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RANYA KHALIFA: "Democracy Digest"...



Posted on November 9, 2012 at 4:35 AM Comments comments (44)


My sweat dries,

      And is replaced,

Rolling over to either side,

       I close my eyes,

Breathing deeply,

      I squeeze the sand, tranced,

I touch the water, cold as ice,

      My secret oasis...

Sunburned, I rise to foot,

       Moving to shadows,

Palm trees aligned,

      Like a choir,

Believers shoulder to shoulder,

      Singing heavenly tunes,

The breeze, maestro of flute,

      My enchanting oasis...

Dates circle their founder,

      A dotted periphery,

As red as wine,

      Half-dried, but fully ripe,

The taste tingles my senses,

     Crisp and dry,

I gather a few, return to my shadows,

     My eternal oasis...

Camels stand in the shadow,

      Like an audience awaiting,

In breathless attention,

       As their keeper ties them to the bark,

They move in slow strides, no resistance,

      As if being led by an invisible hand,

Through the clear, soft sand...

An oval from above,

      Amorphous from below,

A drop from above,

     A well from below,

My oasis is,



     Purely Arabic...


"The Key of Life"....

Posted on November 7, 2012 at 4:30 AM Comments comments (50)

"The Key of Life"...

(This is a prose dialogue between an ancient Egyptian female pharoah and a person living in Egypt today...)

She led me by the hand, the corridor was dark,

      The stench of urine welcomes me to "old Age",

"Here is the chamber, or in your tongue, sarcophagus!"

       Scrolls spilled everywhere, papyrus shredded,

  The mummy laying before me, wore the hint of a sardonic grin...

Her scent tells of dyed cloth, the Nile, and Kohl,

        Her head wears thick meticulously braided black hair,

"Come to see our scriptures, or in your tongue, hieroglyphics!

      Tales are pictured to stay alive forever, eternal motion,

They speak of our glory, and your ignorant commotion"...

"We honored our dead, we obeyed our pharoahs,

      Our tombs, or in your tongue pyramids, outlived heroes,

Our ointments preserved bodies and did the tricks,

      Now you come to visit our Sphinx!

Mena the Mighty united the halves,

      Only to be visited by strangely-shaped calves!"

   "We call them vehicles, Your Majesty"...


"Nevertheless, they pollute our souls,

And disturb our tranquility,

      We cherished peace,

And respected humanity,

     We had dignity"...

"We were believers in the God of the Gods,

       We had kings and we had fiefs,

We had nature and coral reefs,

      What are your beliefs?

How do you preserve your dead?

      How do you keep out your thieves?"

"Our beliefs lie in money and matter,

       The two concepts 'coined' long after your term "barter",

The paper is valueless, but the number stamped, valuable,

       Our dead lay in hidden chambers, cannot be seen by family members,

Sometimes the body is robbed of its organs,

       Just like your bodies were robbed of gems"...

"Sounds to me like the "temple of doom",

       My friend, how do you tolerate such actions, such loom?"

"If only I could live in your age and story,

       Then I would have known the true meaning of life and glory"...

"Certainly, for we the ancient hold the key of life,

      A concept that cannot be coined in your unorthodox way of life"...

With this, she departed,

    Her head held high, walking through the picture,

She repositions her graceful self,

    Palms to the sky...

The void, on the temple wall, is now complete once more,

     She preferred to return to her own ancient world,

Than to stay in a world that tore....

The End


The Hunter...

Posted on February 28, 2012 at 7:45 PM Comments comments (53)
The Hunter...

The hunter recalls the path of loneliness,
     Treading on ashes and softened feathers,
He raises his head,
     A distinctive countenance...

Bow and arrow, he aims,
    Then chooses,
His device deadlier,
    Than a hundred nooses...

Alas the sun setting, the sky a mixture, well blended,
    The hunter gathers his piercing tools, left unattended,
He returns to his hut, amidst the wilderness,
    Standing undefended...

His fire is dim, but ablaze for the purpose,
   He eats his share of a daily reoccurrence,
The next day  unrevealed,
    He knows no assurance...

Dawn draws in, dressed in ghastly sequins,
    The hunter rises, the winds become gusty breezes,
The ashes of yesterday are scattered,
    The swirling smoke ceases...

The Ticking of Time...

Posted on February 17, 2012 at 6:10 AM Comments comments (0)
The Ticking of Time...

As you begin to bloom, you leave your protective cocoon,
    You're breaking free from your tiny bud,
Brighter and rosier than ever before,
    Now one amongst many,
Beware it's the ticking of time...

You're beginning to spread your petals,
    You sway in the wind and enjoy the sun,
A little bee comes to nuzzle against you,
    Self righteously it sucks the honey out of you,
Beware it's the ticking of time...

But this is the nature of the world,
   A red petal falls onto the wet mud,
The rain comes falling down, now in torrents,
    Your stem begins to bend, your leaves wither,
You can't go against the ticking of time...

Once beautiful and young, now bald and dying,
   You remember when the bees greedily took from you, how it stung,
But now you stand alone,
    Looking vulnerable for a kid without a stone,
You can't go against the ticking of time...

It hurts to be hurled amongst the waste,
    Once full and giving,
Your roots are torn and splitting,
   Your sap pours endlessly,
It was the ticking of time...

The Dark Compliment... (against repression in Africa)

Posted on June 28, 2011 at 6:31 AM Comments comments (0)
The Dark Compliment...

The link was cut, defined,
   Boundaries set, ranks resigned,
Minds saw reason, others struck blind,
    Torn in two, not aligned...

Separated by a stream of thought,
   Waters over which armies fought,
Rights of civilians couldn't be bought,
   No matter what the goodness sought...

Lands of preserved wilderness,
   Now ridden with bewilderness,
Cultures once unknown and dark,
   Being extinguished, leaving no mark...

Dark flesh, and blood, called third races,
   Are being repressed in locked cages,
Being shot down in upheavals and rages,
   For trying to cross to safer places...

Free the zibras, giraffes, and mice in mazes,
   "Display of wild animals in Kenya", exotic phrases!
Safaris stampeded with tourists and long gazes,
   While bodies lay infested in ditches, leaving no traces...

While the snow thickens in Antarctica...
   Fires have burned the bridges of Africa...

The Flowing Stream...(published this poem in the U.S.)

Posted on June 28, 2011 at 6:25 AM Comments comments (0)
The Flowing Stream...

A stream of no beginning,
    A tunnel of no ending,
An endless dream,
   A flowing stream...

Time has no meaning,
  It's no longer demeaning,
To show thy feeling,
   To reveal thy thinking...

No anger to persuade,
   My emotion to fade,
Thee shall never be bade,

Could I abandon thee?
    Become a dying winter tree?
A honey-starved bee?
  Alas! What's left for me?

Many come, many go,
  To them all I say: No!
Not I act so to please you,
  You are not my beau...

Doing not so is fallible,
   Acting otherwise; unallowable,
To you I am pure,

The stream flows endlessly,
   Its waters taste of purity,
Shine with clarity,
   Its strength; Mighty...