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The new world

Por: Sabri Rahmouni

White poem

 

I have a white poem
for a dark day I do keep it
The day I will be carried on shoulders
Not as an Olympic champion
Or a communist activist
as a residue of a gray donkey will I be carried, though
Bitten by hyenas in a wild thicket
Carried on shoulders to my last hole
And behind me
A sour anthem echoes:
Oh my sinking moon
high beyond the roof is your place
Not here under the earth

 

 

Oblivion

 

Good evening Mr. Frederick Nietzsche
I have other way to heal with words
I spend the night with the word "oblivion"
Write it on a white sheet
and I hold it violently
As if I was wiring a positive wire
and a negative one with a generator
of 3000 volts,
I am burning with frost,
and In front of me pass the sorrows and joys
Lyrics
Laughs and stabs
Passes a corrupt love
a barmy man wears my clothes passes too
I coalesce slowly
and fading away
 

In the morning,
The first dawn breeze
blows throw my window
It tries to Remove the ash quilt
So I go back and reform my body
As if a team of trained
archaeologists
Removes dust
from a lost statue
of Hammurabi

 

 

Rabbit on the table

 

Try to not go with "nobody"
to "nowhere"
and fluently, tell him "nothing”
try taste the pleasure of a
hidden in a hole

do not befriend writers
and never desert them
stay by them as a far light in a wild desert
and be careful
do not tell them If there is a far temple 
for sheltering refugees
or those bandits with choppers
Come closer if they go far
and never forget
never
that you are a wild rabbit in a hole
and all those around you 
think that you are 
on a table

 

 

The new world

 

I walk around carrying a knife in my coat
Because this world has become terrible
And on TV they warn us against each other
Now no one is safe
I roam the street and turn left and right
Like a bewildered deer in the hyenas valley
Because a mysterious person follows me everywhere
and His suspicious looks surround me
Black clouds also surround a small goat lost in the wild
Yesterday He gave me a drink and He gasped and stretched out his hand to shake hands
I pushed him with all my strength and ran away
At the end of the street I found people who were panting
The handles and knives are looking out of their pockets
Like snakes' heads at the burrows holes
We panted together for two seconds 
then I greeted them
They fled running, creating chaos
Like a fox in a chicken coop!

 

 

The history of poetry


I did not find poetry...
but Poems found me
when I was a child
when I was sitting behind a wall in the old quarter
Peeking on a homeless dog 
indisposed by a puppy
From that day I walk behind him
in my dreams and in my wake
From a place to another
just for one purpose
to console him

 

 

The poet


so far
without money
and without roots 
in the soil

I did not wear a ring
I did not sit on a dais
I did not cry lately in the long nights
and let my tears fall on a picture
The nostalgic coals did not sting my skin
I did not cry for a land 
nor for people

So far
as a startled gazelle I run from station to another 
And behind me:
Since the target is so fast
It will be difficult for us to snipe him.

 

 

Woe


I am akin to the bird of canary
It endowed me its fragility
Its High fertility
And excessive tenderness.

Biologically I am a rare king
But the time of kings is over
and replaced with despotic mob.
That is why my whole life is summed up
in the moment
of testing the feeling of the sons of Nikolai II
And Louis XVI
The moment of the refraction of the crown
And the vanishing of the throne.

Despite my woes
And excessive tenderness
my cognates
Of birds and poets
look at me with the looks of hatred and spite
Just because I have 
A rare 
and a peerless
voice...

*

Sabri Rahmouni, Tunisian poet, born in 1981.  Graduated in intrenational economics. Professor of Cultural Animation at the Ministry of Cultural Affairs,  Ex-programmer at the house of Tunisian poetry,  Founder of the Arab Poetry Festival in Tunisia,  President of the League of Young Tunisian Writers,  He participated in many festivals of poetry in Saudi Arabia and Morocco. He has two collections published, hs poems translated into French, English and Amazigh.

Published on 23.07.2019

Última actualización: 24/01/2020