I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation; And I am silent; my murmur is dead, My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade, Hides in its depths the bitter exultation. ( Alexandre Poushkin )

Category: English

Tears of the cherry

by Clare L Rolfe
Tears of the Cherry is reflective of the rich and diverse trapestry of Morocco. It brings with it history of the people and religion and buttresses it against the angst of the modern day both in psyche and the political. There is the deep lament and pity for the Palestinian and Syrian and the entombment of woman who cries for freedom and love equally.
The natural world is a pervasive theme which intertwines with the fortunes of man both as nourishment and wealth but also its beauty. I remember the words of the Olive tree which illuminates and the call of roots in the lands of Zagora heritage.
These poems speak of reconnection to history and memory after the alluring lights of the west. This reconnection also brings with it the happiness of the familiar and the grief of old wounds as spoken in the Hustle and Bustle of Sorrows.

In silence


Fundamental Goodness
of a human being lies in one’s soul when its implementations exercises in one’s words and thoughts. I feel proud in drafting a preface on the beautiful poetry binder, “In Silence” by Larbi Houmaidi, a famous poet of heart, mind and soul from Morocco. I have gone through some of his soulful verses wherein I find a sense selfness prevailing in them with great zeal and zest. Most of his compositions speak of bitter truth of life that effects one’s heart mind and soul. They flow smoothly in their own steps without making a break in its ideology and sweetness of rhyme but somewhere sprinkle gloom shower upon his thoughts and themes those can be seen in surface of his some verses. His Pathetic verses are truth of human life and its moral values.
In one of the poem Mr Larbi writes

The female,
Eyes ,
Flow of tears
Holes ,
Eyelids of pain
Packets of flame
A blaze, …

so wonderfully expressed inner pain of a woman that is only possible when you feel at your own heart.
His poems are spontaneously combusted
those burn without flames. His characters, subjects and object involved do produce smoke and sustain self heating to burn themselves.On other hand, some of his poems speak of love, peace and humanity. While going through his poetry I feel as if I am involved too as one of his subjects. Recently I compiled a poem that reads…

When words run through
my soul, A verse originates in my thoughts;
That consoles my heart,
and energizes my body
my appearance;
Before it is placed in a dashboard of my reflection
of my satisfaction or of my
Likewise verses of Mr Larbi speak the language of silence and truth that needs no script since they come out of his heart and slip into the pages of his life.
I congratulate mr Larbi for his outstanding collection of poetry and wish him great success of this beautiful poetry book.

With thanks

Poet,Writer,International Author and Originator of Pictorial Poetry from Coffee Table. kcsethi@gmail.com

To my father

 whose blood was spilled in enemies’ roads

 And poured in bottles for blood-suckers.

To you, sir

  pain gets me at night when rascals sleep.

Mortals they are , immortal you are.

To you I dedicate this anthology.And As you always wanted , I’ll  keep on swimming in theparadise of words.

Larbi Houmaidi

Agony of words

a trembling bridge
you are
a ritual lake
of pale winds ,
a passage
for bare screams
in adulation nights
for women with
dormant sights
and bare feet
for sounds
lifeless , you are
On alter
Of depression streams.
a fling of winds , you are
between burrows and bars
doomed within sweeping paths
of pure blue sky
crispy golden sand.
wearing dust of pain
oh thou lost in orbit of blindness
and silent isolation
wounds won’t be healed
by pebbles.
longing fountain goes on
and … no
water glimmer
with withered stars light
ember of groan
labyrinth of thunderbolt
pending pieces
on longing murals
dull ghosts
you may be but I may not
what left
of peace mark

Page 2 of 2

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén