Tribute Poems
غزوة أحد - Poem
by مارون عبود
أحــدٌ سـبـيلُ الله سـيناءُ
الـنّبي الـهاشميّ ومصرعُ الأوثان
ألـواحُه هـبطتْ سطوراً مِنْ دم
لـما تَـناضَل عـنده الـحِزبان
يـمشي برايةِ أحمدٍ حزبُ الهدى
والـشركُ يُـزجِيه أبـو سفيان
فـعلا فـحيحُ المشركين كأنّ في
تـلكَ الـصدورِ جهنّمُ الأضغان
والـنوق سـاهمةٌ تـخبُّ هوادراً
يـحدو الـحنينُ بها إلى الأعطان
......
Brainiac
by Kevin Schroeder
BRAINIAC
In the pulse of noise, where chaos reigns,
Brainiac blurs the lines, defies the chains.
With rhythms that twist and melodies wild,
They craft a sound, electric and styled.
From Dayton’s heart, they carved their way,
A fusion of art, where shadows play.
In every note, a spark of the strange,
......
The Last Poem
by Kamal Nasser
Beloved, if perchance word of my death reaches you
As, alone, you fondle my only child
Eagerly awaiting my return,
Shed no tears in sorrow for me
For in my homeland
Life is degradation and wounds
And in my eyes the call of danger rings.
Beloved, if word of my death reaches you
And the lovers cry out:
The loyal one has departed, his visage gone forever,
......
قالوا الدروز - Poem by
by مارون عبود
قالوا الدروز فقلت جيل معرق
العقل دين والوفاء الموثقُ
والصدق شرعتهم فإن عاهدتهم
بروا وإن نطقوا بأمر يصدقوا
خلق الأسود متى يمس حماهم
وسخاء حاتم طيء إن يطرقوا
تمت مروءتهم فإن ناديتهم
طاروا إليك عصائبا تتدفق
ربضوا بباب الشرق خير ضراغم
تحمي العرين فأين منه الأبلقُ
......
To the Piano Player
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
O’ fingers so blessed and anointed,
how gentle, how feeble
are you on the teeth of the piano —,
the soft voice of elevated sound,
the scent of music wafting
through mute-listening clouds
and to the chords of the soul!
The essence of all this is to light up
the dark caverns of a distressed Testament.
The life of the piano player rests on the golden
......
Brainiac
by Kevin Schroeder
BRAINIAC
In the pulse of noise, where chaos reigns,
Brainiac blurs the lines, defies the chains.
With rhythms that twist and melodies wild,
They craft a sound, electric and styled.
From Dayton’s heart, they carved their way,
A fusion of art, where shadows play.
In every note, a spark of the strange,
......
David
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Michelangelo’s David . . .
Hmm!
I call it, reverently,
The Colossus of Florence.
It never tires of standing
Proudly, unshod and unashamed,
Like a discus-throwing naked prince of Greece,
Olympian and sturdy,
A true Adonis,
Showing off his small, gentle, rested penis
......
To the Piano Player
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
O’ fingers so blessed and anointed,
how gentle, how feeble
are you on the teeth of the piano —,
the soft voice of elevated sound,
the scent of music wafting
through mute-listening clouds
and to the chords of the soul!
The essence of all this is to light up
the dark caverns of a distressed Testament.
The life of the piano player rests on the golden
......
For John Lennon
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
At Penny Lane,
among Strawberry Fields,
which swished in global excitement
and superbly choreographed words,
came a voice deep and long —
a voice we will hear time after time —
the voice of John
a protest of Lennon.
Africa
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Africa,
I reconcile your genius with nostalgia,
perfervidity and relic lust;
your age with the whiteness
of a virgin void of earliness;
and your life with the tenderness
of the yolk of God.
......
