Hope

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Mohamed Failali
Hope
Roulette
MohamedFailali.Com mohamed.failali_at_gmail.com
Story
Poetry
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A child    Sighing winds  Whispering trees
 Flapping wings  Yawning sun  Country
mornings  Awaiting fun  A child running
 After a butterfly  His cries rising  High
in the sky  Green meadows  Swarming with bees
 Pasturing cows  Mourning doves  Near old
ladies  Remembering loves  That became
stories  And the mad child  After his fairies
 Still running wild   Tuesday, March, 13,
2001  
These are so-called poems I have written among
others. I wanted to share them with the world to
spread a message of worry about humans in
general. English is my fourth language. Just to
give you an idea. So, please accept this present
from me and share it with as many people you
know as possible. I wish you success!  
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Dog's life   A child and a dog, Both lost in
the smog, Sharing almost everything, Bed,
meal and ceiling, Wandering in the night Out
of people's sight To fall asleep anywhere,
With no cover but their hair. A dog and a
child, together, Live, survive and suffer
Under the cold of winter. But people seem
colder When seeing both creatures That show
strange features, They go on walking As if it
were nothing. Wednesday, March 21,
2001  
Wooden hearts   He lies in the middle of the
road His wounds bleeding People around Just
keep watching With wooden hearts The curtains
down coming This is the end of a tragedy He
has just played his last cards To face such an
awful destiny Neither the wounds give up
bleeding Nor people give up watching  
Monday, April, 30, 2001  
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Martyr   She had just given birth To a nice
child She cried for all she was worth Then
she died She had always dreamt Of becoming a
mother Never had she felt Like living forever
But for the sake of her lover And the child
they would have together   Thursday, May,
10, 2001, 1640  
Hope   Looking desperately at the sky Not, at
all, aiming high, A Muslim refugee Wonders
where to flee. A child of not more than five
Obliged to keep hope alive In the face of so
many dangers Mines, missiles, hunger and
vultures. O lost son! I am so sorry I could
not calm your worry.     Saturday, October,
13, 2001  
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Shadow    That tear on your cheek seemed to be
 Like moonlight reflected on a quiet sea.  We
both were young and somehow crazy.  I was the
bee you were the daisy.    We were too young
to understand.  Our love was too weak to
withstand.  If only we could believe it to
succeed.  We chose the word we forgot the
deed.    Do you remember as I still do?  All
the wonder in this life was you.  Tell me if I
am mistaken or what.    Now you are nothing but
the shadow  Of a young girl I knew years ago,
 Something that lies deep in my heart.  
Saturday, 1, December, 2001.  
Ashes    Smoke rises in the air  As lost
souls fade away  After the end of a nightmare,
 War that let nothing  But ashes everywhere.
 A dead woman lying  On her cold child  Had
tried to save him in vain.  With her hands, so
tender and mild,  She wanted to cover him from
a fire rain.  Were they men or devils?  Those
who dared shoot both dead?  I am afraid, more
than wild animals,  They had neither a heart
nor a head.    Monday, 17 December, 2001.  
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Lies    With their snaky neck-ties,  They
pose before the cameras  To bestow upon us with
lies  About the best of all the eras.  Even
a child of less than ten  Can immediately
realize  The nasty trick and then  Lose
faith. Though wise  Politicians pretend to be,
 The result, at last, belies  All they
promised yesterday.     Thursday, 19 December,
2001.  
Keep your promises    What tomorrow may bring!
 Maybe everything, maybe nothing.  Just live
your present moment  And think of the best
present  You can easily give yourself  To put
it, then, in your bookshelf  With honor, joy
and pride.  Time is a vehicle you cannot ride
 Unless you keep your promises.  Otherwise,
you risk heavy losses.   Thursday, 27,
December, 2001.  
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Who?    Who wins when a mine explodes  And
an innocent child falls  On the burning ground
 Unconscious of the world around  To awake
after long hours  And see he lost his members?
   Tuesday, 1, January, 2002. (15h)
 
What?   Human waves flowing While the cannons
blowing. The widows wailing And the orphans
crying. What do they harvest, those who
send soldiers to burst down the innocents
houses and inflict upon them such heavy losses?
What do they win, those Who sell destructive
weapons? To rival nations or factions And,
thus, make their end close?    Wednesday, 2,
January, 2002.  
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One summer   She used to go down to the river
To fill her buckets with water. Like an
insane, I used to follow her. It was one lovely
summer. I used to anticipate her And jump
into the water. She would let me suffer. As
usual, I caught fever. She was a real wonder.
I was too young to gather She was to leave
soon or later. While I was thinking in wonder,
I was surprised by my mother You will no
more catch fever! Only then did I gather The
one I used to call Wonder Had just left
forever. Thursday, 3, December, 2002.
Game    He was a child with every right to
play. As usual, he was so glad that day When
the sky began raining with fire He was but a
child with a huge desire To play with children
of his age, Unaware of hatred, revenge and
rage. Another innocent among so many others,
Killed, mutilated or left without fathers. The
coward behind the handle is decorated in a
solemn act with all vampires invited to
celebrate the murder of innocent people in a
nasty, unfair and unequal battle.  
Copyright 2015 Mohamed Failali   ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED    
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When walking, I care about the ants on my way.
MohamedFailali.Com mohamed.failali_at_gmail.com