April

June 11, 2016 June 21, 2019

April prose poem

Photo by Internet Archive Book Images


I will end up at the sky gates, as a thirsty spike, roving around in valleys, looking for a crippled dream.
I am an almond tree, a stolen joy for a feast of phantoms.
I bend to the mornings’ face, as a snowy voice, and prepare the sacrifices out of my innocent village’s souls.
Thus I turn to be a yellow tree, very coldly whispering at April’s ear.
In April, children fly kites from above roofs, whereas children of my village stretch down as grey corpses,
their blood watering the infidel land.
Oh days, oh echoes, come close, here is a wound as large as the songs of the Galaxy.
I wish I were a deaf rock, at the banks of Euphrates, knowing but the breeze

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Anwer Ghani

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• Anwer Ghani; an Iraqi poet and literary theorist, born in 1973 in Hila city, and he lives in Iraq now and worked in a hospital as consultant physician. He had collections in Arabic in e-book form (Language 1) 2014, (Language 2) 2015, (Language 3) 2016, and many books in poetry criticism in Arabic and in e-book form with unique ideas and post-stylistic criticism .He is the chief editor of a literary magazine (Tajdeed) deals with Arabic prose poems, and he is the chief editor of a literary magazine in English (International prose poem journal). He writes the polyphonic (multi-voices poems), mosaic (mirror language poems), abstract poems and expressional narrative poems. Email: anweralmosewi1@gmail.com Facebook : Anwer Ghani Almosewi
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