Seeking Refuge

 

—Poetry by Dr. Anissa Sboui, Sousse, Tunisia

—Photos of Lotus Flowers Courtesy of

Public Domain

THE HORROR OF THE INVISIBLE ENEMY

Where is the fury?
Can’t see the jury
Life is simpler than
One may imagine
An enemy walking in the air
Is sent for a historic affair
The human engine
At stake
That’s what the enemy’ll shake

Life’s simpler than
One may envisage
An enemy, tramping through the city,
With free footsteps
The human verbalization,
Aphonic like a choked kitten,
Hit by a tipsy tomboy,
Holding grudge against a goofy girlfriend,
As ugly as Bruce Jenner,
Baffled like a betrayed spouse
Darted by pandemic spears
The chest’s lenses, the defunct ones,
As their defenses are put up for auction

Life’s simpler than
One may fancy
In the Hubei Province,
Like petrified shrubs,
Rambled everywhere
Kim, with the white uniform
Heads to the Feast
Not to taste bats
But to reach the Yellow Crane Tower
In the Jianghan Plain,
The umbrella holds his hand,
The rain, the crown-like spike,
Is filling the contagious ground.
Worried, Kim is.
The horror of the invisible enemy
Haunts his senses
Wet, he flees not
His terrified shadow,
Hides behind the tall building
Cleans the shivering fingers, still
Scratching the palms
Peeling the invisible pandemic
The soap shrinks to the half
Still the enemy is
Following Kim,
Catching him
Can only alert him to the visible destiny.

 

 

 

 

 

THE DEATH BOAT

Deserted, barren
Our Homeland is
Thousands departed,
Jumping into the void
Heading to nowhere
Exacerbating despair
Loss of hope
Desire to unchain the suffocating rope
Soliciting quick wealth
Caring less about health…

Capital Flight
Jobless creatures
Seeking strength
To sustain the dignity
In vain
Sailing on board
The deadly boats
Oblivious of horrible outcomes,
Shaggy, rugged features
Ragged clothing,
Not wearing coats.

Some well-to-do take selfies
Smiling faces
What a dour mood!

Crammed in a rickety boat
They want refuge,
The aspiration is huge.

Illegal entry,
Clandestinely crossing borders
Out of bitter boredom.
Invasion of the unknown,
Fighting danger
Is it the way to a day?
There is no compass
Nothing to say
But the ocean to bypass…

Death knocks on the door
From forty they become four
Fish fed on their flesh
Arms and legs to devour.
To be frank,
Their dreams sank
What a dreadful hour!

 

 

 

 

 

CLEOPATRA

Above the grassy knoll
Pharaonic Egypt flourishes
Keeping Her alluring charm
Spots of glamour sweep that blatant filth    
The moon rises from the shades
From mummies wrapped in plaster
Her sunken cheeks are paler
Dabbing them with pink powder
Moving to her lipsticks
Sifting the color
Gently filling the two lips
An all-rounder.

“Oh, mirror! I look gorgeous
I am the Queen, the glory of my father
To meet Caesar, I am eager.
No need for the papyri…

Oh, Serapis!
Alexandria is getting High
Welcoming the Empress
With Her lover, invader
Who will make Her come”

 

 

 

 

 

DISRESPECT TO INJECT

London Eye
Is the witness,
Deep sigh
Happy sadness
For cruel clumsiness

Quietly
Leaning to the edge,
Selfying my beaming feature,
“Oh, silly creature!
Make your own fedge
Cater for your hedge”
A mean voice alarms…

Notwithstanding the crowd,
Bearing not the cacophonic sound,

To a remote place,

Detached,       I was,      with a smiling face
Catching a panoramic view
The spot is new
People around were very few
Pacifist I was,
The witch jeering:
“Hey, go away, retreat
Move back on feet
I take this picture!!”

My hands cripple
The agony is ample
The hurt isn’t simple
If only I could remove blind pimple…

The voice of disrespect bubbles up,
Slamming corridors of decency,
Dropping curtains of courtesy
Widening the doors for stumbled shock

Hold on, dear, to the stirrups
Please flee this indecency,
Slapped, humiliated you are
Quaked pride.
Infusion of bactericide, singing
In tune with arabinocide…

What a shame!
The witch is to blame
No mercy,
No sincere apology,
Not even sorry
For causing pain,
Adding fuel to the fire
Nothing to do but to attire
While hurting again and again …

 

 

 

 

 

BACK TO HER ARENA

Back to her arena
Listening to A.L.A. or Master Sina
Fathoming the daring lyrics
About the country life or the Medina.

Back to her arena
Daydreaming if one day
She can write like Noaima
Or Hanna Mina.

Back to her arena
Quenching her thirst
For playing the racket sport
Wishing to win like Sharapova
Or Williams, Serena.

Back to her arena
Amazed at the power of Eva Peron
Enraptured with mounting prowess
Captivated by the female resistance
Long live Argentina.

Back to her arena
Enraged, roaring like the wind
Now she does understand
To devastate the same way as
Hurricane Katrina.

Back to her arena
On a foggy day
On a deserted way
With the light fading away
Science is not hearsay
Now she aspires to follow in
The footsteps of Ibn Sina.

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.

—Plato

___________________

Our welcome back and thanks to Dr. Anissa Sboui today, as she tells us in poetry what it's like in her part of the world. And a reminder that the online tribute to Gary Snyder takes place this afternoon, plus an online Sac. Poetry Alliance organizational meeting that is open to all. You don’t have to be in the NorCal area to check these out! Just click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about them and about other future readings in the NorCal area.

___________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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