Through My Face.....

in My face your eyes;
Shinning towards the sky all the time
My Glaring is a novel with thousands of chapters.
My hair is a forest of thoughts.
My eyes are decades of worry.
My lips are an open door.
My ears receive the howls of the wind.
My nose is a statue looking for lost spirit.
My body is too weak as Hercules was not,
My heart is arrested there searching for freedom.
My back is affected by the past as an ancient wall.
My hands are wings of bird have just escaped from a trap.
My feet are quickly driving me towards the future.
To nowhere I’m running without fixed level.
With this appearance could you understand me?

***

My face on the mirror;
I see a tidy man with sleepy sword.
Have a gaze at; it is so bright and deep.
Can you realize it?
What really goes on with this reflection?
Do not get disturbed;
Just give me that white pen.
I will write about your beauty.
I would show you some reality about this mood.
How mysterious am I?
Do not take me with you in this heat time,
Do not push me inside your dreams.
You will see such dusk.
Due to the night is so dark.
And I’m just a night bird.

***

My face on the stream;
Wet and dry, it is alternative all the time.
Do you like this race?
All this vitality…
Would travel away carelessly,
It is searching for oblivion.
Who has the key to save?
It is the destiny from the beginning and forever.
Not imagination but messy.
It causes some horror inside the core.
What is beyond the mountains?
The needles in the smooth path are confusing the soul.
But the soul is still running wild under lovely trees.
Trees are inside scary jungle.
Still there is a way in the land.
Though as for that events,
It is not systematized.
Hence, it causes the rebel.

By M’hamed Kanour Marrakesh   (Morocco)