Riad Al-Mamouri

Flowers or Something like a Dream

By Riadh al-Mamouri

The awaited lady-

The one imagined sometimes,

So delicious,

Elegantly laying dinner 

Like a new gallery,

Like a watch, so punctually elegant.

Children

As she sees them growing up, 

The make up and bracelets

The wedding dress as going behind

The decorated parties,

A red dress or the wedding dress again,

And her special face.

I… am!

The one falling apart out of her,

I ….am

Coffee and time for growing up

Swimming and travelling,

I… am

A Source of knowledge,

I … am

Imagination

And non-imagination,

I… am

Elegant and lone, I am…

Markets .. tea..

Coca Cola..

Heaven.. and

Drawing near,

Children passing away 

let them play, darling

Like a pile of flying paper.

Translated into English 

By Hussein Nasser Jabr

Riad Al-Mamouri

Born in Iraq in 1974

A member of the Union of Iraqi Writers

A member of the Teachers’ Union of Iraq

Head of the Iraqi Reading club

His Poetry collections: Holocene, Absence Words, Pants Edge, Twenty Prose Poems, Doctor Gypsy Stories, Anthropological Studies

Women 

By Wahidah Hussein 

My mother reads all my papers 

Even though she does not know how to write. 

My sister sums for me 

The homes of the hereafter 

And the streets encroach on 

her pillow 

So my girlfriend 

The mirrors did not blush 

From her eyes 

As she relates her vision 

For women made of clay. 

And my friend closest to my myth 

Weights nine months 

Until the core of reality 

And my companion 

Eats most of my stars 

And remains blind 

A few lost women 

Do not worry about the distance 

They sprinkle it with ceiling 

My aunts are still 

3 

freezing my candles 

With butterflies , despite 

The melting of age. 

I had 

A lofty aunt 

For the stairs of love 

Not exempting her from it 

Except the love of her brother 

My grandmother 

used to feign masculinity 

From the fluidity of her heart!!

Translated by Riyadh Abdulwahid

Wahida Hussein poet from Iraq, doctorate in the psychology of creativity / psychology of the poet

Her work: Hymns to the daughter of the wind, in the no-consciousness of a palm tree, In the memory of mirrors, on the roof, and In a motherhood poem

The Earring of Sleepiness

by Abd al Hussain Breesum

To my mother 

In our old house’s yard

a palm tree stands next to the sidr tree

both raise their hands and pray for my mother

and the wall is bending

when my mother wakes the sun

the sidr tree and the palm tree 

step aside

and you shine to wake the morning

which got learned by your fingers that are tattooed 

with nostalgia and the Sumerian sun

and you

bake the virgin wheat

the smell of your hands filled me 

before even the smell of the bread

you ignite poetry in the notebook of my heart

the space of my city never been enough to accommodate it 

Therefore, I was seduced by the distant cities

I left you at the fence of the old house

Waiting

Do you know, mom?

I am waiting for you

The birds of the South pass by you

and they don’t bring you my letter 

How hard my heart is! 

and how generous the mothers are!

you walk the street of the city in tired steps

the trees prostrate and the birds perch

they extend their wings and pray for you with a chirp of faith

to pass the cloud of goodness

proceeded by the scent of the reeds and sedge 

and the shrines of the imams

How do I write a poem for you?

and you are the poetry, God made you!

the most beautiful poem walking on the ground

and a cane of tiredness

Why wasn’t me? To be the cane of struggle 

How hard my heart is

these clouds will rain poems

the ones I did not write 

yet they passed through my fingers

which I carried from the scent of your perfume

and your hand that passed over my forehead,

and sets my imagination

Translated by Enhaa Elias

………………

An Iraqi poet and journalist, born in 1966 in the Iraqi city of Maysan

He has eleven books on poetry and essay writing. He works as chief editor at the Iraqi Media Network.

Edited by:Faleeha Hassan