Bushonomics: America Hungers

A child sits on a ragged step
There heart ripped and torn
Yesterday the sun thought shine
Today it is nothing, but storms.

My mother use to have a job
My father went away
Our house was foreclosed upon
So here we have to stay.

The child see’s other kids
There Mother buys them good things to eat
But my mother can’t even buy bread
So we whimper, bulge and cry, with a painful sigh.

You ask what the child is called,
In such despair and misery
They use to call me many things
But now they just call me, America.

- HRM Deborah

In a Gondola

Grand Canal with Gondolas, in Venice, Italy.

Of the many cities in Italy, Venice is one of the most famous cities in the world for Romance, especially, a gondola floating down the soft gentle ripples of the canal; to listen to music and poetry floating upon the winds to dance within the ears.

One thing also, that always comes to mind towards thinking of Italy as a whole is the great Opera’s and singers.

by Robert Browning (1812-1889)

HE moth's kiss, first!
Kiss me as if you made me believe
You were not sure, this eve,
How my face, your flower, had pursed
Its petals up; so, here and there
You brush it, till I grow aware
Who wants me, and wide ope I burst.

The bee's kiss, now!
Kiss me as if you enter'd gay
My heart at some noonday,
A bud that dares not disallow
The claim, so all is render'd up,
And passively its shatter'd cup
Over your head to sleep I bow.

Dear Mr. Mole

Dear Mr. Mole you burrow so
Digging my flowers with your nails like a hoe
I wish you would find some other yard
For my precious flowers are worth more
Then you’re hovel in my rainbow color.

-HRM Deborah

Fly amongst the Valley of the Kings

Hot air balloon overlooking a mountain in Luxor, Egypt.

Fly as the distant balloon journeys,

Silhouetted by crimson mountains

hewn as shades of pomegranate.

Prosperity as savored with lips

moistened of dew.

For a thousands years is just one day,

As a thought is a lifetime.

-Deborah

Valley of the Kings, Temple of Hatshepsut, (aerial view ) Luxor, Egypt.

A Noble House

A nobler house no one can find
One standing alone waiting with time
He who seeks to find its treasure’s
Will find the love incased in its wonders
Waiting to embrace the finder who dared to seek
A house unfolded in a single moment.

-Deborah

Media Bed Deception

What is truth
And what are lies
Makes it a media bed
In deceptive eyes.

Truth walks small
And lies are fat
Some People would rather over eat
Then lay lazy on there backs.

-Deborah

The Nine Little Goblins

Written by James Whitcomb Riley
Illustrations by Will Vawter

THEY all climbed up on a high board-fence---
Nine little Goblins, with green-glass eyes---
Nine little Goblins that had no sense,
And couldn't tell coppers from cold mince pies;
And they all climbed up on the fence, and sat---
And I asked them what they were staring at.

And the first one said, as he scratched his head
With a queer little arm that reached out of his ear
And rasped its claws in his hair so red---
"This is what this little arm is fer!"
And he scratched and stared, and the next one said,
"How on earth do you scratch your head ?"

And he laughed like the screech of a rusty hinge---
Laughed and laughed till his face grew black;
And when he clicked, with a final twinge
Of his stifling laughter, he thumped his back
With a fist that grew on the end of his tail
Till the breath came back to his lips so pale.

And the third little Goblin leered round at me---
And there were no lids on his eyes at all---
And he clucked one eye, and he says, says he,
"What is the style of your socks this fall ?"
And he clapped his heels---and I sighed to see
That he had hands where his feet should be.

Then a bald-faced Goblin, gray and grim,
Bowed his head, and I saw him slip
His eyebrows off, as I looked at him,
And paste them over his upper lip;
And then he moaned in remorseful pain---
"Would---Ah, would I'd me brows again!"

And then the whole of the Goblin band
Rocked on the fence-top to and fro,
And clung, in a long row, hand in hand,
Singing the songs that they used to know---
Singing the songs that their grandsires sung
In the goo-goo days of the Goblin-tongue.

And ever they kept their green-glass eyes
Fixed on me with a stony stare---
Till my own grew glazed with a dread surmise,
And my hat whooped up on my lifted hair,
And I felt the heart in my breast snap to
As you've heard the lid of a snuff-box do.

And they sang "You're asleep! There is no board-fence,
And never a Goblin with green-glass eyes!---
"Tis only a vision the mind invents
After a supper of cold mince-pies,---
And you're doomed to dream this way," they said,---
"And you sha'n't wake up till you're clean plum dead!"

Note:

This particular poem was a favorite of my mothers; the only thing is this poem scared her against eating cold mince pies.

Nevertheless, the illustrations are the original as far as I know and it is a delightful poem to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up like bugaboo and keep one entertained.

Nice Day for a Picnic

If Teddy Bears Ruled The World

If teddy bears ruled the world,
Oh my, what a wonderful place.
Everyone would be happy.
There would be a smile on every face.

We would picnic every Sunday
At our favorite old oak tree.
We would sing and dance and prance about,
Just playing joyfully.

We would all be nice to each other
And always lend a hand.
Ready with a bear hug,
We would always understand.

We would all be happy when something nice
Happened for one of our friends
And our friendships would last forever.
Nothing would cause them to end.

We would be kind to everyone,
Not just those in our own home,
But to everyone throughout our world,
Wherever we may roam.

Yes, if teddy bears ruled the world,
What a wonderful life this would be.
Our hearts would always be happy
As we danced by the old oak tree.

Janis Miner

Moon Dim Night's

On a moon dim night such as this
One ponders
Looking towards the mist.

Eyes of hollowness
Gown all racked and torn
As its skirts across the cobblestones.

The house lays empty to the mortal heart
But creeping from a distant realm
Is a young woman who does not rest,
In tombs of marble and of wood.

She searches for a child you see
That was lost a fateful night
As she lay in sweat and pain.

For it has been hundred years or more-
For her son grew up without her,
Only to be lost from a shipmates voyage
In the distant land of Spain.

- Deborah

Roses of Life

I've dreamed many dreams that never came true,
I've seen them vanish at dawn.
But I've realized enough of my dreams, thank God,
To make me want to dream on.

I've prayed many prayers, when no answers came,
Though I waited so patient and long,
But answers came to enough of my prayers
To make me keep praying on.

I've trusted many a friend who failed
And left me to weak alone,
But I've found enough of my friends to be true
To make me keep trusting on.

I've sown many seeds that fell by the way
For the birds to feed upon,
But I've held enough golden sheaves in my hands
To make me keep sowing on.

I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain
And gone many days without song,
But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life
To make me want to live on.

-Author Unknown

There is a Time for Silence

There is a time to speak so all may hear,

Then there is a time of silence

When all should pray,

Read the Quran

That all is of Allah.

For Allah always blesses the just.

For the just see’s Paradise.

For the just always walk's in humility.

A Good Play

We built a ship upon the stairs
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of sofa pillows
To go a-sailing on the billows.

We took a saw and several nails,
And water in the nursery pails;
And Tom said, "Let us also take
An apple and a slice of cake;"--
Which was enough for Tom and me
To go a-sailing on, till tea.

We sailed along for days and days,
And had the very best of plays;
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
So there was no one left but me.

-Robert Louis Stevenson

Two Sides of a Coin

A man holds out his hand in love
With heartfelt compassion
Hoping for a better future
To give strength
Clearing away sorrow’s tears.

Then you have a man who can walk a thousand mile’s
With sadness like a black storm ridden cloud
Never finding hope
Anger is more his friend
As death may seem a relief from life
But not from future’s torment.

As a coin has two side’s so does society
You can live for the good of mankind
Or create it’s destruction.
Allah deemed man should be good and the world flourish
Not oppression, poverty and war.

- Deborah

Truth Traverses Time

Old Street in Aleppo, Syria.

The story is always the same
No matter how far you travel
Or that which you see.

The players in name may change
Even to be forgotten within the shadows
For their misery upon humanity.

But the honest man
Allah holds unto there humble hand
Protecting them far and wide.

-HRM Deborah

Story of a Palestinian Girl

Go on and on defend your rights!
Let the world count your uprising nights!
A thousand naked soldiers wait in the dark,
While she turns on the lights!
A girl against a gun
She stood up, with the heart of a nun
With the eyes of a mother
And the energy of a sun
Soldiers saw her, so close
They fired; they killed a girl called Rose?
But after she had been buried,
With more than fifty rocks upon her chest, she rose!

-Author Unknown

Just a Matter of Time

by Deborah

Walking along carrying a ragged suitcase full of memories
Never looking back to what was
Stronger thinking what is ahead
The road may be long
But while it seems tomorrow never comes
While hope is never-ending.
With the knowing, that too many dreams have come true
Just one last dream, I wait to see.
A simple thought of a place called, "home"
Being a refugee is just a word,
The coming home, is just a matter of time.

“Jerusalem, is the center of the earth.”

Slow Dance

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round

Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight

Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down

Don't dance so fast

Time is short

The music won't last

Do you run through each day on the fly

When you ask "How are you?", do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores running through your head?

You'd better slow down

Don't dance so fast

Time is short

The music won't last

Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow

And in your haste, not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die

'Cause you never had time to call and say "Hi!"?

You'd better slow down Don't dance so fast

Time is short

The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere,

You miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through you day,

It is like an unopened gift..thrown away.

Life is not a race.

Do take it slower.

Hear the music

Before the song is over

(Author Unknown)

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Palestinian Wins Golden Wreath Award for Poetry

9 February 2007

Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish is this year's winner of the Golden Wreath Award allocated by the Struga Poetry Evenings (SPE), its Managing Board president Zoran Ancevski announced on Friday. Despite Darwish, seven other poets from Mexico, Bulgaria, Slovenia, Albania, Romania and Macedonia were nominated.

- Currently Mahmoud Darwish is considered to be the most eminent Palestinian poet and the most acclaimed one who creates in Arabic language. He has published over 30 poetry volumes, 8 novels, all in all 40 works, said Ancevski.

Darwish has won numerous international awards and affirmations. He actually embarked his poetry career at Struga Poetry Evenings in 1978.

In his letter to SPE, he highlighted that poetry's true identity has its roots in humanity and pure aesthetics, as well as in its ability to travel freely between cultures and languages.

SPE director Eftim Kletnikov said that preparations for the forthcoming festival were underway, whereas the winner of the Bridges over Struga Award for best newcomer in world poetry was due to be announced.

SPE and this year's laureate will be traditionally presented to UNESKO on March 21, World Poetry Day.

Source

Mahmoud Darwish is reading part of Ahmad Al Arabi at Mohmed the 5th theater in Alrebat. (Morocco)16 - 2 - 2007




"Takabar Takabar" lyrics by Mahmoud Darwish, music by Marcel Khalifah.

“Cry my beloved country" *

By Raja Mattar

Cry for my non-existent childhood

Cry for my stolen youth

Cry for my uprooted olive trees

Cry for my village which lost its name

Cry for the maimed children

Cry for the widowed mothers

And cry for the raped land.

A land I tended with my tears

Yes, cry, as I am crying

For non-caring kin

Yes, cry as I am crying

For non-caring humanity

Cry because I stopped crying

I have no more tears to spare

I need them for my children’s graves

My children have gone to war

They will not come back alive

They think their blood will bring back the olive trees

They think that their blood will wipe out the infamy

Of kin who did not raise a finger

Of humanity which did not utter a word

To protect my olive trees

* Theme inspired by the title of the South African writer Alan Paton’s book “Cry the Beloved Country”