Tag: reflection
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Flight
This year I took flight. Restrictions lifted, and then fell the social barricades. Soul and body traversed, both by road and astral plane, to those novel places that I once only imagined in my head. With happy thoughts, I held nothing back, and dove head first into a world, once pitch black. But light imbued,…
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Destined
Born in the season of the earth, my legs were made for dirt. A sole and righteous son, I felt destiny’s weight from birth. The wagon wheel is pushed as sweat bleeds through my shirt. Such feelings that are brined, in these poems they are unearthed. And in this life of mine, like mighty Hercules…
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Rewind
I see your smile looped on playback, Playing back like ionic tape magnetic. That smile charged with lyrics compact, I rewind the tape, lyrics all proleptic. Time has changed, two generations gone. The disc got scratched, a beat got skipped. I stream with streamers a newer song, From the mouth of clouds we drink and…
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Warmth!
Warmth! That’s how your presence felt, like fresh sunlight. And what skies I thought I seen, what clouds. Even the breeze had something to say. Those were the days of Wendy! Each step certain, like Jesus walking on water. And conviction blossomed like those flowers blooming in Anza Borrego fields. When food carts paraded down…
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Ajar
My door ajar, texts scampered in as if they were parcel tongues slithering in. They were powerful like the moon, my canine heart howled melancholic blues. Emerald eyes filled my mind, again, a single sentence brought back what once had been. Yet what had been to me was not what had been to you. Months…
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Once There Was Wendy
Once there was me with Wendy, in a time plucked back like bass strings before the drop. A picture once lived in my mind, before time spit it out like grass tore up in the hum of a lawnmower’s chomp. If honey is love, was our circumstance the bees? All day they worked, their tiny…
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Ruins
Do we really feel those memories? Are they remembered as they were? Can one remember how sweet the sugar was, before it burned — all that’s left is powdery black soot! Does the rubber tire wear its flattened grooves out of pride or self-contempt? I honestly cannot remember where the road diverged, or even where…
Writings by Samson Mousa 