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Mourad Mchiri
Pertenece a la Directiva
The Lizard Knows

Meaninglessness, pointlessness, nothingness, worthlessness,
idelness, void, emptiness, frivolousness, hollowness, ineffectiveness....
Life can be so brutal,
when you stand like a palm tree in a dead desert.
Where do its roots stem from?
How far do they go deep in the slippery sand?
and what do they feed upon?
Hardly could the lizard understand the laws of hunting
and the ethics of treating its prey.
Gazing at the stars which were shimmering
like ablaze tattoos on the nudity of the night,
the lizard,
hemmed as if addressing a wizard:
''Existense can be so cruel.''

mourad mCHEri

Ode to the Blossoming Cactus...

This winter is clored in red
with the streets of forgotten cities swamped in blood.
The yells of those who climb the ladders to meet their eternity
grinning to the immortal stars,
fill the air and thicken the clouds.
We must sacrifice a today at the door of our dreams
for a tomorrow, for tomorrows,
for a year, for years,
for ages to begin where the night ends.
The sun will also rise on the cemeteries,
the wild cactus will also blossom by the forsaken graves
and the immobile flags on the dead masts
will not let this newly blown breeze of freedom pass them by.
Above the sky,
stretches a country from coast to coast
and from vein to vein,
among flying wings and jubilating songs.
I came, like you my fellows,
through the troubled waters of my being
and the ambushes filling the night
to wake up to my consciousness:
Red is the color that better defines us.
The catch is big and everybody has a share...
Eat to your fill
and leave nothing to the teeth of the wind except a rotten bone.
I came flying,
over my exile expecting the fullness of the moon
to rehearse the carnaval choreography
before the break of dawn
on the bleeding walls of the town.
From the outskirts of my cold and blue-colored amnesia,
between the giddiness of my dreams and the smell of filthy bread
and between my coma and the hands of euthanasia,
I tell the world:
My country, your name is bravery...
Bravery, your name is:

mourad mCHEri

As If It Rains

As if it is the rain,
when your words fall on my hearing
and when your breath covers my face.
Grass gets greener in the gardens i have raised for you
in my eyes,
and roses blossom in the virgin fields i saved for you
on my lips.
As if it is the rain,
when i imprison your fingers inside mine
and hold your hands to my cheeks
for fear it is a dream.
My dear,
it is the last day of the year.
As if it was the wind howling and barking in the valleys
when you were away,
but today,
the moon, the sun and the dispersed stars gather in rallies
to bless our tomorrow with the rain.
Smile and dance around my sleep
like a jubilating wave in the Deep,
as if it is the rain...

mourad mCHEri

Mourad Mchiri

Imy visit to the house of Neruda in Isla Negra was one of the dreams of my life. I just cannot find the right words to describe the first sensation while stepping inside, the spectacular view over the Pacific and the treasures that filled all the corners of the house. My passion for poetry started years ago when i was pursuing my studies in Tunis and the more i read the more i wrote. Till now, i have a good collection of about 200 poems, some of them are published on the net in diffrent websites. Pablo Neruda ranks high in the list of my best poets for all times. I have learned a lot from his sТyle and imagery. I hope this group allows me to further improve my skills and get widely read at the international level.



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