The Wheat Fields
My mother said that the wheat fields are beautiful but I see its birds; they are black. Yes, the wheat spikes have come from the far east in a cold night and had seeded all this glory but when I go to our field I did not find butterflies and all our golden colors have traveled toward the gulf. Now you can understand my gray feelings and you can see all the black colors which cover my smiles.
The winter’s chants leave in our streets unforgotten memories. Their cold corners are
filled with silence. They freeze me as an old forest tree. Their wretched ships vomit the eternal pain and their snowy trains penetrate my ears. They hide me in this wide space as a strange end. They have deluged me in vapor so you find my words have dropped in the slime and my flowers have run away.
The Pain Land
All the moments of pain are just roads. They take my loneliness to a dark corner and teach it how to be familiar. The pain is a cold story dresses its colored veil in amazing twilight. No one can know the gray face of pain like Iraqis. No one can play the starring of eternal absent more perfect than my land. Yes, I am from here, the pain land. My father is the groaning and my mother is the weeping.
ANWER GHANI is an Iraqi poet and author. He was born in 1973 in Alhilla city. His work has appeared in Adelaide, Zarf, Peacock, Otoliths, Algebra of Owls, and others, as well as in the Inner Child Press anthology The Year Of The Poet. He is the chief editor of Tajdeed literary magazine. Recently, he published The Narratolyric Writing (Smashwords, 2017); Antipoetic Poems (Create Space, 2017); and TRUMP (Inner Child Press, 2017). He has also published 40 books in literature and religious sciences in Arabic. See more of his work at https://goo.gl/pivQsa and Author.to/AnwerGhani.