i fettle the curves in the neck
and remorse plays on the strings of
my chords
the fancy love songs
and cherub blues you mourn, swoon
and swindle under my skin,
torn from a page lost
in fretful scorn,
a love-lorn loser who burns
like the scorched innuendo’s
you play on your horn—
a violin singing
a sliding trombone
beat to the drum
of your bluesy tone.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
revised 3/22
Photo by Joel Wyncott on Unsplash
And so it goes, and it came like this-
you may like it,
or you may not…
The crowd stops and gathers about
He stands tall and projects
Do not forget from whence you came!
It may be a long away flicker- but it burns like the embers
in the fires of life!
It means, that we will not lay down and die.
” For what greatness does this betray to lie down and die? “
The greatness of our land
the beauty and justness in our being!
The great land we know in Palestine.
‘Oh the tales he weaves
the shoulders he stands on
whirling dervishly
he sings, he shouts…
Victory is on our horizon.
Palestine shines like the ripeness of the sun on our olive trees
It shines in the pupils of our youth, in the spirit of our elderly
Palestine shines! Palestine rises! Palestine lives!
As the crowd spun around
pinned silently to
this sacred ground
entranced by his
profound sagely sound
he continued
aloud…
Palestine is burning, it is bleeding
in the streets.
The people are rising up
to face their enemies
Almighty fighters
who sacrifice complete
Complete sacrifice…
Until the sun is shining again
over the beauty of our Palestine
Palestine complete!
And in a misty, subdued haze
the crowd dispersed
into the forward gaze
of a poet left
in an unshaken state,
stepping down, for now
until further regain.
that’s the story of how it came to be…
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
#Poet #Palestinian
Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash
