Winter

Winter prose poem

Photo by Vincent_AF

Here are stoves uttering trilling cries of joy,
their tongues orange, their clothes henna.
Here are chumps hissing، lulling, bowing and crying with hot tears;
We’ve got a newborn, his hair made of winds and tempests,
his hat a cloud, his eyes two brooks, his eyebrows two rainbows,
and his face covered with sweat drops of ancient gods.

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Fareed K. Ghanem

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I am 58 years old, from eastern Galilee, Israel (Palestine). I studied English literature, psychology and Law at the Hebrew university (Jerusalem). In the last three years, I published three books of which is dedicated to prose poetry. You are invited to visit the Facebook page Shadows of Water, where I publish my prose poems I translate to English.
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