Couplets for Barcelona by Ali Znaidi

Some songs and stories make me dream of you—“such a beautiful horizon.”

The wind will make my ship sail to you even without using a mizzen.

I’ll sing to you that beautiful song of Queen,

while dreaming of your calm sea, so serene:

………………………………………

Barcelona - such a beautiful horizon

Barcelona - like a jewel in the sun

Por ti sere gaviota de tu bella mar

Barcelona - suenan las campamas

Barcelona - abre tus puertas al mundo

If God is willing

-if God is willing

If God is willing

Friends until the end

Viva! Barcelona!

Oh, Barcelona! You are a poem written by the seductive Mediterranean Sea.

You make me spellbound. What can I do with thee?

I can only succumb to your sun soaked beaches and vivid trees.

I like to be soothed. I like to inhale your fragrant balmy breeze.

Your beauty casts a spell on me. It infiltrates into my heart and even into my kidney.

Joan de Déu Prats once called you “the city of the gardens with chimney.”

Oh, Barcelona! I see you a gorgeous mesmerising Mediterranean bride

You are enfolded in beauty, charm and pride.

Oh, Barcelona! Can I have the honour to be your knight

even for just one month and a fortnight?

Oh, Barcelona! You stand so loftily between the mouths of the rivers Llobregat and Besòs.

To you I send millions of kisses or “besos”.

“Oh, Barcelona I am so eager to come to you!” I said this even to a skylark.

How nice to have a stroll around the Gothic area or a walk around the Labyrinth Park!

In the narrow streets of the Gothic area I love to lose myself.

I like to have a drink and tapas in Born, while listening to an old man telling a story of an elf.

The “Boquería” market and the boutiques in Gràcia have their own charm.

I would love to have a coffee there, while reading Homage to Catalonia, not Animal Farm.

Oh, Barcelona! You are a city that gets me hooked and makes me spellbound.

I like to go to the Palace of Music to listen to the sweetest sound.

How nice to be in the Gothic Quarter or in Las Ramblas shopping street

contemplating the amazing architecture, while listening to buyers’ shuffling feet!

Oh my God, what a heavenly sight to see, and what marvels to relish!

What beauties to enjoy, and what a marvellous city to cherish!

Oh, Barcelona! Poets have written your name on papers of gold.

Only beauties are bestowed on you by the Lord.

 

Written Summer 2011

A Silkworm by Ali Znaidi

A silkworm waging

a war on

the cocoon,

and breaking the bars

with all her might.

 

She jubilantly

leaps out

from the cocoon,

free.

 

Smooth

silk in my hand.

 

Written 02/03/2012

Waterfalls of Hope by Ali Znaidi

Tonight the moon was sick.

The stars were slumbering

under black blankets,

and electricity went mad.

A small glimpse of seeing

a little lantern poised on

the wall of a remote

cottage,

standing there emanating

waterfalls of light

brightened my mood.

A little lantern holding its own

luminosity and proudly dancing

for being able to reflect,

and produce light in this sinister

somberness,

nailing the coffin of despair,

and flooding it with

waterfalls of hope.

Written 02/02/2012

Five Experimental Sonnets by Ali Znaidi

Sonnet 1


You can read sonnet 1 here

Sonnet 2


You can read sonnet 2 here

Sonnet 3


You can read sonnet 3 here

Sonnet 4

He escaped the grey town.

The colour grey harmed the eyes.

The eyes wanted to see other colours

diluted w/ desire.

The colour grey—ash in the ashtray,

grey pebbles prisoned in asphalt,

scents of a burnt tyre:

All coerced the poor eyes.

Same colour cuffed the eyes

from eyelash to eyelash.

The eyes wanted to see prairies, so lush.

Even a flash of greenness would suffice.

It would set the eyes aglow,

saving them from a deathblow.

Written 13/04/2012

Sonnet 5

You can read sonnet 5 here

A Traditional Haiku by Ali Znaidi

   the sun’s rays wither

 summer will never exist

    happy April’s fool

Written 08/04/2012

A New Life by Ali Znaidi

Deep sea.

Rough sea.

Howling wind.

Merciless tempest—

a monster with

dreadful shapes.

Ghost of death

apparition.

A lifeboat.

A white boat.

A new life

sprouts.

Written 16/04/2012

End by Ali Znaidi

And the morning

passed away,

as a flicker of light.

And the magnet

of the sun

witherd away,

as a weary bee

swallowed by

a black lily.

And the body

turned into a

nude skeleton,

as if it never

existed.

Written 16/04/2012

Three Haiku by Ali Znaidi submitted to the HaikuNow! international contests 2012

The Haiku Foundation here created the HaikuNow! international contests to expand opportunities for writers of English-language haiku. Prizes will be awarded for English-language haiku in three categories: traditional, contemporary and innovative. Results of 2012  were announced on April 17. For past winners, see the HaikuNow! Archive here.

These are the haiku I submitted on March 26, 2012 for this contest

Traditional Haiku

rain mingles with mud—

the big house falls asunder

wallpaper keyholes

Written 17/09/2011

Contemporary Haiku

a ripe fragrant apple thrown into

the dustbin

an educated  jobless

Written 11/05/2011

Innovative Haiku

worm injecting life into a corpse

Written 25/03/2012

So Many by Ali Znaidi

So many bombs of

anger are stored

in the heart,

ready to

explode any time

and destroy.

So many bombs of

wrath are stored

underneath the tongue,

ready to

explode any time

and assail.

So many wisdom teeth

are caged into the mouth,

ready to

intervene

and appease the tension.

Written 18 03 2012

A Bohemian Journey by Ali Znaidi

After years and years of making truce

with traditions and conventions,

and after years of touring the realms

of standardization,

it takes just one minute to be a bohemian.

Just decide to strip off

the robe of conformity

and start your bohemian journey,

letting your boat sail

against the current!

Written 10 04 2012

Postmodern Rain by Ali Znaidi

Then when I found frogs in the bucket instead

of water,

I just shivered.

I didn’t expect to find frogs; jumping frogs—

green ugly creatures that signify…

The bucket was full to the brim with frogs—

a palimpsest of scattered & scrambled ideas.

Green frogs in the bucket,

jammed like sardines in a basket.

Each one wanted to speak the truth.

I was flabbergasted.

I shivered.

I smashed the bucket against the wall,

and    f  r  a  g  m  e  n  t  e  d   it,

letting the frogs go in multifarious directions.

Written 10 04 2012

austerity measures by Ali Znaidi

no budget to inject life into projects

and feed new workers

new babies             new immigrants                              new asylum seekers

additional expenditures        additional costs                 the budget is weary

swollen pockets           swollen bellies                            swollen red cheeks

empty pockets              empty bellies                              99%  are in the red

red carpets                                                                                    ragged rags

scissors                                                                                fragments of rags

even breath is inhaled                              to the rhythm of austerity measures


Written 10 04 2012

Differences & One Similarity by Ali Znaidi

Resistance is when you stand up

against waves that forcibly want to

submerge you.

Terrorism is when a scorpion stung you,

but you just forget about it and tread

innocent ants.

A flamingo wades in water in search

for food.

A flamenco dancer soaked in sweat

in search for the body’s truth.

But there is no difference

between a frog and a crocodile as

they both suffer from identity crisis.

Written 11 04 2012

Tit for Tat by Ali Znaidi

Sun’s rays

slanderously

smeared

ice

while waiting

on tenterhooks

for the sunflowers

to wink.

Ice

slanderously

smeared

sun’s rays

while waiting

on tenterhooks

for the snowflakes

to fall

in sync.

Written 01 05 2012

Published in Dumb Butt Mag-May 3, 2012

Hello!

Hello there!
This is my blog in which I would like to share my poems that were published in periodicals and ezines. Besides, I would like to showcase some of my rejected poems that I think they are good in a way but they do not fit to be placed in such magazines due to aesthetics or theme. I also would like to shed light on my writing experience and other writing experiences.