Kareem Abdullah (Prepared Angela Kosta)
Moderator 
Kareem Abdullah
Kareem Abdullah, is an Iraqi poet and writer. He was born in Baghdad in 1962. Kareen Abdullah is the author of "Baghdad in Her New dress" ( 2015 Book House). His name had appeared in many imporant Arabian literary magazine and he won Tajdeed prose poetry prize in 2016.Kareem has eight poetry collections in Arabic and his poetry was translated for many languages.
A LEMON TREE // A SONG OF JUBILATION
The lemon tree piled her dry vibes, over there at the topmost tedium, the spring molded her into a glittering and warm crystalline, that melts tenderness, she is slender, delicate and intimate, fragrant jubilation glows in her dress clothing the nudity of her dry days, there is no way out for the night but to take off his sandals, and about her secrets roam, and lay his head on her quivering scent, two braids of listening stars, wave while topping her magical pride, out of her gloom, the lemon fragrance flows, swaying on the turquoise shores, while the murmuring of flickering sea decorating her, with twilight and daydreams hues. Her soft fluffy leaves in her armpits, dew hold, sunbathing on her translucent throne, kidded by the fluttering rainbow on her soft pillow. Every morning, her sparrows fly overhead, singing her the universe song, betting for life standing, as she gathers the nuggets of spring, and feeds her buds elixir of immortality. She wears the feathers of pink dreams, gleefully dances, flowing elegance, suspending wishes with alerted kisses, waiting for the season of meeting to wipe out the austerity of winter and make her evade the withering of hibernation, her features will shyly sweat, if love in her fasting heart flashes, while expelling sorrows out of her chest, her blooms ripen and reckon, if the handkerchiefs of dawn covertly tickle them, and the pulse in her deeper roots, increases, as the gleeful glitter of the pollen spathe appears, and her lineament ceaselessly exult, the fingertips of the tender warmth, on the peak, rejoice in bliss ,she still retains a beautiful smile that opens the doors of the morning adorned with silk, there is in her looks a drunken horizon, brightly hopeful, beneath her eyelids, the flowers hatch, and embrace her lights, freely loitering, breathing the fragrance of her innocent laughter, the seasons will inevitably listen to the roar of her loving treasures, as satisfying her starvation with nightingales' melodies, and changing the rituals of days, drooping the truthfulness steps towards her towers, inviting me to freely muse myself, as she grants me the crowns of her spring, she colors me.
PORTRAITS GUARDING THE SQUARES
They came back, again, to guard the squares, their guns muzzles were rusty and sand-filled, , the bodies dumbly deserted, they were deformed by the sun of the noon, leaving their military pockets empty for a wind to whistle in, and whisper in the streets memory, this refrain of the beloveds' songs colored me, as they were spinning the tales of the betrayed lovers in the vaults of days, traffic signs talked to them a lot, kindling their embalmed dreams … I as caning on my old age, gather up the shrubs leaves to stuff the starlings nests under their broad hats, always smiling, and the fuss of by passers soars high, while their features gradually go pale, even the yogurt seller, in their shade, cries out (Drink …Erbil Yogurt)* and the bags bulging of the hot yogurt are waiting for the paralyzed hands to wash what has been affixed on the ears of their bygone days.
*It is an imitation of martyrs'' portraits, as filling streets and squares.
*Erbil is a city in Kurdistan of Iraq, famous for yogurt industry.
*Polyphonic is a multi-voice language, modeled on music, where interlocutors and perspectives can be multiple and ideologies and visions can be differential.
*Erbil is a city in Kurdistan of Iraq, famous for yogurt industry.
*Polyphonic is a multi-voice language, modeled on music, where interlocutors and perspectives can be multiple and ideologies and visions can be differential.
Translated by me John Henry Smith.
A THREE-DIMENSIONAL TEXT
THE SOLDIERS OF GOD
THE SOLDIERS OF GOD
Heavily armed with their frustration, Your soldiers drag the metropolis misery before your authority that ends up in the blindest tyranny, violate their humanity and you do not know anything about the banks of supplication lounged on by her distant voice that comes to the ears of the sea, whenever the trees of alienation smile, the extensive face of night falls, lying there, ahead the soldiers as deconstructing my lavishing history on the tongues of the ominous war…. They led the leftover of dream crucified in your shining evening, searing it in front of the mockery of stations, elegized by the childbirth of a morning that sleeps on the brink of a glow of the waiting of my return shackled with rifles as tearing the whoop of the resurrection, tattooed on the wings of the colourful butterflies behind the glass of the bombed cars .
Translated by me John Henry Smith.
Kareem Abdullah (Prepared Angela Kosta)
