Poems by Sehma Hela

Poems by Sehma Hela
 
 
A refrain of time
 
Time and again, Time and again
Time to dive , time to fly without a wing
Time to thrive , time to swirl in on a cloudy spring
Time to see your spell on me ,
Time to flee the ache of a heart .
Time to nod and draw a smile
Time to probe a day and a mile
Time to dream and hope again
Time to speak with a diverged road and count your leaves from one to ten.
Time to ask the stream of yours , time to sigh and ask the years
Time to retrieve and shut the doors.
Time to consider , time to dwell
Time to stab a bloody farewell
Time and again I take the road ,to flee a flunked story
Time and again I grin to my unborn child and say sorry
Time to ask that remote hill
Which face of mee you wanted to kill ?
Which face mee, has fed your will ?
Time to look at the lofty moon , Time to bathe in a sunny noon
Time to drink and quench my thirst , time to know who ranked first ?
Time to know that birds lie , time to live and refuse to die
Time and again time and again
Time to run and dream above
Time to shun the beam of love
Time to grieve for more bliss , time to listen to a faint hiss , time and again time and again
You know my story with fate and grab that straw in case it is too late.
 
( stata , Aghadir 2O16)
 
 
 
The song of the lost seasons
 
Knock at your icy heart
And do not shot the door.
Let me ride the sledge of fire to take me to the shore.
You said summertime is here ,
You said the leaves were no longer green ,
You snatched that summer dear ,
and made autumn clean
Knock at your icy heart ,
The ice may never thaw
Befriend that sparkling star and do not make of me your foe.
Winter came late, dragging its fury tail
Singing with the clouds,
You do not like winter time , you rushed to the wood
I sagged to my fate , am no longer that toddler to wail
You do not like winter time and you made of my spring crusty food.
You slapped winter with that quivering hand,
You deceived seasons dear, and you danced with the band
Knock at your icy heart and do not shut the door,
Grant me the last dance and come to the swirling floor .
 
Carthage 2017
 
 
 
When a she pet heals a scar
 
She does help when feeling low ,
she does help when you try to raise your bosom ,
and rush to touch the morning dew,
she does help
when you cannot bow .
when that emptiness made of your days a long slain rope ,
she does help and stir hope
a toddler hope ,
that a lofty being sticks to you ,spreads new wishes ,
she does help and murmur in your ear , come close and be near .
she does help when fever keeps dragging you to another scope
she does help and mow when you cry
she does help when you desperately deny
that people feign care
she does help
you know why ?
He to whom you smiled ,
Grinned grinned and fluked care
she does help when feeling low low ,broken like a stained mare.
She does help when to whom you granted hope with your hope never cope.
 
Carthage 2017
 
 
 
A lame book
 
You gave me a book
You never asked me to read .
You gave me book in a barren library
Bewildered I got , no shelf to dust , no reader to feed.
You gave me a book and you took the torch ,
You asked me to sail , your waves I have to weed .
Sir, your book I did not thumb , your torch I did not need.
Swept are the days when a book was a hook,
Gone are the days when I grew a garden from my sole seed.
You gave me a book with a nude page ,
You took my pen and you asked me to write,
Bewildered I got and I lost the fight .
When my hand I laid you grabbed the book you had .
Bewildered I got , I tore the page of my creed .
I tore the page of my creed , because you gave me a lame book
And you never asked me to read.
 
Gammarth 2O17

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