Two Poems That Sing The Blues

I think I spent too much time on Scottius Polke’s “The Docks” as I have been singing the Blues ever since. Not all my poetry is inspired by Second Life and these next two offerings will be recited on Friday Night,March 4th at my reading  at “Kari’s Kantina del Mar” 7pmslt (see past post) I have chosen the music of Amr Diab singing “Tab3 El-7ayah” which basically means “Life is like that”  Depression and hard decisions are part of Life, and at one time, or maybe many times, everybody sings the Blues. These two poems were both published in 2010 in the USA in an anthology of a small group of chosen International poets. (please open the music link in a new tab to enjoy this great song while you read) Tab3 El-7ayah

"Big-holed sieve ... nothing of any value stays..."

Big-Holed Sieve
for O.

Each day passes right through without touching me,
Big-holed sieve … nothing of any value stays,
An entire starry evening goes straight down the drain.
What is the purpose of pouring
Into the porous leftover of my life
One more day?
Yet I know not how to leave you,
Certainly not how to make it right.
Repeated cliffs so high with your disdain
Block out all the sunlight.
Afternoon sulfuric rains
Maintain your kingdom dry and cruel,
It all continues to flow into me.
When I grab the air for anything,
I realize something was there…
Before it washed through me,
And was gone.

Karima Hoisan
2007 Jordan
©2010 all rights reserved

"I hit the street not like a ball but like an egg..."

When It’s Over
for O.

Once upon a lifetime
Your chest was the safest place to lay my head,
And wherever I was, you called it home.
Now even my sighs are irritating,
My smile grates on your blackboard of grievances.
When it’s over, we know it, don’t we?

Provoking is the new word of the week,
Everything wears it that swirls too near me,
One sentence of mine, a provocation,
Each “Could we just talk?” a cry to raise arms.
This and that, all provoke you into raging attack.
When it’s over, we know it, don’t we?

I pack some things just in case,
Feeling the fall- out of our poor love gone plop!
I hit the street not like a ball but like an egg,
Raw, cracked, cooking on the sidewalk
Of your hot abuse.
I look into the mirror,
Someone has grown so sad and worn.
When it’s over, we know it, don’t we?


Karima Hoisan
2007 Jordan
©2010 all rights reserved

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Live Shows, Poems and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s