Walking To You

Walking to you
I lose count of the distance
as miles laps
into endless miles,
I lose count of the time
as days swiftly turn
to months, to years,
everything becomes
background and echo
and only you remain,
you, love, the focal point
around which all time and space
spin and converge,
you, the expansion in my heart,
giving my life
freedom and meaning,
filling each moment
with peace and ecstasy,
teaching me to live this poetry…

Pierre Mhanna


Haiku # 716

With poetry
I water the days
of my life


وحديَ في الليل
على ضوءِ الشمعةِ أكتُب
لامرأةٍ لا أعرِفُها


وحيداً تحتَ المَطر
منتظراً يدكِ
لتلاقي يدي

Seul sous la pluie
attendant ta main
pour rejoindre la mienne


Winter morning…
in the warm sunlight
a cat cleans itself


Spring morning
even the crows
caw happily

Everywhere I Look

Everywhere I look
I see people living
with borrowed faces,
their lives borrowed
and their souls,
speaking borrowed words
and craving feelings
that are not their own.
Everywhere I look
I see pettiness
and people dying
for an hour’s fame;
everywhere I look
I see addicts
and people enslaved
to their little phones.
I look around and I see
that the zombie apocalypse
so much prophesied
has already happened,
it is nothing more
than the regular individual
filled to saturation
with a content
that is not his own.

Free Verse # 460 (forgotten by the years)

Like the sun,
like a candle,
like fog,
like the waves,
like birdsongs,
like silence,
your face
as I hold it
inside my heart.


This poetry,
I labor to make beauty
hoping that one day
it will touch your eyes.


You and me
in a cabin
by a forest lake,
counting the leaves
as they fall,
forgotten by the years.


Perhaps I knew you
in another life,
for when I think of you
my spirit moves like water
and sunlight becomes
the face of my soul.


In my memory
I run through the fields
of my childhood
with the summer sun
warm on my face


Winter day…
in the distance
I hear your voice
rolling with the clouds

Wandering Thought # 132

You may forget your past, but it will always remember you.

It is on the power of our future that we construct our past.

Poetry is my response to an inhuman world.

Write less; say more. Ultimately, just listen to the silence.

In this life nothing was promised to us but death, the rest is what we make of it.

Solitude is the aura of great things.

Certain books, like certain people, can only be met at the right time.

A new book is a new journey.

Distance gives things their proper value, and gives us the needed perspective.

Discipline over freedom.

When all beauty is gone and faded, can you look into your lover’s eyes with fire in your heart?

When I think of you…

When I think back of your suffering,
of the images and moments
that never leave me,
when I remember the questions
that in your pain you asked,
why me? What wrong have I done?
When I see your eyes again,
and the look in them
as you saw your life
which you loved so much
crumble before you and slip away
although you wanted it to stay
with all your heart.
When I feel how year after year
you grasped at us and at life
with every bit of strength and hope
you had in your loving heart,
and your words of not wanting to die
and leave us still ringing in my ears
as your tears rolled down
as I held you and tried to comfort you,
telling you it won’t happen,
that we’ll find a way.
When I think of your strength
and faith and patience
and how you dealt with it all
blow after blow,
and how after each storm of pain and tears
you were laughing again
and trying to manage and elevate yourself
and embrace life with whatever you had.
When I think of that time I told you
that it should’ve been me, not you,
and you told me not say that
because you were stronger than me.
When I think of your unborn daughters,
the ones we told you you’ll have,
and that time on your deathbed
when you asked me if one day
I’ll name my daughter after you, Sarah.
When I think of time of our childhood
when we played in the fields
by the cemetery where you’re now buried,
and all the times we frequented
the river and mountain
surrounding that place,
never thinking for a moment
that me or you can one day lay there,
at least not before old age.
When I think of my life without you,
how, still, I am not finding a way to move on,
how I’ll never see you again,
not once, not ever,
how you will be missing from all
the events of my life…

When I think of you after all these years
you tell me that life must go on
and the poem must be finished,
you tell me to finish all the paintings
you wanted to create,
you tell me to be this love.

I smile and I kiss you.
I love you with all my heart.

Free Verse # 459 (كل ضجيج العالم)

كل ضجيج العالم يتلاشى عندما أسمع صوتك.


هي قصيدةٌ مكتوبةٌ بلغة
أرغبُ أن أُمضي حياتي
وأنا أُترجمها


في هذا العالم المجنون
يبقى حُبُنا ملاذُنا الآمِن،
فيهِ نكون نوعاً آخَرَ من الجنون،
فيهِ نكون أنا أنا وأنتِ أنتِ.


كأنّ قصيدتي تتلمَّس
دفءَ بَشَرَتِها


كلما مرّ لساني على شفتي،
أحسستُ بطعمها،
نبيذٌ أحمر، نارٌ، شعر،
كأن روحي قد ثملت
وهي تشرب من روحها.