Aaaa

ROOSTER
NO ROOSTER in this red cage

The hieroglyphics on the Brussels wall reads.
My black box cannot decode those codes
Of identity Mrs. P.
I am a rooster from the Mediterranean

Chained in Tripoli for a season
Scathed with iron rods in a four feet box
Before I flapped those wretched feathers here.
Oh! I guess my patch is so sun tanned

May be, I am another log on the ocean
Where several fur of my kind tumbled
All in the name of grasping the blue skies.
Anyway, I know the golden coin will shine

On the tree that never bent its branches
Green leaves that never decays
I am unbreakable, sorry I was born this way.
BETRAYAL
You make me not want love
To harbour another kind of you
After stabbing me at the back.
The falcon claws the falconer too,

It's obvious how the sun hides behind the sky
I guess the soil suffers the smell.
I remembered the boat you sailed to Antwerp

The blue one, with long hue
Or can I call it a bandolier?
Your tassels were putrid

Fur scabby, crystal balls sickening
Like a fowl chained to a cage.
I don't blow my trumpets

Or beat my drums for the baobabs to dance
It's not a sap in my tendrils.
Well, since you want me to

It's not the Mount Everest
I gave you bread, tents and deer furs.
But today
you broke my feathers
Tuck golden sword edges at my spine.
Not only mine, other white doves too

And albatrosses, sparrows, ostriches
Howling Allahu Akbar.
Is it a terrible fate to blow sweet incenses

From crucibles of a golden tower
And the parsonages of Heaven's gate?
The grey hound once had white smokes

Foraging on green plantations with lambs
Until the hyenas poured its venom.
Anyway, I swam above the tides

But others didn't
Their trees dropped blood at grave sites.
Life is the best teacher

You live, you learn, you grow
With you, I have learnt one.
SANDVIKENS
When the tide stirred in Stockholm
You know it’s not the waves in Söderström
Kräppladiket, Igelbäcken, Norrån

But the smattering of copper-red villas
Pines, spruces , and toadstools at lakeside.
The town was split from Klemetsö village
With iron forgers, steel benders, Högbo Bruk, Göransson’s
Of deciduous forests, linden trees.
However that morning, the orange glow of the skies

Opened their curtains to the sparrows,
Red raspberries, woodland strawberries,
Common lilac and water hyacinths at the bay.
But the skies puffed in acres of blues
When a fourteen-year-old seedling thundered on graves
At the hemlock of a whistling pines
With velvet crimson flow of liquid, steady pour.
For a few seasons, it’s been darkness and starkness
Cracked mirrors, claws at the bottomless pits
Of maggots stench.
While the crown with the mast pointed their claws
At the hooting barn owls, the migrants
But they gave ghostly white faces
Of unearthly hoots and hisses.
Oj! Another sparrow has fallen in Sandviken pub
Some fingers at the barn owl.
Probably, a matter in the dark.
THE ISLAND OF LAMPEDUSA

You don’t know the worth of a golden coin
Until it’s taken away from you.
Ask those on the gusty dust of the Sahara
And they will tell you, the worth of your ivory.
It’s a common ground the soil of Lampedusa
Is blessed with picturesque yellow sand,
Carob trees, whistling pines, prickly thorns
And blue caved waves of oceans
Of barnacles, hermit crabs, and spoon bills.
But these gem- blue dashed waves
Are now left with floating bodies of black birds
From the deep azure of the Mediterranean blues
To sail to the bay of light
Stacked like sardines in inflated balloons
The one they called turnkeys
With the last drop anchor and Aesop swallow
However, a turn of tide, flurries of waves
Putrid feathers of the lyre on the coast
And those who survived, on bended knees
With ruffled feathers, blood shot crystal balls
From the terror of the gulags in Libya
Staring at the jagged empyrean vault
And, thumping to the haunting echoes of ravens.
Though in Lampedusa, the air is still fragrance
Of ciders, pomegranates, and almonds
The Saharan terns felt their plumage blends
In the passage rites of glowing fairies.

Aaaa

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ROOSTER

NO ROOSTER in this red cage

I am a rooster from the Mediterranean

Oh! I guess my patch is so sun tanned

Anyway, I know the golden coin will shine

The falcon claws the falconer too,

I remembered the boat you sailed to Antwerp

Your tassels were putrid

I don't blow my trumpets

Well, since you want me to

Not only mine, other white doves too

Is it a terrible fate to blow sweet incenses

The grey hound once had white smokes

Anyway, I swam above the tides

Life is the best teacher

Kräppladiket, Igelbäcken, Norrån

Of deciduous forests, linden trees.

However that morning, the orange glow of the skies

THE ISLAND OF LAMPEDUSA

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