Friday, October 12, 2018

Lonely Stars Hanging With The Moon

Ahmad Al-Khatat, Montreal, Canada
—Poems by Ahmad Al-Khatat


Daughter of death 

she inhaled darkness and 

exhaled the light of universe

she wears the colour of fall

and the skies become cloudy

With raindrops of forgiving water

she doesn't cry as much as I do

but she gets weak by the graveyard 

As she reads children’s names

her birthday is my depression day

grief weeps from reading about my joys

While joy cries from watching me in sorrow

she loves watching broken trees 

with branches all over my bleeding arms

her favourite meal is the homeless dinner

her heart beats with the gravedigger’s work 

standing next to him, shamelessly drunk

from collecting all parents during the war

she laughs from watching their kids 

I asked her to be fair and feed the orphans

she feeds them with Eve’s poison apple to die



Today, half of a yellow sun arises 

due to the civil war that forces the

kids to use the kite with sharp knives

to cut the other half to feed themselves

one thousand days of pure darkness

knowing what to kill and forgetting what

to eat by the bloody wall of my neighbour

whom I try to save his soul but he died firstly

nothing belongs to me anymore in here

young teenagers walk with the lifetime crowns

meanwhile, I run after my shadow just to

survive another day far from the death direction

I learn a new language to smile longer

I work with less pay since I have no dreams 

yet, I see my days are wearing my griefs

just so I feel my aches in every autumn season



Into the water of the blue river

I see my details without a shadow 

my face has a look of a dry leaf

with my back straight as the mountain

happiness is the missing puzzle

to express how wonderful my life is

lonely stars hanging with the moon

like myself lonesome around strangers

Living in another city, not my own 

with the future somewhere in my coffin 

seeking for attention of the zombies 

to eat my bones, to gladly drink my blood

Let me go without saying anything 

since nobody understands my misery 

when I travel back to the old days when

I thought I would be happy and not crying

I am alone by the whiskey and the 

pack of cigarettes that together create

invisible friends, who will enjoy watching 

me reading my last words before I die alone


Today’s LittleNip:

—Ahmad Al-Khatat

You know that I miss you 

but I truly believe that your

spirit has been by my yearning
in which, when I cry my tears 

will come from my sad heart 

and not from my giant brain


Many thanks and welcome to the Kitchen to Ahmad Al-Khatat, who was born in Baghdad on May 8, 1989. From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote his first poem back in the year 2000. He has been published in several press publications and anthologies all over the world. His poems were translated into Farsi, Albanian, German, Chinese, and Serbian, and he currently studies at Concordia University in Montreal. Ahmad recently published two chapbooks:
The Bleeding Heart Poet and Love On The War’s Frontline (Alien Buddha Press), available for sale on Amazon. Most of his new and old poems are also available on his official web page, Bleeding Heart Poet ( and on Again, welcome to the Kitchen, Ahmad, and don’t be a stranger!

Tonight in Davis, the Jack Kerouac Poetry Prize presentation and reading will take place at the John Natsoulas Gallery, 7pm, in anticipation of tomorrow’s 11th Annual Davis Jazz and Beat Fest. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.


 Ahmad Al-Khatat
Celebrate poetry!

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