it, or a pomegranate, and that meat is now worth a pound, and no one in our country is hungry, and the poor, we tell him, ‘Oh father,’ and he travels to Sharm and Aswan until our pound. The name of God is upon him. He rules the world like in the past, and their dollar here is a burn to the hearts of the Americans, and the sanctity, the sons of God, are as deluded as women, and the rulers fight in Gaza and Freemasonry in Khabarkan This freedom is beautiful and delicious, and the people are dancing happily. It seems that he was not sleeping, covered or having dinner, and he fell asleep upset. Run quickly, Abdel Muti, improve the valley so that it is tired before it strikes our aorta, or we go crazy, too. Muhammad Abu Al-Hassan 

((المجانين    و حياتنا))

         ********

إلمجانين عندنا  مشاهير  

وهنا      العُهدة      على     

           ابوقِردان

اللي  اتمطَّع  وحِلِم  خير      

إنهُ  في عِز  الشِتا حرَّان

يعني الناس  تصْوِي  في   

              أمشير 

ودا  ياعنية    مولع   نار  

وانه      بيمشي      على     

المسامير        وبيتنفس

          م الشَكمان

وان     الناس     حواليه   

بتطيرخايفين منه تقول       

            طرزان

وان  الأرنب  كاك وعليه   

بيضة برِيشت ولا الرُّمان

             

وان اللحمة  بقت بجنيه

ومحدش في بلدناجعان 

والغلبان بنقول  له يابيه

ويسافر   شرم   وأسوان

حتى  جنيهنا  إسم  الله

              عليه

حَكَم   العالَم   زي  زمان

ودولارهم هنا دُسناعليه  

حَرقة  لقلب   الأمريكان    

والحرمية     ولاد   الإيه

لموهم    زي     النسوان

والحكام   بيحاربوا  في    

                غزة 

والماسونية في خبركان

دي الحرية جميلة  ولَذة 

والشعب بيرقص فرحان

شكله     ماكنش     نايم            

              متغطي

أومتعشي   ونام  زعلان

إجري     بسرعة   ياعبد    

            المعطي     

ارقي الواد  ليكون تعبان 

قبل      مايضرب     لينا      

             أوُرطي 

أو نتجنن    احنا    كمان

   

محمد ابوالحسن

.. المجانين وحياتنا.. بقلم.. محمد ابو الحسن.

 ((Cratics and our lives))

         ********

Our crazy people are famous  

And here is the pledge     

           egret bird

He who dares and dreams is better      

It is at the height of winter in Harran

I mean, people vote in   

              Amshir 

This is a fire lover  

And he walks on     

The nails are breathing

          M Al-Shakman

And the people around him   

Are you afraid of him, she says       

            Tarzan

And the rabbit is like that   

Bresht egg or pomegranate

             

And the meat became a pound

And no one in our country is hungry 

And we say to him, father

He travels to Sharm and Aswan

Until we earned the name of God

              on him

Rule the world like in the past

And their dollar here was trampled on  

Heartburn for Americans    

And the forbidden ones are the sons of God

They are as deluded as women

And the rulers are fighting in    

                Gaza 

And Freemasonry in Khabarkan

This freedom is beautiful and delicious 

And the people are dancing happily

He didn't seem to be sleeping            

              covered

Or have dinner and sleep sad

Run quickly, slave    

            the giver     

Raise the valley to be tired 

Before he hits us      

             Aorta 

Or we go crazy too

((Cratics and our lives))

         ********

Our crazy people are famous  

And here is the pledge     

           egret bird

He who dares and dreams is better      

It is at the height of winter in Harran

I mean, people vote in   

              Amshir 

This is a fire lover  

And he walks on     

The nails are breathing

          M Al-Shakman

And the people around him   

Are you afraid of him, she says       

            Tarzan

And the rabbit is like that   

Bresht egg or pomegranate

             

And the meat became a pound

And no one in our country is hungry 

And we say to him, father

He travels to Sharm and Aswan

Until we earned the name of God

              on him

Rule the world like in the past

And their dollar here was trampled on  

Heartburn for Americans    

And the forbidden ones are the sons of God

They are as deluded as women

And the rulers are fighting in    

                Gaza 

And Freemasonry in Khabarkan

This freedom is beautiful and delicious 

And the people are dancing happily

He didn't seem to be sleeping            

              covered

Or have dinner and sleep sad

Run quickly, slave    

            the giver     

Raise the valley to be tired 

Before he hits us      

             Aorta 

Or we go crazy too

   

Muhammad Abu Al-Hassan

   

Muhammad Abu Al-Hassan

((Cratics and our lives))

         ********

Our crazy people are famous  

And here is the pledge     

           egret bird

He who dares and dreams is better      

It is at the height of winter in Harran

I mean, people vote in   

              Amshir 

This is a fire lover  

And he walks on     

The nails are breathing

          M Al-Shakman

And the people around him   

Are you afraid of him, she says       

            Tarzan

And the rabbit is like that   

Bresht egg or pomegranate

             

And the meat became a pound

And no one in our country is hungry 

And we say to him, father

He travels to Sharm and Aswan

Until we earned the name of God

              on him

Rule the world like in the past

And their dollar here was trampled on  

Heartburn for Americans    

And the forbidden ones are the sons of God

They are as deluded as women

And the rulers are fighting in    

                Gaza 

And Freemasonry in Khabarkan

This freedom is beautiful and delicious 

And the people are dancing happily

He didn't seem to be sleeping            

              covered

Or have dinner and sleep sad

Run quickly, slave    

            the giver     

Raise the valley to be tired 

Before he hits us      

             Aorta 

Or we go crazy too

((Cratics and our lives))

         ********

Our crazy people are famous  

And here is the pledge     

           egret bird

He who dares and dreams is better      

It is at the height of winter in Harran

I mean, people vote in   

              Amshir 

This is a fire lover  

And he walks on     

The nails are breathing

          M Al-Shakman

And the people around him   

Are you afraid of him, she says       

            Tarzan

And the rabbit is like that   

Bresht egg or pomegranate

             

And the meat became a pound

And no one in our country is hungry 

And we say to him, father

He travels to Sharm and Aswan

Until we earned the name of God

              on him

Rule the world like in the past

And their dollar here was trampled on  

Heartburn for Americans    

And the forbidden ones are the sons of God

They are as deluded as women

And the rulers are fighting in    

                Gaza 

And Freemasonry in Khabarkan

This freedom is beautiful and delicious 

And the people are dancing happily

He didn't seem to be sleeping            

              Covered

Or have dinner and sleep sad

Run quickly, slave    

            the giver     

Raise the valley to be tired 

Before he hits us      

             Aorta 

Or we go crazy too

   

Muhammad Abu Al-Hassan

   

Muhammad Abu Al-Hassan

.. .. The ruins.. Written by the poet.. Ahmed Mahmoud..

The ruins from. Under the rubble and among the rubble, I found a hand. You are cheerful and hugging a mother who holds a reassuring hand, and a strong hug is yearning. I heard everything. He calls out and says, “The mother died. She died while holding me. She died while redeeming me. She took her life and condemned me. I swear to God and my religion. Your right is written on my forehead. If it is the last day of my life, your right will come back. Oh mother. And I will pray for you in all my prayers. Heaven will be your abode. Oh my mother, oh light of my eyes. Oh conscience of the world, oh patient. And oh our Arab world, oh coward. She is gone.” Where have the morals of knights gone? Where have our brave knights gone? What is happening in Palestine, O rulers of our nation, you who are sleeping, children, women and elderly people of Palestine are calling out for “Mu’tasimah” and you are working and not listening. By God, we complain about you to God, and I am a child and still on the verge of death. “Martyr” is written on my forehead after we return our lands and the rights of our people and our families and restore the victories of Hattin. Victory is yours, my country, and the flag is on all of Palestine as long as we can. Our Women Give Birth Even at the Age of Sixty, written by Ahmed Mahmoud from Diwan Banna. letters 

الأطلال

من.  تحت   الأنقاض

   وبين  الركام

لقيت   ايد.   بتطبطب

وحضن   ام   بيضم

    ايد    بتطمني

وحضن   بالقوي  بيحن

سمعت  الكل.  بينادي

ويقول   ماتت    الأم

ماتت   وهي   حضناني

ماتت    وهي   بتفديني

خدت  من  عمرها  وتديني

احلف   بربي   وديني

حقك  مرسوم  علي  جبيني

لو  اخر   يوم   في   حياتي

حقك   راجع    يا   أمي

وهادعيلك  في  كل  صلاتي

تكون    الجنة    مأواكي

 يا  أمي  يانور  عيني

ويا  ضمير   العالم   يامريض

وياعالمنا   العربي  يا جبان

راحت  فين  اخلاق  الفرسان

راحت  فين  فرسانا  الشجعان

من. اللي  بيحصل  في فلسطين

يا  حكام  أمتنا  يا  نايمين

اطفال  ونساء  وعجايز  فلسطين

         بينادوا   وامعتصماه

وانتوا   عاملين   مش  سامعين

والله    لنشكيكم    لله

وانا   طفل   ولسه   في   اللفة

    مكتوب  علي  جبيني شهيد

بعد   ما   نرجع   أراضينا

وحق   ناسنا   واهالينا

ونعيد   انتصارات   حطين

والنصر    ليكي   يابلادي

والعلم   علي  كل  فلسطين

طول   ما  نسائنا   ولادة

حتي  في  عمر  الستين

بقلم

احمد  محمود

من ديوان  بنا. حروف

.. Who inherits the land.. Written by.. Nashat Sarhan Al-Hosary .. من يرث الارض.. ياعروبه اين انت؟! بقلم.. نشأت سرحان الحصري

Who will inherit the earth, O free people, how long will the wait be? Light the candles for the world that wants us to live in darkness. Light them so that they can see, for the light is ours. And martyrdom is ours. Light it so that blind hearts can see the killing and destruction. Light it with the lamp of the blessed tree to expel the miserable demons thirsty for oppression and blood. Light it so that they know that what they did to defenseless innocents is not a victory or two victories. Peace be upon the people of peace, wherever they are. Light it so that they know that the oppressor’s days of survival are numbered. He will not inherit. Earth and let everyone know He is heedless and arrogant that the land belongs to its owners, and My righteous servants inherit it. Poet Nashat Sarhan Al-Husary 

من يرث الأرض

أيُها الأحرار 

إلي متي الأنتظار

أوقِدُوا الشموع للعالمْ 

الذي يُريدُ لنا العيش في الظلامِ

أوقِدُوه لكي يروا  هم 

فالنورُ لنا . والشَّهادةُ لنا

أوقِدُوه لتُبصر القلوبْ العمياء 

لتري القتل والدمار 

أوقِدُوه بسراجِ الشجرة المباركة 

ليطرد الشياطين البائسه  

المتعطشة للبطش والدماء

أوقِدُوه لكي يعلموا

أنَّ مافعَلوه في العُزل الأبْرياء 

ليس نَصْراً أو أنتصارا

السلام لأهل السلام 

أينْ هُم

أوقِدُوه لكي يَعلمُوا

أنَّ الظالمَ أيَامهُ مَعْدُودة في البقاءِ 

لنْ يرث أرضاً

وليعلم كل غَافلِ مستعلا 

أَنَّ الأرْضَ لأصحابها 

يَرِثُهَا عِبَادِيَ الصَّالِحُون .

✍️ الشاعر 

نشأت سرحان الحصري

God created the collection of dew drops, if they were able, to run rivers and seas like lofty mountains, streams in which hail and drops gather into lakes, rivers, and springs from the sky that are led by the command of their Lord to travel for thousands of years to the land that God has blessed and intended for it to live, and you build and block and spread corruption in the land. You will not be left to tamper with frivolous hands. You are not alone, and everything on the earth, if it is with you, then I am against you. Water will flow as it flows. This is God’s creation. Poet Nashat Sarhan Al-Husary 

خلق الله

جَّمْع قطرات الندي 

إنْ إستَّطعتْ 

 لِتَجْرِيَ أنهاراً وأبحَارا

 كالجبال الشامخاتْ 

بين ثناياها الجَدَاول 

يتجمع فيها  البَرَد والقطراتْ

إلي بحيراتِ وأنهارا 

وعيونًا من السماء ِ 

تُساق بأمرِ ربها

لها المسير من آلاف ِالسنين 

إلي الأرضِ التي باركها الله 

وأراد لها الحياة  

وأنت تبني وتسـدْ 

وتسعـي في الأرض ِ فسادا

 لن تُترك الأيادي العابثة تعبث

لَسْتَ وحدَك

وكل ما علي الأرضِ أنْ كانَّ معك

فأنا ضدك 

سيجري الماء كما يجري

هذا خلق الله .

✍️ الشاعر

نشأت سرحان الحصري

O Arab woman, where are you? You have never seen a war like this. All the scenes you see are the annihilation of all aspects of life, and nothing is done. I have never found silence like this silence. In a world of silence, when will you speak out and take action? When will you confront and raise the slogan: No, if you cannot confront now, then when will the fire that ignited the hearts of the peoples be extinguished, which, even if it remains, will burn every silent person who has seen it with his own eyes. And extend a helping hand to them. What do we say to these people? Do something. What do we say to the affliction with which the nation has been afflicted. Instead of uniting, pride, arrogance, and discord have taken them. Unite, take the covenants and covenants. Bind your hands with iron and copper so that they do not become divided. I call, I call, I call on you to support me. My father has given up on support. I call on you. It is not my fault that I am in this state. The land is my land, protect my land, and you, the utmost honor of Arabism, O Arabism, where are you? Poet Nashat Sarhan Al-Husary 

ياعروبة أين  أنتِ 

ماوجدت حرباً 

مثل هذه الحرب

كل المشاهد تشاهد 

من إبادة لكل مظاهر الحياة

 ولايحرك ساكنا . ماوجدت صمتاً

مثل هذا الصمت . في عالم الصمت

متي تنطقوا تتحركوا

متي تتصدوا وترفعوا شعار لا

إن لم تسطيعوا التصدي الآن 

فمتي

فمتي تنطفئ النار 

التي أشعلت قلوب الشعوب

التي وإن ظلت ستحرق كل صامت 

رآه رآي العين . ومد يدا العون لهم 

ماذا نقول لهؤلاء 

أفعلوا شئ

ماذا نقول للأبتلاء

الذي اُبْتُلِيت به الأمة 

بدل أن يتوحدوا 

أخذتهم العزة والكبر والخلاف 

لاخلاف توحدوا

خذوا المواثيق والعهود

أربطوا أياديكم بحديد ونحاس

حتي لاتتفرقوا

أنادي أنادي

أنادي عليك لنصرتي فالبي

فقد يئست الندا

أنادي عليك ليس ذنبي

أنني علي هذه الأرض أرضي

أحمي أرضي وأنت يا أقصي 

شرف العروبة 

ياعروبة أين أنتِ.

✍️ الشاعر

نشأت سرحان الحصري

.. Part of my country.. Written by.. Qasim Al-Khalidi.. جزء من وطني.. بقلم.. قاسم الخالدي.

A part of my country. I love her. I adore her. She is my soul and my groans. She is my arterial spring and my goals. I see death tearing her apart with all my hours and her children fleeing in all my directions. And I do not sweat the Arabs’ brow for my suffering. I was torn when I saw the infidels in my country and the fire burning my branches and my heroism. I am proud and proud. I do not lose sight of my woes. Our martyrs. Glory to our present. Let history write down all my statements. I am an Arab and my country is my loyalty. I reviewed every letter in it for my lady and approved all my letters and calculations. What angers you and the fire burns us? Where is my conscience and my leadership? We are dying silently and my stories are being told about us. Where are those who brag about ruling and say we are for the homelands? My gentlemen, Qasim Al-Khalidi. 

جزء من وطني

احبها اعشقها هي روحي واهاتي

هي نبع شرياني وغاياتي

ارى الموت يمزقهابكل ساعاتي

ويهرب اطفالها بكل اتجاهاتي

ولاعرق جبين العرب لمعاناتي

تمزقت حين رأيت الكفار في وطني

والنار تحرق اغصاني

وبطولاتي

انا الابية الشامخه ولااضعن لويلاتي

شهدائنا مجد لحاضرنا

وليدون التاريخ كل افاداتي

فاانا عربية ولوطني موالاتي

راجعت كل حرف بها لمولاتي

وصادقت على كل حروفي وحساباتي

ماغاضكم والنار تحرقنا اين الضمير والقياداتي

اصبحنا نموت بصمت وتروى عنا الحكاياتي

اين الذين يتبجحون بالحكم

ويقولون انا للاوطان ساداتي

قاسم الخالدي

.. Where is the conscience.. Written by.. Al-Zahra Al-Anaq.. اين الضمير.. بقلم.. الزهره العناق..

... Where is the conscience.... I will tell the beloved Muhammad to oppress the human soul, kill it, and burn it with all arrogance in front of the eyes of all Arabs. I am the child, the mother, the father, the young, and the old. I am the teacher, the engineer, the farmer, and the doctor. Where is the conscience, and where is the neighbor’s shame on me? The neighbor, I am the victim. I have become a stranger in my homeland. I am the victim and the martyr, O nation of Muhammad. I ask God to protect us from the evil of the beautiful in appearance and the evil of what is unseen. My ending is musk and amber, and I am proud, but I am saddened by the state of the wounded, the damaged, and the depressed. I am the Palestinian. I have been deprived of my rights in front of millions. I am besieged and deprived of... Roaming and perhaps oxygen will become a demand. I will never forget my dark days. Bombing urges and I will never forget who contributed to this war. Where is human justice and the protection of children’s rights? Or is it just ink on paper and a lie? We understood the lesson that there is no life for the weak and survival of the strongest in a time of plunder. I will not cry. I will not mourn the loss of a martyr. Rather, I will underline in red the violence, marginalization, and plunder. There is no life with the enemies of truth. I will write it in all languages ​​so that foreigners can understand it. Where is the upbringing and learning, and where are the Islamic values? Or is there no room to talk because it is something that tears the heart? I will tell the beloved about the spread of mediocrity, the oppression of the poor, and the pursuit of stardom on the banks of the valleys of deception and lies. Alas, for those who are alive but dead in feelings and conscience, in what face the beloved will face him, and what he will say to the Lord, the flower of the embrace.  

🕊️ ...    أين الضمير    ....🕊️

سأخبر الحبيب محمد بقهر النفس البشرية

و قتلها و حرقها بكل غطرسة أمام عيون كل العرب

أنا الطفل و الأم و الأب و الصغير و الشيخ

أنا المعلم و المهندس و الفلاح و الطبيب

 

أين الضمير و أين عار الجار على الجار

أنا المتضرر أصبحت  في و طني  غريب

أنا الضحية و الشهيد يا أمة محمد 

أطلب الله يكفينا شر لطفاء المظهر و شر ما في الغيب  

خاتمتي مسك و  عنبر و أفتخر 

لكن  يحزنني حال الجريح و المعطوب و المكئتب 

أنا الفلسطيني حرمت من حقوقي أمام الملايين

محاصر محروم من التجوال وربما الأوكسجين سيصبح  تحث الطلب

لن أنسى أيامي السوداء  تحث القصف

و لن أنسى من ساهم في هذه الحرب 

أين العدالة الإنسانية و حماية حقوق الطفل

أم  فقط كلام حبر على ورق  و كذب 

فهمنا الدرس أن لا حياة للضعيف

و البقاء للأقوى في زمن  النهب 

لن أبكي و لن أحزن على فقدان شهيد

بل سأسطر بالأحمر  على العنف و التهميش و السلب

لا حياة مع  أعداء الحق 

سأكتبها بكل اللغات حتى يفهمها الأجانب

أين التربية و التعليم و أين القيم الإسلامية ؟

أم لا مجال للكلام لأنه شيء يدمي القلب

سأخبر الحبيب عن تفشي الرداءة و قهر المساكين

و السعي للنجومية على ضفاف أودية الخداع و الكذب 

واحسرتاه على من هو حي لكن ميت المشاعر و الضمير

بأي وجه سيواجه الحبيب و ماذا سيقول للرب 

✍️الزهرة العناق ⚡

.. How much goodness have I left behind.. Written by.. Naima Barqawi .. كم تركت من خير.. بقلم.. نعيمه برقاوي

How much good have you left behind? Written by Naima Barqawi. The idea pulls you from the details of your day and nests inside you many, many stories with colors that are familiar sometimes and strange at other times. Imaginations take flight and land you in places here and there... You think about a year that will pass... A year that takes its last breath. ...And its colors fade from time to time... What painting did you keep for this number of days that escaped the fabric of life? ... What did this time leave inside you? What did it give you and what did you give from your provision to make ends meet? And you remove a stain from someone's soul... How much good you have left behind by which you have erased evil, and how many good deeds you have recorded in your book by which you have deleted bad... How much we need a spiritual ointment of magic with which to remove the wrinkles of time and relax from all this fatigue and this weakness... She is Words are an antidote to the decay called forgetfulness... 

🌿كم تركت من خير 🌿

بقلم نعيمة برقاوي 🇹🇳

تسحبك الفكرة من تفاصيل يومك 

وتعشش بداخلك حكايات كثيرة 

كثيرة ذات ألوان مألوفة أحيانا

 وغريبة أحيانا أخرى 

تحلق بك الخيالات وتحط 

بك في ربوع من هنا وهناك ...

تفكّر في عام سيمضي....

حولٌ يلفظ أنفاسه الأخيرة. ... 

وألوانه تبهت حينا بعد حين...

ما اللّوحة التي أبقيتها 

لهذا الكم من الأيّام التي تفلتت 

من نسيج العمر؟ ...

ماذا ترك بداخلك هذا الزّمن ..

ماذا أعطاك ومالذي

 منحت من زادك لتسدّ رمقا .

وتزيل سغبا بروح أحدهم .. 

كم تركت من خير به محوت شرّا 

وكم سجّلت بكتابك 

من حسنة حذفت بها سيئات ...

 كم في حاجة نحن إلى 

مرهم  روحيّ من السّحر  به 

نزيل تجاعيد الزّمن 

و نسترخي من كلّ هذا التّعب

 وهذا الوهن ....

هي الكلمات ترياق لذوفان اسمه النّسيان ...

.. A blackbird and a bird.. With a pen. Dr.. Nawal Ali Hammoud.. شحروره ودلبه بقلم. د. نوال علي حمود

Blackbird and Dalba Dr. Nawal Hammoud is a girl who is still waiting on the road... Maybe her lover will come back and the sound of the heart will be louder... I wonder if he remembers...? And do they think about the branches of the plane tree?!! In the summer, he sings about its flowers, and in the winter, he tells me about the splendor of the house furnished with its woods... And here is the blackbird, rolling in, with eyes on us, drawing a smile on our faces, throwing away luck, and its yellow beak, radiating and melody; We write in the colors of a lifetime... The melody can blossom after barrenness, renew the songs of every girl and young man, and return after nostalgia for my fertile country. Rings of joy will be held, and everyone will hear our drumming, and the breeze of my country will sing and echo the melody with love. Ishtar Syria, written by Dr. Nawal Ali Hammoud 

🌠شحرورة ودلبة 

        د. نوال حمود 

صبية بعدها ناطرة 

ع الدرب ...

يمكن يرجع حبيبها 

ويعلا صوت 

القلب ..

ياترى بيتذكر ...؟

وبعدو ببالو أغصان 

شجرة الدلب؟!!

بالصيف يتغنى بزهراتها

وبالشتا يحكيلي 

عن روعة البيت 

المفروش بخشباتها ...

وهاك الشحرورة 

اتدرغل وعيونا علينا 

ترسم ع وجهنا 

بسمة وترمي

 اللحظ 

ومنقارها الأصفر 

اشعاع ولحن ؛

نكتب بألوانوا مواويل

للعمر ...

يمكن يزهر اللحن 

بعد الجدب 

ويجدد الغناني لكل 

صبية وشب 

ويعود بعد الحنين 

لبلادي الخصب 

تنعقد للفرح حلقات 

ويسمع دبكتنا 

الكل، ويغني 

نسيم بلادي

ويردد صدى اللحن 

بحب .

عشتااار سوريااا 

بقلمي د / نوال علي حمود