Category: Poetry Sessions
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Looking back
He laid in bed unable to sleep. She remained fixed in his mind, the way the cold ear hugs the ocean breeze as it breaches the shores and travels northward and inland over mountains and buildings alike. It felt like a shaking, an unshakeable shuddering, though he did not feel it in his skin or…
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Slight Tears
The slightest tear can ruin fabric. Even as a child I had such a habit, Outworn soles, ripped jeans, worn shirts; The slightest tear makes dimes a penny’s worth. Everyone always tells me so! Even now they point their fingers and make jest, When there is a stitched patch, or a holed vest. The slightest…
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Prisoner to the Road
I have become prisoner to the road. It unwinds and turns into groves and onto lanes. It is this road that tells me stop and when to go. Stop! Stop! Now go! God damn it go! The people behind me will make quick the fact. Still it is me who drives, my wrists cuffed to…
Writings by Samson Mousa 