Farouk Jweideh

Mama, oh Mama

What does a sad heart need for an invitation?

How many prayers give me security

My mother is here

A big man of a place

And I knew, my mother, the great people and the sultan

But… I no longer feel like a human being

Mahmoud Darwish

I miss my mother to bake

And my mom’s coffee

Mom’s touch

You grow up in childhood

day upon chest

And I love my life because

if you die,

I’m ashamed of my mother’s tears

Take me, if you ever come back

a scarf for your neck

And cover my bones with grass

Purify your heels

Tighten me up

with a lock of hair

With a thread waving at the tail of your dress

I will become a god

I become god

If it touched the bottom of your heart

Put me down, if you come back

Fuel for your fire

And a clothesline on your rooftop

‘Cause I lost my standing

Without your day prayer

Hermt, Childhood Star Singles

until I share

little birds

back path

live waiting for you

Abo Ghasim Alshabi

The mother kisses her child and hugs him

Sanctuary, Heavenly Beauty, Holy

Sanctuary, Heavenly Beauty, Holy

Sanctuary, Heavenly Beauty, Holy

Sanctuary, Heavenly Beauty, Holy

Thoughts are deified, and they are next to him

There the souls will return pure

There the souls will return pure

There the souls will return pure

There the souls will return pure

Forbid life with its purity and tenderness

Is there a more sacred and sacred sanctuary above it?

Is there a more sacred and sacred sanctuary above it?

Is there a more sacred and sacred sanctuary above it?

Is there a more sacred and sacred sanctuary above it?

Blessed are you, campus of motherhood and youth

How much life is complete and sanctified in you?

How much life is complete and sanctified in you?

How much life is complete and sanctified in you?

How much life is complete and sanctified in you?

Five letters to my mom

good morning sweetie

Good morning my sweet saint

It’s been two years, mom

On the boy who sailed

on his fairy tale

and stashed in his bags

green morning

And her stars, her rivers, and her whole red brother

and hid in his clothes

Tarabina of mint and thyme

And a Damascene night

I’m alone

smoke my cigarette bored

And my seat is bored

And my sorrows are birds

Looking for a threshing floor?

I know the women of Europe

I knew the emotions of cement and wood

I knew the civilization of fatigue

I floated India, floated the bond, floated the yellow world

I did not find

On a woman combing my blond hair

She carries in her purse

to the sugar brides

And clothe me if I’m naked

And pick me up if I stumble

hey mom

hey mom

I am the boy who sails

I still remember him

Long live the sugar bride

How is it, mom?

I became a father

Wasn’t it bigger?

Good morning from Madrid

What’s the good news?

I recommend it to you, mother

That little girl

She was my father’s sweetheart

He treats her like a child

He invites her to a cup of coffee

and water it

and feed her

and showers her in His mercy,

And my father died

And still living in the dream of his return

She searches for him around his room

She asks about his cloak

She asks about his newspaper

And she asks when summer comes

About Fayrouz his eyes

to scatter over his palms

Dinars of gold

salaats..

salaats..

To the house of our waterers of love and mercy

To your white flowers the joy of Star Square

to my choice

to my books

To the children of our neighborhood

And walls we filled

Chaos from our writing

to lazy cats

sleep on our sunrise

And a vineyard

On our neighbor’s window

It’s been two years, mom

the face of Damascus,

A bird is scribbling in our wings

Bites on our curtains

and click us

Gently from our fingers

It’s been two years, mom

And the night of Damascus

damascus philately

The role of Damascus

You live in our hearts

Its minarets light up our boats

Like the minarets of the Umayyad

It has been planted in us

like apple nurseries

In our consciences

like light and stones

They all came with us

September has come, Mama

Sadness came to bring me gifts

left at my window

His admonition and his complaint

September has come, where is Damascus?

Where are my father and his eyes?

Where is the silk of his gaze?

Where is the aroma of his coffee?

Rahman watered his resting place

Where is the spaciousness of our big house?

And where are we blind?

And where are the shamsheer runways?

laughing in the corners

And where is my childhood?

pucker his cat’s tail

and eat from his arbor

And plucked from his nose

Damascus, Damascus

oh poetry

On the pupils of our eyes we wrote it

Oh beautiful child

From his braids we crucified

On his knees

And we melted in his love

Until in our love we killed him

The most beautiful poems about mother