Poetry - الشعر

[منتظر النايف]

Yours! ما شاء الله.

You are talented, by the way. You have nice ideas and apparently you find a nice way to put them into words.

Yes, practice will certainly improve your writing abilities and will also polish your poetry-writing skills.

The one below is another nice piece. If you work on your spelling, you'll have far better results.

If I may reproduce it, it may read something like this:

I'm back again
In my sad room.
Oh yeh, in my room again.
locked in within four walls,
And my heavy pain
Again, one more time.
I'm living in the dark,
together with bane,
But my thoughts are still away,
They are there,
Flying like a flock of birds,
With her,
Away with her,
And I would like her to know
That things have changed.
And I'll never be me again,
I shall never cry.
I am sorry,
I feel so sorry,
I feel like I'm going to cry,
To cry again:
A part of me is still hanging away
With her,
Not me.

You see, even after I rewrote it this way, what you wrote in the first place is still more beautiful and true because you wrote it from the bottom of your heart.

What I am doing her is not correct your structure or grammar or manipulate your feelings and thoughts but rather show you how perhaps you could write if you just write and rewrite and rewrite until you think this is the best that you can come up with. You can start writing on a word document to make use of the AB spelling checker.

I have enjoyed reading your poem a lot and I feel proud that I have met someone gifted like you. Keep up the good work and I'll keep reading for you.



-----

...I have back again

...to my sad room

Oh yeh, I am room agein

whith 4walls locked door

.and my heavy bain

Agein, One more time

, I have to live the dark

.I have to see the bane

But my mind is not coming with me

It stays there

Flying like abird

!?But where

Just around her

And i would that she know

Every thing is change

even my mien

And i well never cry again

Oh, so sorry

Really I am so sorry

,Now i feel that

I am going to cry again

.And again

Because a piece of me is ther

.Not coming with me again

----

بشر يا دكتورنا العزيز عساها مقبولة معنى ومبنى. وتذكر أن أنجليزيتي ليست ولا بد .. إذ أننا نفتقد الممارسة ، وأنت تقدم لنا خدمة جليلة بأن نستعيد بعض الذي مضى، فجزاك الله عنا كل خير.

تحياتي.[/quote]

[الغزير]

أحمد الله تعالى وأشكره على أن نال إعجابك ما خطه قلمي المتواضع..

وأشكرك يادكتور جزيل الشكر

وأنا جدا سعيد بمعرفتك

وكلماتك وسام أفخر به ، فجزاك الله خيرا .

تقبل أزكى التحية وأعطرها..

[منتظر النايف]

A Message


I sat in the evening

To witness the turning of the azure sky

Like a sorrowful tear

.Shed on a rosy cheek from a drowsy eye

Odor and nectar

:The wind carried from her unearthly residence

;Virginal is her smile

;Rejoicing are her eyes

.Frightening is her silence

;Eternal is my love

;Reposing are my words

.I am sublime

Regretful is my soul

:To love who shall never be mine

,A dreamless, charming, delicate

;Titivating, elegant female

;Nymph-like and sublime

.By Allah made and spoiled for another male

,All vanishes but her feminine voice

.Which rings in my ears from time to time

19 April 1996

[الغزير]

اقتباس المشاركة الأصلية بواسطة : منتظر النايف A Message I sat in the evening To witness the turning of the azure sky Like a sorrowful tear .Shed on a rosy cheek from a drowsy eye Odor and nectar :The wind carried from her unearthly residence ;Virginal is her smile ;Rejoicing are her eyes .Frightening is her silence ;Eternal is my love ;Reposing are my words .I am sublime Regretful is my soul :To love who shall never be mine ,A dreamless, charming, delicate ;Titivating, elegant female ;Nymph-like and sublime .By Allah made and spoiled for another male ,All vanishes but her feminine voice .Which rings in my ears from time to time 19 April 1996

This is wonderful

[منتظر النايف]

اقتباس المشاركة الأصلية بواسطة : الغزير This is wonderful

.You think so? Thanks

Writing poetry is not a big deal. For me it is easier than writing an
.article or even a short essay

The idea is that when you express your feelings towards everything around you, what you get in fact is poetry. Poetry is language filled with emotions. You probably need to choose certain words that carry deeper meaning and perhaps you also need to make it
.attarctive to the ear. It doesn't have to rhyme to be called poetry

For example, if I want to describe my day today, I need to focus on
.what feelings in my heart I can express into words

I may feel tired at the end of the day, so I will look for either an expression in English that can convey meaning or search for an
:image that speaks for itself. So, I may say

.So worn out at the end of the day I seem to be

,Or

Like a tired bee going back to its hive
At the end of the day, I sank into my bed
,And to my murmuring soul I said
."Sleep babe, sleep. Al Fajr prayer is just after five"

I do encourage everyone who knows English - not necessarily very well - to start expressing their emotions in simple lines. Once you
.love it, you will go on and on

[منتظر النايف]

.هذه قصيدة عن فلسطين الحبيبة و عن وعد الله عز و جل أنها ستعود لنا

كتبتها قبل نحو 15 عاما و ألقيتها في أمسية شعرية للأشعار باللغة الإنكليزية في قسم اللغة الإنكليزية في جامعة دمشق سنة 1997

في القصيدة الشعرية ذكر لأكثر من 20 مرجع أدبي من مسرحية، و رواية، و قصة قصيرة، و شعر، من الأدب الفلسطيني و الأدب العربي، و الأدب الإنجليزي، و الأدب العالمي القديم و الحديث، و فوق ذلك كله أختم القصيدة بترجمة آية من سورة الإسراء من القرآن الكريم يعد فيها الله تعالى نصر المؤمنين و
:دخول المسجد الأقصى

The Promised Land



,Everything comes straight under the light
.But matters are only solved at night
,Words are merely a pretext for delay
:But within is colored the story of one day
;When man lives and dies and then does arise
.When prayers unto Allah willingly do the wise
,These words condemn none but those of vice
,Who grudged and refused their Maker’s advice
,Who teased and the son of man tortured
.Who shall be defeated and at last crushed

,My story in the past begins
.And in the future ends
,It happened in the land of ghosts
Where one hears no sounds
But the wailing and gnashing
.Of the teeth of the wondering shades
It began when I woke up in the wounded land
Like a frightened lamb
.Roving alone in a waste of rushes
My feet carried me with frightened steps
,To a place where all external nature seemed in a storm
.Where the poor naked wretches sat alone
Nothing would have subdued nature to such destruction
.But the shades of the shades around the molten calf
:The scene amazed me while I was crossing the road
!A blaze at night
.It was breaking the quietness of darkness
;Sounds of crashing around the flame
;Snakes crawling everywhere
,Inexorable dogs howling in the place
.Leaving it waste and wild

;Time passes like a candle lit from two sides
,Each tries to stay in the middle
.But death in fire hides
From a distance I can draw
:The picture my tears destroy
,It looks like Munalisa with a smile
.But never a smile is a hint of joy
The truth is light
,That burns to make darkness visible
But so many invisible souls become visible
When souls in hands are carried
,And thrown into the valley of death
.So only then they rise ahead to die again

,They say that what is out of sight is out of mind
?But do the scars from heart vanish
?Or should one repay insolence in kind
,Yet which is more horrifying, sir
,The sight of empty skulls
?Or of withered hearts
For those who I scorn
Are born headless
.And nursed with no hearts
;They buy; they sell
;They take; they kill
But I’ve never heard
.They give for their will
,Where they dwell, cruelty dwells
For their desires
.Are wolvish, bloody, starved, and ravenous

!Ah, sinful nation
;You will be smitten with a scab
,And there shall not be left a stone upon a stone
And shall tap my children thy doors
.With innocent stones
.He that is without sin, let him cast a stone
.The children do
,A stone the innocent throw
.And the kingdom of Allah they shall be into
,Be damned those who sell their lands
.Be damned the shaking hands
,It is only when my soul dwells in a heartless cage
,Having a deal with my murderer
Forsaking all the principles
,I have nursed from my mother
It is only then that I can pretend
I have forgotten all horrible scenes
From which we’ve learned not to yield
.But to fight till the end
,So when the second of warnings comes to pass
We shall enter the temple
.And shall Jerusalem compass

1993–1994

[منتظر النايف]

A Call from a Smiling Heart



,Hearts, normal or tough, on blood do feed
.Except my heart, which feeds on love, the sweetest seed
:Mine is like glass
.It shows not what’s in, for light through which can pass
,My heart can never be a mirror
For mirrors show seekers all sorts of horror
:And change faces as many as they meet
.Clean with the clean, and cracked in weeping eyes
Mine always smiles
.At people as far as thousands of miles
It always hopes that other hearts
Join it in smiling since it is never hard
.To make others happy when they see your smile
Hearts, normal or tough, on love should feed
.Since love, witness I, is the sweetest seed

14 March 1997

[هاوي بر]

والله اسمح لي يا منتظر تراني بالانجليزي ::صفر:::