[ Kingdom ] 

Like a night creature that never stops

running

in the darkness 

it opens up to the rain

and the poem 

in continuous activity with meaning 

and the whispering of letters

and the wavering songs..

At dusk

he has his kingdom bustling with stories

and qinats and cups 

and the prolonged ecstasy

until the dawn gasps.

[ Tracing ] 

In a place free of light  

he appears like a stone thrown

by the roadside

like a forgotten tree 

like a bird pecked by storms 

like a temple deserted by candles 

like a lover whose beloved left

to another 

like a ship battered by water  

on the sea surface, 

he traces the letters

on the edge of the word 

searching for a poem  

that reciprocates the embrace.

 [ Desire] 

I have a box of luxury cigarettes 

and a filled glass.. 

O poem 

I fear anxiety will nibble my fingers

my only desire is you.. 

Wipe away from the mirrors of my mind 

the lingering fog.. 

this spot is devoid 

of pulse and the sparkle of stars.

[ Blessing ] 

What if your clouds drifted

towards my hills? 

For there are flowers that have wilted

and birds searching for a spring

and a heart yearning

for a green oasis. 

My fragile boredom is defeated

by your laughter 

and my night herds scatter

and my morning prevails 

and my days enjoy the blessing

[ Poet ] 

His capital - a poem

His daily gain - texts he writes 

The outcome of his wealth - books he read.

He does not care about his material losses

like wasting his time outside his isolation

and immersing in his experience 

He grows and evolves in his private worlds 

Diminishes and shrinks 

in his detachment from them 

to any physical work that does not benefit 

His mental activity 

prowls illusions

and stray words

and flowing images 

like a prophet receiving revelation 

and contemplating God's creations.

[ Care ] 

I have poems that make you

full of care :

A poem of wine that leads you

to intoxication. 

A food poem that fills your veins with nutrients. 

A wool poem that protects you from frost. 

A feather poem that your head rests upon. 

A cotton poem that your body lies on. 

A star poem that takes you to the sky. 

And a poem that can be a lipstick

and a mirror of your charms 

and the ribbon of your golden braids 

a bra for your prominent breasts

and another overflowing beyond your need.

[ To be a poet ] 

Listen to the birds

at dawn 

Take flocks of butterflies

to the fields

Fly far away with songs 

Dance to the rhythm of rain 

and the flash of lightning

at midnight 

Contemplate the moon 

Cry for a child begging for joy

Be happy for someone absent who returned

to their family 

Help your poor destitute neighbor

Patch up a disagreement between two friends

Regret the loss of a relative

or a stranger

Feed the birds and animals 

living around you.

[ Sterility ] 

The night twists the neck of my memory 

and takes me to the past. 

The earth is inhabited by sterility  

No trees

No birds

No phoenix bird

rises from its ruins.

[ At nightfall ] 

It looks like a tree

inhabited by birds .. 

Like a machine that never stops

playing..

Adorned with stars 

and flowers 

and colors.. 

From its letters emanates

the wine of meaning.

Abdul Ghani Al-Makhlafi - Yemen