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Best Poems From
LAALA KASHEF ALGHATA
(18 February 1990)
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1.
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Broken Hearts
She made to spit her heart out
into her waiting hand,
a half an inch away
from curling into a fist.
I grab her by the shoulders,
look into her eyes,
tell her she's beautiful,
wonderful and that I love her.
I grasp her chin in my hand
make her look up and see
the world, which is so in love
with her. Her smile, her laugh
and the way she's always ready
to stick her tongue out.
She breaks down and I hate
to see her so desolate,
so defeated. She is Napoleon
at Waterloo and I wish
it were otherwise
or that it were another time.
I hug her, make her promise
to never spit out her heart.
It's too precious, I tell her.
She looks at me, doesn't reply.
Laala Kashef Alghata
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2.
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Children No More
We are told to live and let live
and forget about the future,
for now we are children,
we live in the present.
We are champions, us writers
and painters, the footballers
and actors, every child
with a dream or without,
we make up the world.
Like doll's houses, we live
in a plastic world, surrounded
by things we don't want or need.
We see blood and we scream,
call for help, forgetting to check
whether the person's alright
first. So we collapse beside them,
our voices dying, our lips frozen.
We fight for freedom of speech
and hear them label it propaganda,
our voice dissolves into tears
and we cry our heartfelt speeches.
We watch the news and see
our people dying, the scarlet
paint (which is not paint)
in a neat line around their mouths,
almost as if we've skipped
a channel too far and landed
in the middle of a movie.
We watch the destruction
and in our frustration and defeat,
turn away, trying to do away
with these images. We throw money
at the problem, but it will not go
away, and though we are safe for now,
for how long will our roofs remain?
Sleep tight, child, you hear
mothers say, and you wonder
if you are not young enough still
to be tucked into bed, are you old
enough to handle the truth?
So the next time they say,
live and let live, you say no.
I want to live stronger, better,
help those who I am supposed
to let live. You say, I am the future
and the future is now,
because the past is the present,
is the future. We are children
no more.
Laala Kashef Alghata
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3.
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Crimson Death
Shock. Horror.
A fresh wave of grief.
One shot. Two shots.
Two people. Dead.
Blood.
Bodies left for the shadows
to indulge.
Death:
metallic,
bitter.
Anger and frustration.
Those soldiers had no right.
I cried a river of blood;
in this goblet, a few drops,
crimson.
Mr. President:
Drink.
Laala Kashef Alghata
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4.
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Dali's Rose
(Inspired by Dali's Rose Meditative)
The rose hangs in the air,
in the balance of probability
bleeding beauty gently
into its surroundings,
and whoever loved
that loved not at first sight?
Stemless, its petals fold back
and I want to climb into its womb
and dissolve in its softness,
forget the world while hovering
in the sky with no visible means
of support.
There is a dropp on the petal's lip
and my cheeks are wet.
Laala Kashef Alghata
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