Like a dervish
I am flattered by poems, emotions,
spitting the coffee
in the longing coffee.
From the east,
the last gate of escape,
I looked upon us
in the froth....
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People
Raed Al-Jishi
Raed Anis Al-JISHI (poet, translator; Saudi Arabia) has published one novel, seven volumes of poems in Arabic and one, Bleeding Gull: Look, Feel, Fly, in English. Alongside a career as a writer, he teaches high school chemistry in his native city of Qateef. He is a feminist and human rights activist, and works on issues involving children and literacy.
Find Raed's Arabic social media (YouTube, Twitter, Facebook) at rabdaljishi. Below are links to his English accounts.
Author's Gallery:
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They vanished like our palm trees. Ancient open windows and old dreams. The city forgot their names while they held its memory in their soul like a candle ... media_text
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I am a Tuareg child. My blue turban drowns me in the waves of sadness, then expels me like seeds of ivory. O! great Tin Hinan, your brave knight lost his way among... media_text
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I roll up. I smoke the pulse of the minute. I inject my hand with heroin of love. No one can shut me up. My flying poems hide themselves in the pack of hearts, ... media_text
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It is my right to love as she wants it, to get ripped by desire when her necklace scatters the tears of pearls. It is a riot, and it is my right to love and die ... media_text
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And I see peasants singing along the milky road alongside a bull that didn’t know what a plow looks like. And beggars, desert sharpeners like a flock of cheating... media_text
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I have seen gulls,
in holy visions,
hover and invent
the sound of horses.
I have seen them
give alms to rats
hungry for crumbs of bread,
crucified on the altar.
I have seen them
flap their wings and swallow
common...
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My body regularly erupts and it hurts when it does but it terrifies me with its painful time delay. My legs don’t tremble my back doesn’t groan, and I don’t distort my... media_text
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Surrounded by the walls of memory with no lover and nothing to remember I mock my triangular cuffs and the illusion of hands in a circle. An iron cage of emotions... media_text
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When the distance to stillness becomes a ticket for the passenger and there is no other trip, the port of transfiguration is caught in desertification. Sound waves ... media_text
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The frozen water in my eyes, which was scratched by a cat of time is changing the spring I desire, my vinegary dreams, and the songs that love me into a one-... media_text
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Since the night of shooting stars, the night of travail, the call to prayer calms me. Some people chant, “Hale Loya.” It was the last supper and the birth of a certain death. My... media_text
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