|
Dinha T. Gorgis (Linguist, Translator, & Poet)
http://dtgorgis.purpledream.com
Email: gorgis_3@yahoo.co.uk
|
If passions were to be transplanted, I would never hesitate to become a surgeon.
|
Pain And Hope
09/30/07 |
O life! You are the maker
Of man's joys, festivals,
When you seem brighter,
But the abolisher of his glory,
Dreams, hopes and plans,
When you look mightier.
O life! I pray thee
Seek not in wildness
For any creatures' destiny.
Be just ; I know your strength
Looks for the weakest of us.
Let me live, O life!
Let me recall
What in the fifth spring
Was planned for manhood.
Let not your dark be cast over me;
For I am the poorest being in the Being,
With blissful hours left behind,
With mother's and father's kisses
On the rosy face; and thus
Into my prayers was I indulged.
But now you make me tremble ,
Fear even the buzzing bees ;
For your destructive power
Still chases my plans.
But in spite of this:
My pure mind fears you not;
For it casts the heavy burden off:
The black hours of yours.
life! I acknowledge that you even hate
The moving clouds that carry no rain,
And to assure you,
I am now as swift as those clouds
That brotherly look upon your slaves,
Yet, they are masters to your abolishment.
O life! It is high time we left you,
Unless now you change your path
And make us fully see,
The charts of our design future,
And set us free to plan more of our own;
For the light of the mind has things
Which you have never dreamed of.
| | |
 |
Torn Apart Between Hajjaj And Stray Dogs
10/18/07 |
Had you put thy words into deeds,
The road to Jerusalem would've been eased.
Behold Samarkand and Tooledo out there!
Behold the remains of glory at Carthage!
Outcrying: Oh, the offspring of Arabia!
Rather than heal our wounds, you wounded more.
Letters, inarticulate, remain speechless;
And blood the veins turned colourless.
Oh, Iraq! Harmony at Home has been raped;
And Grace at battles deflowered.
All lions, so stunned that the wolves
At the lambs howled and howled.
Say I, my boy: Whereof hath people's power gone?
Justice the throne has wickedly left;
And the State under hooves shamefully bent.
No ruling tyranny to survival is destined;
Not even Hajjaj's ill-reputed tyranny,
Driven by a Prince's blissful wishes and agony.
The Prince oft declares: "I'm the pharaoh of all",
Flatteringly all jesters joyfully get around,
And witted words for the Mahraja abound.
When flocking to his shrine,
Well-being prayers were done,
And precious gifts, placed in hand, was fun.
My goodness! This is your prince and crown:
Generously offer him a silky gown;
Sing him a ballad in praise;
For once delighted by rhyme & rhythm,
He'd be taken by amaze;
Pour him a sip of Arabian coffee,
And let your drums please his ears.
Tell him his subjects are safe and sound,
And all sleepless eyes are all around.
Wait for the galloping horses of death:
The foe's raids your Home demand,
The blades into the Prince's chest abound,
And witnesses thy be over his rotten flesh.
Why not ask Tariq's fleets,
Sailing the troubled Mediterranean?
Why not ask Ommayads' armies, whose drums
Persia's tough gates listened to their beats?
Why not ask Haroon Arrashid's conquest,
Which turned wide open those bolted gates?
Why not ask Saladdin's counter-attack,
Whose victory was hailed across Egypt & Iraq?
The Arab sovereignty away had died,
Only when rulers Ahmed's wisdom denied.
Recall that whoever followed the Prophet's suit,
Did find refuge and serenity in his pursuit.
How come, Oh, Arab nation?!
Factions, our heritage, meant to abolish;
Some are guided, but mislead, by chiefs,
While others turned into killers and thieves.
Every sect is but a slave to a master,
Whose gangs are but butchers of their tyrant.
And the helpless masses are no more than herds,
Whose lord, like a dog, devours their chicken.
The west watches the roasting scene of the masses,
Waiting for the dish to be served.
The smell, irresistible, led the barges into the sea,
Stationed gunfire around the fences,
And helped fuel the jets hovering in the sky.
Yeah! You have to welcome Phantoms & Mirages!
| | |
|
A Transcendental Image
10/18/07 |
Melodic the voice is around,
And birds in the bush,
Playing the guitar,
Get off the ground.
A wise man thereabout,
An elderly person,
Youngsters: boys 'n girls,
And newly-born babies,
Embrace the flowers that abound.
Scented the air is,
The soil, no less, rejoices,
Thereupon souls refreshed become;
Butterflies remain fluttering;
Over there beings move,
Blissfully over here others,
Freely wander.
And Me, in ecstasy,
Under the sun lie,
Meet my girl,
In the ever-green farms,
And in courtship we bathe;
An everlasting love,
The birds celebrate:
To learn how kisses are made.
Then comes the Evening;
Every living to abode retires.
Darkness prevails,
And the universe is dressed in black.
Darkness! Foolish thy name is;
Yet impudently He frowns.
But whence the Moon
His evil face uncovers,
Into shriek He goes,
And seeks a way to flee.
No way! Morning is approaching;
Light out is coming;
Life is once again blossoming,
And all beings restart rejoicing.
| | |
|
Fooled By Memories
12/01/07 |
Memories, be them sweet, sad, or sour,
Are best consumers of Man's time & power.
Most oft, sighs are brought to the fore;
Though painful, we can never ignore.
To have them back in ecstasy,
We fool ourselves;
For this is a mere fallacy:
What's gone is stacked on shelves.
Recall the flowers nodding their heads,
When as lovers you dropped by their beds.
Recall the moment when lovers depart;
All that's around pay tribute to the heart.
Lose a father, an akin, or a friend,
Memories neither heal or mend,
Wounds that never come to an end,
Nor are they allies of us to defend.
The days gone are gone!
Useless it is to weep on.
Fair or unfair have been the days bygone,
Celebrate not, regret not what's being done.
'Tis true that with us they do sleep;
And like it or not, under bed they creep.
Most oft than not, they let us weep,
And blind us to stare as long as cows and sheep.
| | |
|
A Lover's Dim Picture
01/05/08 |
No one knows save the moon,
The secrets of a tender heart,
The pains inflicted,
The joys inhibited,
And all passionate feelings:
Once shattered apart,
Be it in the morn or noon,
And another gathered around,
Under the silvery light,
Amid the mid of night.
More and more she glitters,
To the poet an ear she gives,
And the stars join in to hear,
What young lovers most fear:
Restlessness and agitation;
Agonies and frustration;
Bla…bla…bla,
Which all crown hesitation,
Which all cry for salvation,
And which all fight over 'dear'.
The moon to listen is ready;
The stars are ever steady,
But the poet declines to 'go';
For he the moon asks:
Why should love and hate,
In us, but nowhere else, mate?
Why does love often glow,
In the beams of your hair,
And let hate around grow?
Can't you see this just unfair!
| | |
|
Who Ye Blame
01/20/08 |
Who ye blame, oh, blonde?
The word you gave, you broke,
No room for passions you left,
And, yet, me to blame?
In thee my longing seeds I sowed;
A toddler of me you'd make,
And that you'd wean me, I guessed.
But never did I blossom,
Nor into flowers turn.
My death for I waited;
My death God I pleaded,
Ye, who promised, flouted, and never longed;
who to blame?
Too oft for you did I seek,
And sleepless did I remain;
My nights awake had I passed;
Bitter you are, others truly say,
Ye, blonde! Faithless thou appeared;
For three years tortured had I been,
Hanging around your parents' place;
And, still, bitter you'd shown to be,
Ye, the unbearable!
Who me you promised, broke your word,
And never heeded;
Me to blame?
As patient as Jove had I been,
For long had I waited, you know;
And too much missing you is a blow.
For long had I waited ‘n got fed up;
Too many vows to God I made,
And Him I pleaded you make a move;
But neither did you move, nor respond,
Ye, who promised, flouted,
And never heeded;
Me to blame?
A letter did I send,
Love would speak up, thought I,
That with sweet words would you reply,
That perhaps your vision could I see,
Along with wedding trays trilling high.
Your blame never did I foresee,
Ye, who promised, flouted,
And never longed;
Me to blame?
Heart-broken and crazy did I go;
Nay! Lunatic didn't I go;
For the best men to your parents I sent.
To approach you was my intent,
But me you deserted;
It's all your fault, ye who refrained.
Agonizing had I been; my spirit you know;
And with tears the wedding bed I let flow.
It's you who erred, and the public know.
How come you blame?
Could you my weak points show?
Your anger never did I foresee,
Ye, who promised, flouted,
And never longed;
Who to blame?
| | |
|
Waiting For Godette
01/20/08 |
All affections are in black 'n white,
Save my yearning for thee; ever bright!
Yearning got on my nerves and let me down;
It agonized my heart and turned it into tears.
Such a passion, creeping into the dark, frown;
And her thorns resemble meteoric spears.
She snakes her way through the heart,
Making me spend the whole night agitating.
Tears try to put out agonies in vain,
Though all the night long pouring.
A roaring voice in my heart complain:
When will dating be? My patience is gone.
If loneliness can be grieved over,
I wouldn't, in my solitude, remain sad,
Feeling guilty and hiding that guilt,
From the partner sharing my living, though close.
Oh life! You took away all my mates,
And you left me all alone roaming as an alien.
Ye life! You robbed me off all my sweet dreams,
And now I'm no more than a vagrant.
What a life! Full of outcries, hoping forth;
Like the Impossible: If eased off, the more pricking.
I ask thee to send me a scented message,
Perhaps in smelling your words I find myself.
| | |
|
