Rita Odeh, IL

 

 

Free Verse   Liberty   By writing, I do touch the stars in a moment of birth between one death and another.     Mirrors of Illusion Isn't it Time to set my body free from the bottle of perfume, to set my pain free from the the coffins of the tribe, to set my neck free from the scaffold of injustice, and my face from the mirrors of illusion..?! Isn't it Time to look for my voice in the chat of seabirds to the waves, to draw my identity card in the whisper of the papers to the waves of ink..?!     A Cry of Syntax   Till when will the honest human being be an absent pronoun, and the dwarfs who look like " verbs," put down, and put up Whatever they want Whenever they want..?!     Robbery   Life is a lamp, but, who stole its fuel..!?     Suffocation   I own a dream, but, I don't own a window which can overlook it.     Curfew   A passing-by soldier stopped me at the gate of your thoughts, shouting: " Identity Card..!". When he discovered that I am an Arab, he confiscated my dreams.     The Dialogue of Reminiscences   What does an olive tree say to the pieces of stone that fall on it after every on purpose demolish..?!     Conflict   Sadness besieges me, so I besiege it with all my might. Indeed, only the strongest survives.     A Fairytale   So many times I've dreamt that my shoe unconsciously slips from my foot, and a wonderful prince wanders in a long long trip looking for me.     Silence   Let's hush for a while. Let's listen: Here they come: what, where, when, and, why.. rushing to us while we are both lonely. l o n e l y. So     Free Wings   Don't enter the cage of my heart As a tame bird. Be free. Fly high, Because this is how I can adore you. A Sandy Hope Since our dream began to kindle, we have been piling sacks of sand on its doors and windows. How much sand is there left in the deserts Of this universe..?!     A Twin Of Dream   I wish that you stay a dream so that I won't lose you. But I don't know why whenever I see two in love, I do miss you.     Love   I dreamt that I am a rose. When I woke up, you were near me, inhaling my fragrance, and, getting more and more agitated…     Love   My thrill of being your beloved is a belt capable of exploding sadness.     Belonging   Your fate is to be: a subject". " My fate is to be: ." the predicate " Our fate is never to be in the same sentence.     Yearning   As an eagle knows the language of storm, I know how to tame by words my yearning for you.     Trapped   Like a baby lion you come strutting into my net, asking to be caught. Aren't we both already caught in the cage of—LIFE..?!     Double Attitude   I sought refuge in your hand, chasing the wheat of affection. I found out that it can also… BEAT.     Adam And Eve   He promised her fields of wheat. He promised love and heat. She received waves of…HATE.     Ink Lasts Longer   Stop weeping over a poured out dream. Dry your tears and write me Ink lasts longer than love.     Haiku   the scent not the flower is driving me crazy     ...cloudy morning a kite flies higher than its string     autumn morning— strutting behind his shadow the old turkey       ...still lake seagulls stir the far moon     refugee camp— sculpting the tree trunk into a cross     funeral procession— a neighbour's swing sways with the wind     borders— sparrows fly above the rusty barbwire     women shelter— yasmine scents spread beyond the fence     Valentine morning— time to release the lovebirds     after a ...long night the morning glory     first butterfly— a child asks if it's real     crowded park— a couple hugs in my shadow     waning moon— on her mourning dress a white pacifier     peace talk— the third crow of a rooster     Romeo and Juliet— the seat next to me remains vacant     ...setting sun taller than the kid grandma's cane     ...camp she asks her father what is a refugee     ...borders the olive branches sway beyond the barbwire     ...by the river my rough dream drifts towards the sea     ...that full moon a coin falls into the beggar's palm     first dew touch— shyly, the lily unfolds her petals     Valentine's dawn— awakened by a woman's scream     still wandering over fields of chrysanthemum my old dream of love     crowded tents— how can the cactus bloom..?!     noisy market— lulled by mom's begging he drifts to sleep     eagle's wing— understanding well the language of wind     Free Verse   christmas morning; a child on the crowded lorry counting one soldier . . . two, three     Who can find a cunning poet..?!   Who can find a skillful, cunning poet..?! for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her reader does safely trust in her. She keeps surprising him, all the days of her life. Like the merchants' ships; she brings her insights from afar. She rises also while it is yet night, to meditate. Then, she seeks the silk of the dream and weaves her poems. She is never scared of any storm, for her palace is built on a solid soil. Her readers arise up, and call her blessed; her critics also, and they praise her. * Many have tried the language Prose and poems, but I —who know the secret of the rose's scent— excelled them all.   Read Rita Odeh's haiku in the "harvest moon" Kukai