3 poems

I.

And so it Begins

A piercing ray of light

Striking my bright-blue eyes

My chest pounding ceaselessly

A newly arrived foreigner

In an bright-blue sea of adventure

Greeting foreign faces

Stamped with a bright-blue name

My bright-blue eyes look out on an emerging horizon

And I hopelessly run to reach it

II.

And so it Continues

My blood-red vessel moves and speaks

Clear white rods grow and shape

My blood-red jacket

Reaching no conclusions

No bright-blue horizons

Only spilling blood-red blood

I think and feel with my blood-red brain and heart

I see, I learn, I know nothing

My blood-red machine pumps on toward the horizon

III.

And so it Ends

The sky turns jet-black

An arctic cold grips my blood-red machine

Freezing its mortal gears

The pounding of my chest ceases

A jet-black darkness blinds

My bright-blue eyes

A newly arrived foreigner in a jet-black universe

My bright-blue horizon fading with my blood-red vessel

And forest-green and dirt-brown consume my being

Omar

On Fame, On Fame Continued, and On Fame Concluded (My 3 Conditions Poem the Exercise in Format)

Omar Elkoton
Professor Mounzer
Creative Writing
16 July 2009
Note: This is essential one big poem split into three parts. So, I suggest reading it through without stopping before you place comments that way there’s more continuity.

On Fame
He can hear the crowd brimming with excitement
The torrent of their excitement, their love. Imbues him with
The cloak of a God.

He is their hero.
And he knows it.
Should he tell them?

That the sheer weight of this image terrifies him.
He’s not Superman, That’s just his secret identity.
In reality. He’s just Clark Kent with an inferiority complex.

He can’t tell them that.

On Fame Continued

He can’t admit to being human.
That in the dark corners of his heart.
His fears and desires burn in a single flame of insecurity.

He can’t even admit this to himself.
If he did the flame would evaporate. Because
The image is padding so that he may wear the giant’s robe. Which

Exacerbate his insecurities. Because
He must be the giant. He must bring the stars down to the people
He must be their Prometheus. He must be the caretaker of their image of him.

Or, he will have to surrender his Cloak of Invincibility, and be swallowed by Obscurity.

On Fame Concluded
He can’t be smothered by Obscurity. Not now. Not again.

Become just an imprint of a person.
Or worse, inhabit that limbo of the memory. Forever verging on recognition
chocking on his dreams.

All his accomplishments uprooted and stuffed into a Where Are They Now? Segment on E TV. His work reduced to quips on the “Tonight Show”.
No, he can’t face that. He can’t be erased.

What about them? They idolize him.
Three quarters of him feels like a gambler squandering their love, their belief in him. What should he tell them?

Loss Poem (workshopped)

In memoriam

What are you feeling?
Discovery, surprise, amusement, hope
Confusion, regret, apathy, despair?
What are you thinking of?
First steps, first kiss, first dance
Last love, last Christmas, last meal?
Faces, names, addresses: all gone.
I try to refresh her memory with
Photos, videos, books.
That time you hit me in public,
That time you saw my first play.
Nothing, just an empty past
A meaningless present and
A dark future politely smiling,
Tenderly holding my hands.
What is politeness? What
Does tenderness feel like?
Rest now Grandma, sleep
For I, will remember for you.

Trapped

It follows me everywhere.

Day and night,

When I first open my eyes every morning

Till my very last glance of the day.

I try to fight it but It wont go away.

It’s pulling me apart like

Trapped gases waiting to escape or

Being suffocated.

From what I’ve tasted in life

This tastes the worst,

Bitter, Sweet.

I hate it, I fear it.

I love it

I desire it.

It knows me better then I know myself.

And when it does, I try to ignore it.

But it keeps finding me, following me.

It knows when to grab on to me

When to let go of me,

When to lead me

When to leave me.

Im trapped.

I hope I’l find my way out.

 

A Photo Recovered from Beirut

I heard the traffic and later bombs
I felt the joy and later death
In a photo of a city, a city of life
Where roads are to be torn apart
Leaving East and West
Its busy streets, crowded with people
Are silenced with whistles of fired arms
Bags of sand have closed those shops
To shelter corpses of rotten
and stop the rays of sun

******
It is melting down
But the city survived
Over guns and tyranny
It kept its pride
******
A photo to recover
Those glamorous days
And not to repeat that stupid war

Take a chance (scavenger hunt poem)

Would you take the cake

and just lie in silence

when around you the voices

talk all kinds of madness.

Would you buy a ticket 

to the core of the world

when from your very place

you could skateboard bareback

through forbidden games

and around stinking monsters.

If you could break free

and make your way

out of the hat

and through colored walls

would you, would you not?

Get your ticket

leave your hat

wave farewell

to dots and barriers

be the king

your world is not flat

The Difference is Real( Scavenger Hunt)

That they may have life
and have it more abundantely
What is to be done?
LISTEN UP!
Bring out the best in YOU
The best out of LIFE
Eat, pray and love
life's like that
Taste the best
vitamins, minerals and herbs
deliciously good
lose weight and feel great

NO SMOKING
SLOW DOWN
NEVER HIDE
RIGHT ON TIME
FEEL GOOD MOOD

Yeah!! The difference is REAL

Exclusive appearence....The positive YOU

Experience life
Have it your way!

The White Rose of Grief

I stole it from her book
And kept it in mine
With a smile on her lips
During times of wine
*****

The pain of its thorns
Driving my blood
Have been lost in a Dream
of a beautiful theft

*****
Not more than a month
and it slipped away
waking me up
to respect destiny

*****
On my book of life
What is left is a print
That calls me far
To mourn what once was white
and now a scar

Do Not Litter (Scavenger Poem)

The World’s largest Amusement institution
Don’t Miss!!!
The Private Party
Peter Doroman The fifteenth president of the university
Maybe attending
On the menu
Flying pizza
Black coffee, with milk only, with sugar only
*****
Tickets are available in the
Help Book Store
For more information please contact
Jeanne d’ Arc
*****
Girls of Riyadh shout
“ Gaza is bleeding”
“betrayal is the favorite weapon of the ambitions”
From far and near they all meet here
Abdallah salam loved the view from this bench
*****
Speed bump ahead, Room 313
Where many can teach but few can reach
That they may have life and have it more abundantly

This life (scavenger poem)

Concerts, come to night Beirut
Not allowed , don’t pass
Ready, set, laugh ‘Ahlein’
Welcome summer music splash

Free heart, Saturday night
Mix and match
Hip hop hits, boom boom pow
Clubaholics, control attention
Spice up , turn lights off

Holidays, sweet you’re in
Right on time, the show must live
Opening hours: green lights
Dance, #1 musical events

What about Lebanon
Open performance
Come to this area
Live, taste the best!

The Arabian Way (Scavenger Poem)

The Arabian Way
Blow Up
the street
the bank
for complaints
Not the Arabian Way

We felt like an Exhibition
Like a Karnival
We Rebel
Blow up bank
Spice up your summer

We felt like,
Valet parking
Pull the dyslexia from your heart
We Ned Help
Not, Strictly Lebanese affair
We! Need Help
Good men, need help

Open Your Heart
We Crave bliss
Not Nokia
We Crave the Arabian Way

Know your facts
Pull our ID from Gas Tank
Pull it from the Pitch
Call Lebanese
Men

Call Public Relations
Not NYPD
We buy your way
Copy the Arabian Way

July 6, 2009

First Breath After Coma

This is my city, not my home
Under the shadow of the buildings that pierce the sky
I survive
But I do not live
The streets hold a suffocating silence that
Hides the true nature of the city
Were life to take hold of this concrete menace
A fiery demon would erupt from the ground
Shrieking with the voices of a million lives, in unison
Deafening those who have yet to be thrown into
The lifeless abyss
Yet, quiet sustains
Surviving these streets no longer phases me
Like the city, I have become lifeless
The rough, grainy surface of the streets has stripped me of
My innocence
Like an unassuming virgin raped in the back alleys of a city
Gone mad
But hope remains
Crawling through this seemingly eternal abyss
One learns that even the strongest walls can be broken
Trudging through the garbage and pollution, a breeze blows
Carrying the smell of fresh, crisp air
Though I am alone, I know there is another out there
Who can smell it too
This hope consumes me
One day this city will fall on itself; implode, and then…
Nothing
These buildings are temporary, like everything else.
I survive to live, but I cannot live to survive
I cannot break
This lifeless city is not my home

Scavenger Hunt Poem

The First Glance 

She held her as tight as elastics.

Comforting as soft cotton,

Her sweet hands gently surrounded her.

New to life, new to her.

Wide open gazes flared back and forth.

Tender welcoming.

Secure as a lock with thick chains that cant be opened,

She held the key,

To a new life, a new path.

She brought sparkling life out of her serene body,

And for that she has received the same.

A divine angel

In disguise,

Yet to be shared,

With you, with me, with everyone.

 

 

The scavanger hunt poem

Beirut

The heart of Beirut

is loaded with

indoor and outdoor events

and world inspirations

Spanish, English, Chinese and Arabic.

In Beirut,

see beyond the ordinary.

The predictable

is not allowed.

Beirut is the entrance to

all talents of Lebanon.

At day break,

special events, try outs,

annual student exhibitions and story shows.

In Beirut,

everyone's connected!

All are welcome!

Join us!

The 'loss' poem

Back Then and Now

Back then,
we had a love thing going on.
They would wink at me,
and, though I tried,
I could not look away.
The way they looked
Got me dreaming and wanting them all.
But things started to change.
My cheeks were
as puffy as those luscious marshmallows,
And tummy
as jiggly as sugary jello.
My fingers turned
chubby and puffy like Granny’s buttered bread sticks,
And derriere
As round as Wonka jawbreakers.
It became hard to go on pretending
That my skirts were shrinking
And shirts were dwindling.
I felt ashamed of losing control
And just letting go.
I could no longer ignore
The tipping scale
and the rising weight.
Still, I realized it was not too late.
On a Monday,
I put all the
Goodies away.
The running shoes came on,
The sweat drizzled,
And the belly grumbled…
No more chips,
No more chocolates, and
No more chickening out.
So long to the
Frequent midnight kitchen visits, and
The endless urges for fries and chips.
Months later, the
Pounds came off.
Soon after,
The fat was gone,
The foe crushed,
And the fight was won!

My first cell phone


Shining like sun in my life
Lighting my path with your existence
Linking me with the world around
Not leaving me alone ever


Connecting me with my family and friends
Connecting me with the people I love
Representing the best period of my life
Representing the lost memories and days


Having you back will be great
Yet it won't bring back my old days
Oh, my dear first cell phone

By: Maha Ghanem
rewriting of the lost poem

Through the naked eye

In the apparent seclusion of where he was seated

amongst a throng of figures and hazy silhouettes

he narrows his eyes to what lay ahead of him.

He looks, he stares, at times even lingering

over some object in the distance 

or some person in the shadows.

In the midst of the crowd, silently screaming,

he reaches out to the world,

a world that seemed to rejoice

in the cold emptiness of its every component.

In front of him was a spectacle 

of kids and couples and happy folks.

But none of it seemed truly solid

for faces did not resemble faces

and objects were merely imprints of objects.

And there he was, amongst it all

his eyes full, his mind blank

looking but failing to see

reaching out yet never reaching.

All it took for his world to tumble

was a pair of spectacles, lost,

taking with them a whole other existence.

My Watch

My watch
Stopped
The hands are frozen
My wrist is blank
Losing it is

Like following
An empty instructions manual
Or like trying to follow
A recipe blindfolded
Like somebody is grabbing
Fistfuls of my stomach
Then letting them trickle out

Because
Order is, Time on a leash
Measuring, Time is
Seeing my plans bloom
And my future take root
Its stitching purpose
Into my soul

Because
Time alone, just is
No meaning
No point
It is Chaos

It Is. Loss

Omar Elkoton June 26, 2009
Revised July 11 and 12 2009

Missing You

What we had is still there ,
you will stay forever inside
safely guided to my heart.
Having you made my world shine,
closed the curtains of sorrow.
　
It’s not just from the old past,
it’s a deeply hidden dream
that pointed you out with a beam.
Leaving you made a deep wound
that scattered my soul
tortured my heart.
　
I can hear your whispers,
I can feel your breath,
you are buried in me.
Heavy tears passed by
giving me back a soul to cry
but memories are still alive
giving me hope before they die.
　
　

Happily Never After...

Even though, We are distance apart
just remembering times we've spent togethar,
My heart will constantly beat
Even though, We will never share these moments again,
My soul will always linger in your heart
Even though, I would never show a drop of tear fall down my cheek
My pain will never heal
Even though, We will never be together again
My love to you will never doubt

Rubble

Dust in the air making me sneeze

Broken walls, ruins surround me

My sister waving from afar

Taking a picture of the deafening surrounding

Chaotic atmosphere, feeling eerie

Not by the chattering people all around me

I glance up at a lamp post

Rusted by corrosion? Or eroded by war

I march towards my sister who’s hiding

Behind a camera, taking photos

I grab her arm and drag her away

With the gritty aftertaste of debris

Dryness of sand and dust in my mouth

Leaving the rubble behind never to be forgotten

My lovely country

The world change
War came
Destroying and damaging everything
Beautiful Lebanon is no longer there
And the world has changed
My lovely country has changed


Roads and sidewalks are no longer there
Dirty, ugly places came into existance
Replacing my calm city with noise
Making life harder to carry on
Survival was not easy
Being part of that world was not easy
And the world has changed
My lovely country has changed


Peaceful sun will shine again
Lighting lebanese people path
Keeping them away from fights
Having them all together
Unifying them aganist others
Having hope and faith for change

Then the world will change
And my lovely country will change


By: Maha Ghanem

Empty Hope

The early prayer echoes in the background
As the children embrace their youth
The divine watches over the lives
Of those whose struggles continue to thrive
Faithful they be upon their God
Whose promise of good continues to prove fraud
Poverty continues to taunt these people
Making them ever more weary
Of the pain, the suffering, the isolation
So they do what we are built to do
They cling to hope
However faint it may be
My only fear is
That the billions of similar beginnings
Focus on the wrong path
Support the wrong leaders
And demand from a constrained God
For he is merely the creator
And not the maintainer
It is up to us to look within ourselves
As a tool for something better
Nobody but ourselves
Can rid us of this bad weather

SnapShot

Oh round we go,

Spin us more then life

Has ever had.

We go places,

And see so many faces.

Ecstatically crazy,

That's how we do it,

Completely happy,

That's how we choose it.

Extreme fun,

Thats our moto in life.

Adults we are,

Not very close to perfection though.

Chaotically insane,

The least of our expectations.

Our desires,

The beast inside of us.

Set him free

And completely will he be,

Everything, crazy and loud.

Teenagers we happened to once be,

And forever we will choose to be.

Possessed we could sometimes look,

But thats just how much fun we book.

Obsessed with big city lights,

Thats how we get it right.

Oh round we go,

Eyes closed,

Eyes opened,

Eyes closed,

Eyes wont open.

Life,

Spins us,

Drops us,

Leaves us,

Loves us,

Chooses us

And makes of us.

We,

Spin it faster,

Pick ourselves back up,

Open doors,

Also lie on floors.

We,

Love and hate,

Appreciate and affiliate,

But most of all,

We go round.

 

Sniper's

Sniper's is the place

to go to when it's late,

and just hang out with the guys

when you have extra time to kill.

We have pool tables

so you can show off your skills,

and tasty arguilehs

for you to smoke away.

It may be noisy,

but that's why it's lively.

It may be smelly outside,

but it's not inside.

It may be 'smokey',

but that's your fault.

What makes it special

is its fight to stay alive.

In the harsh and messy war days,

amidst all the blood, chaos and destruction,

it was shut down,

but now,

it's back!

Standing strong, and

carrying our fathers' legacy.

So, come on over

just like your fathers did.

And drink, smoke and play

at our all men's hideaway.

We're even open on labor day!

Fading Away

Water , ships , and rocks
embracing each other,
drawing an old vague scene
colored with a splendid yellowish green
which has been altered as seen
through running ages and years

Old people fishing, gazing
at the smooth watery view.
Ships sailing moving around
buildings crashing with moving sounds
changing the scene into a choatic ground

Nothing is left,everything is gone,
even in photographs,
where they become scattered and torn.

The Taste of Sin.

Beginning with the fall of Eden,
A destruction of royal mystery,
Woman of man reduced to a heathen
A Devolution of divine entity.

The intimidation of a slithering temptation,
The Wondrous Apple of her eye,
Knowledge taken but not forgiven,
Was expelled from the sky.


Deafening sounds by Angels with harps, escorting the fallen to the land of the dark.

Floating on Velvet softness,
Arriving on Satin smooth.
The Smell of the Garden dissipates,
Lemon Breeze to Ocean blue.


A Taste worth changing,
From sweet to sour.
A risk worth taking,
Regretted by the hour.