رؤى بني مصطفى

,We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong ”.Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man

,Now we must get up quickly .dress ourselves, and run away Because it surrounds us, because ,they are coming with wolves on leashes because I stood just now at the window

In summer dusk the valley lies  ;With far-flung shadow veil  A cloud-sea laps the precipice  :Before the evening gale 

,O patient creature with a peasant face ,Burnt by the summer sun, begrimed with stains !And standing humbly in the dingy lanes ,There seems a mystery in thy work and place

Can you spin ,straw into gold straw into gold, a boast becomes a lie, a lie ,becomes a request ,becomes a promise becomes an agony

Sticks and sleeping bags and ants Dirty hands and grass-stained pants Gathering wood and piling up leaves

In the steamer is the trout ,seasoned with slivers of ginger .two sprigs of green onion, and sesame oil ,We shall eat it with rice for lunch

,Since I haven’t danced among my fellow initiates following a looped processions from woods at the edge –of a village, Tata’s people would think me unfinished  a child who never sloughed off the childish estate

,Full of desire I lay, the sky wounding me Each cloud a ship without me sailing, each tree .Possessing what my soul lacked, tranquillity

Musidorus Will you unto one single sense ?Confine a starry Influence ,Or when you do the raies combine

At least it helps me to think about my son a Leo/born to us (Aries and Cancer) some sixteen years ago

I am the Lost Classmate being hunted down the superhighways .and byways of infinite cyber-space How long can I evade the class committee

I have news relayed, and me sinking, falling somewhere Depths of unfamiliar raw and numb Lost with colour faded, heart of lead But news of magnitude with need to tell

,Gee Gee, your daddy told me how you fare ,Since April stole your song of sweet sixteen ,Your still life, limp and lifeless, lying there ,Another day of June no speech will bring

Sing a last song ,for the lady who has gone .fertile source of guilt and pain ,The worst birth in the annals of Brooklyn

We were low on petrol so I said let's freewheel .when we get to the hill It was dawn and the city

I don't know politics but I know the names Of those in power, and can repeat them like .Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru ,I amIndian, very brown, born inMalabar

This is a noon for beggars with whining Voices, a noon for men who come from hills ,With parrots in a cage and fortune-cards ,All stained with time

I am a kind word uttered and repeated ;By the voice of Nature I am a star fallen from the .Blue tent upon the green carpet

And when my Joy was born, I held it in my arms and stood on the house-top shouting, “Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that ”.laugheth in the sun

!Farewell we call to hearth and hall ,Though wind may blow and rain may fall We must away ere break of day .Far over wood and mountain tall

هل تساءلت يومًا كيف يطفو نسر في السماء عن طريق القيام بحركات دائرية؟ في هذه القصيدة تصور الشاعرة جوي هارجو كيف أنّ هذه الحركة الدائرية تشبه دورة الحياة.

.I had a beautiful dream I was dancing with a tree Sandra Cisneros— :Some things on this earth are unspeakable —Genealogy of the broken

,Dear Basketball From the moment I started rolling my dad’s tube socks And shooting imaginary

Moonlight fills the laurels Like music. The moonlit Air does not move. Your white .Face moves towards my face

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut That will solve a murder case unsolved for years Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window Through which he saw her head, connecting with

.With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain .Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying for more rain .Over the echo of the water, I hear a voice saying my name .No one in the city moves under the quick sightless rain

.I, too, sing America .I am the darker brother They send me to eat in the kitchen ,When company comes

,This is for the kids who die ,Black and white .For kids will die certainly ,The old and rich will live on awhile

!Good morning, daddy Ain't you heard The boogie-woogie rumble ?Of a dream deferred