Poems by Ahmad Alkhatat

ahmad

Poems by Ahmad Alkhatat
 
 
 
Promises Of Peace…
 
Once I wore my military helmet
I knew the world will give away
All the promises of peace intentionally.
 
The houses in neighborhood
They became homes for ghosts
Blackness from inside and outside.
 
I even wanted to do a drop of rain,
To the farmer who plants a few seeds
Not a tear on a cheek of a widowed.
 
The first time I wrote a line against Isis
I burnt all the maps of the history pages,
So no terrorist finds their way to kill more.
 
I lost my childhood memories from the
First time I saw my best friend smoking
Cigarettes from the pack of his dead father.
 
I smiled for the first time after drinking
The alcohol that the enemies banned
From us to drink and enjoy the life differently.
 
The orphan inside of my little fantasies,
He failed to release the butterflies free,
He wept died from breaking the dove wings.
 
Isis sexually abuse to many young women,
While some in exile lose their virginity as if
Nothing valuable was lost to wolf double face.
 
The white flags were the enemies lies to
The homeless man who is seeking pennies
To feed his family to priceless cans of pet food.
 
The bombs made the wounds soldiers joys
Instead of blind bullets that hit the flesh and
Recall sweet memories like a knife on a neck.
 
Promises of peace were writing and hidden,
Once I saw the man with David star and the
Girl with Jesus cross I knew we are in civil war.
 
They say peace and I respond I will think about it
They say love and I respectfully I will hate you
They say live and I say no but death it’s worth it.
 
28/02/2017
 
 
 
I Had a Dream…
 
On the first of month
I had a dream about
A new direction that
I should follow nowadays.
 
I was sitting with two
Beautiful women and
My words weren’t well
And I was more hopeless.
 
My friend came over with
He talks with a confidant
So about his future plans
He inspired those women.
 
He walked into their room
Undressing and unwrapping
He was the king of erotic
And I was a broken mirror.
 
My eyes were witnessing
My mind was realistic too
Realizing that he was not
A friend and it was my spirit.
 
I laughed once I woke up
With tears of happiness to
Realize that it is the time to
Change and end my miseries.
 
I start writing in a new agenda,
About myself as if I just woke up
From a dull and dusty dreams
That created my life too dark.
 
I will seek for the sunshine and
Sing with the flowers and birds
Thou Lord and to all good friends
And ignore the haters for years.
 
Oh my beloved was that dream
For you to make me smile and
Stop hoping for the impossible
To possible and weep till I sleep.
 
Tonight I will sleep by our songs
And dream about new pages of
My life and seek for more success
And stop playing with foolishness.
 
I had a dream amazing how much
I can recall the scent of this dream
So much joy even I feel the poem
Will be the last to say depressing.
 
1/03/2017
 
 
 
Bleeding Heart Poet
 
Yes, that is 100percent me,
I am bleeding heart poet now,
I bleed with every poem I write
I bleed and mostly cry on my own.
 
The ink can scratch or either die,
Before the cloud squeeze its drops
The leaf could only read and die,
Ahead of flowers bloom in autumn.
 
My writings are full of hopes and
Dreams of spirits who they died and
Wish to somebody would create them
Into real, so they could believe in heaven.
 
Those souls were seen on one mirror
From the laughter face of the sea waves
Hearings their demands its heart breakings
And avoiding them it’s like ignoring the truth.
 
My story with writings arose one night,
When it was dark and raining cats and dogs,
A woman was dancing and singing alone,
I ran downstairs and I couldn’t find her.
 
I started writing about women and love,
I felt as I am dating someone and I wrote about
My feelings and I left upon unknown tomb,
I thought that was her since she was bleeding.
 
My homeland have had kicked me away,
My neighbors said I will wait to marry you,
When she was married to a mindless man,
Who died after drinking of fears of the wars.
 
She waited and waited till she died,
And the love in my writings died as well,
So I had to lock my soul and heart in chains,
And keep writings about memories we had.
 
In exile, my name was nasty and terrorist,
Even my color skin was like the alien color,
Teachers taught me to smile in the daytime,
And in the night I taught myself to cry alone.
 
I started writing and nobody read my work,
I talked to the moon and stars and they told me
To write and write, all the days where I once
Wrote about death and since then we are friends.
 
My fingers were tired of writings those years,
Till I met with a beautiful poetess and support me,
I started seeing the skies in blue from her eyes,
And tasting her lips from the scent of strawberries.
 
I was falling in a love story with zero hopes,
It lasted for a few years until the death betrayed me,
And collected her spirit before we meet face
To face, or hold each other’s hands and kiss.
 
My eyes were dropping tears more and more,
I wanted to find a way to die in a lightless cage,
Like a dove die with broken wings and heart too,
But God wanted the best for her and not to me.
 
Depression became my daily main season,
I smoked lots of packs and drank all bottles,
Nobody cared so friends ignored about why
I weep after every lie I respond I am great.
 
Years and years ago and I am still bleeding,
The joys are guests in my world of freedom,
I breathe and die without asking for favors,
Long poem but that’s my journey with rhymes.
 
I have a faith that one day the doors will
open and the windows will be unlocked to
welcome all the love birds to sing songs
of an another great day to write more.
lies and haters will never stop me anytime,
I will write till my beautiful queen takes me
to her place in the paradise and kiss her to
let her taste the lips of a poet who lived joylessly.
Baghdad you are the city of my fantasies,
women, you are the flesh of my inspirations,
Even nature you are the view of my future,
And my age its the number of days until
You will receive the card to my grave,
Where you will smile and never weep
Because will create my dream to true
which it’s to die with the world sorrows.
 
27_02_2017
 
 
 
Little Dreams
 
My childhood friend
Became a doctor,
He was never able
To heal my wounds.
 
He got married and
Did not remember me,
Ignored little dreams
To across my pains.
 
He is crying for Baghdad,
Sad memories were
Mentioned in darkness,
And never was I.
 
25/02/2017
 

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