Poetry

Mustapha Maaroufi


Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 21 august 2024

A Woman

A woman passed by a makeup store.
The makeup saw her
Then he secretly asked the god for forgiveness three times
After that he went back to sleep the shelf.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 10 august 2024

Shirt

That beautiful shirt hanging
Above the face of the wall
Has the right to rebuke his collar
If it seizes the opportunity of the night
And goes too far in elegance
To the point of obvious exaggeration.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 9 august 2024

A Cat in The Public Street

And I said:
"For which sky do my suns travel
And convince the sea in my palms to be level?
Is there a sheikh in the tribe
of noble character
Who will exempt my mirrors from the whims of horses?"
Today I should scoop the mud
Under the old shadows
I have come to desire to be a neighbor of the lakes
To throw on the edge of the water a fertile project
To open one day in the face of our visions
Its high windows,
If one day I returned to the sea I will bless it
And sew a shirt of the beginning in his hands
Extend its waves with the dignified screams
To become later able to be
As it is
And not afraid if It wear bright shells on a holiday day...
_____
The cat ran secretly
To the public street
Saw a bus swaying
In arrogance
And saw a tower that continued to descend
And a woman who revealed herself
While he _ the cat _ began to doubt
About the extent of his ability to meow properly.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 31 january 2020

The Sun

The sun escapes from the daytime tiredness
To fall asleep in the night bed
And at the dawn
The day wakes up
To embrace it
And take it for its new journey.


number of comments: 4 | rating: 1 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 29 january 2020

A Position

For the wind
I will open my window
I am not inclining to the right side
There is a cough
A loss
As for the left side
I will remain waiting there
Under the green hope tree.


number of comments: 5 | rating: 1 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 19 february 2012

Machiavelli's Table

It is enough for the water 

To be a victim 

Of the murderous grass, 

And for this later 

To remain a stranger 

On the Machiavelli's table.


number of comments: 1 | rating: 10 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 7 february 2012

When The Time Slept On My Hand

The asphalt forgot the roses advent 
He threw the guise of orphanhood on the ground, 
And from the night water 
It started watering the passers-by's eyeballs. 
----------- 
When the  time slept on my hand 
The memory was frozen, 
Then the presence and the absence became equal 
In the view of  the eye sail.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 8 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 5 february 2012

A Newspaper

Today
 I read a newspaper, 
In it was half a column,
On a people starving and dying, 
The rest of it was : 
Photos, 
Crossword puzzle, 
And faded letters.


number of comments: 13 | rating: 17 | detail

Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 1 february 2012

A week of A Man from Our Time

Monday: 
He sharpens  his dream 
By the hone of the  illusion, 
Under his arm 
He put roses  
And a bit of of life's basils 
Then goes to his work. 
-------- 
Tuesday: 
He says to the beloved: 
Tomorrow, when  the dreams tree  leaves
On our stature,
And the light leapt smiling 
In Our eyeballs 
Humbly will come the sea 
And give  us its waves. 
-------- 
Wednesday: 
From the breast of the clouds he suckles
Five songs, 
And by the stone 
He slaughters the weathercock. 
-------- 
Thursday: 
He irrigates his memoirs 
With the water of trouble,
 In the evening 
He expectes to be kidnapped. 
-------- 
Friday: 
When he comes to the cafe 
He drinks from his cup
 A quantity of eulogies 
About the  members of his tribe,
And when he goes out  
He buries his misgivings in his pockets. 
-------- 
Saturday: 
He goes to  the city bar 
And behind him he pulls 
The chariot of the grief, 
Instills in the field of his body 
Seedlings of the wine 
To make himself melted. 
-------- 
Sunday: 
His feet take him  
Where the nightmares of the road are,
His eyes lurk among the passers-by.


number of comments: 8 | rating: 14 | detail


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