Sunday, October 23, 2005

The Dream Has Gone.

Open your eyes.
The dream has gone.
There's nothing to add
After what has been said 'n' done.

We know it was not real.
But we lived it all the way.
We ignored the deal
And now our hearts sway.

Beat after beat repeat
It's getting more serious.
Therefore if we move our feet
People surround us'll get curious.

Everyone wanted to know
What was going on.
We ourselves won't know
Until we forget it and move on.

May 1st 2005

Saturday, October 22, 2005

An Art Course

I know I have been away for a while but it's and only Ramadan nor our moving to a new apartment but I'm taking a two months art course. I thought of it first as way so as not to waste my time and second because everybody says I'm talented. I believe I have talent but I need to increase my ability.

I had always liked painting and playing with mud and such things but I thought every child and eventually every one likes to do so. But I never bragged I painted something good or sculptured a face or so. My family and friends noticed I am gifted and encouraged me to keep on.

As I am doing nothing in UAE except thinking, not even trying, to get a job and waiting for a scholarship; I decided to take this course. I am taking 5 hours a week painting, 3h sculpturing, 3h ceramic, 3h graphics and one hour History of Art.
I'm enjoying the classes and doing great.

In painting we are still working with graphite (pencils) sketching shapes and their shadows. Tomorrow we'll hopefully start to draw still nature. I like painting class so far.

In sculpturing we are just shaping whatever we want. The whole class started to make bodies and most of them women but for me I sculptured a head. I thought it looked like my cousin who I haven't seen since 1994 I think but who ever sees it says it looks like Saddam Hussein! Shocking, right?

I hated ceramic first because the mud is different from the one we use in sculpturing. It's a lot harder. And the instructor asked us to do a silly basket by making robs and then put them on an oval-base mud. My basket was the best. I even made some flowers to put in it.

I just want to add something here. I'm not bragging about my talent but those who are with me in the course are Indians and only 3 Arab girls. Most of them lack the sense of beauty.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

For the English teachers in all of us:

If teachers taught,
why haven't preachers praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables,
what does a humanitarian eat?
There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger:
neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
Quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
If the plural of tooth is teeth,
why isn't the plural of booth beeth?
One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2

Saturday, October 15, 2005

An Open Book

Just like an open book I am,
Welcome readers with open arm;
Still waiting for the right reader,
Who's smart and look deeper;
For they only read the lines
And grasp not the meaning implies.

Just like an open book that tells stories
About man kind and sometimes about ferries.
Each story has a moral hidden lesson
Tries to help you to your conscience listen.
If you read it and still hear nothing;
Then your senses from you are stolen.

Just like an open book with many pages,
My life has days, years and many stages;
Some had tears, fears and sadness
Yet had smiles, hopes, and happiness.
During all this still there was love
For the heart cannot be imprisoned dove.

Just like an open book that must end,
My days would certainty have an end.
And my God shall raise me up
To drink from the immortal cup;
Yet I am on earth and I have seeds
To plant and add more good deeds.

Just like an open book I am
Will never reveal anything by time
Critics may say what they want to say
But for my stories there will come a day.
As any reader you demand to know it all;
Then you'll have to be committed to thy role.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005


Hi again...
I was chatting with Morbid Smile the other day and we talked about many things and we mentioned how one's writing can reveal if he/she is pessimistic or optimistic. Here I remember Voltaire's Candid the most famous satire, about optimism. It's a sarcastic work about optimism. And as we nowadays are familiar with Tsunami and the earth quakes I recall my professor's words about that.

Imagine that there could be an earth quake and thousands of people are dead others are injured or missing. The Optimistic point of view would say "earth quake!! What's wrong with that?? "

"Thousands dead"
"Everyday people dies and they are replaced by newborn babies. That's why God created us"
"Thousands are injured"
"They must have done something really bad and God is punishing them"
"Others are missing"
"Missing! They might enjoy their adventures, they will tell us great stories about that when they will be found"
"What about the destroyed houses and homeless people?"
"It's a good opportunity to have new homes, they had old fashion homes."
"What about the streets and ..."
"Wait ... wait ... STREETS? We need new streets we need a new infrastructure. God make this for our own good. Everything is for our own good."

He then added things about the wars and tsunami. Then we students start to add stories and laugh.

Can you believe those people??!! I really added things myself but the lecture was really that fun. You should see him when he explains the clowns in Shakespeare's work. I just like this professor.

By the way he is in his 80s.


nothing new


It has been so long since I wrote something. No poem. No story. Not even a line. I feel I'm doing nothing without writing. It's not that I don't have thoughts but all the thought come to me before I sleep and I say I write them tomorrow. When the morning comes it washes away every word I had in mind.

The show is going on but stand in the same place. No scholarship. No job. Just sitting at home, doing nothing. I'm sure that's why I have nothing to write.
When I was in Baghdad I used to write what I feel about anything moves my thoughts, about life, love and struggling to reach my goals. In Amman, I used to write about my sufferings away from home and the beloved. And I write about the struggle within my brain missing home and wishing to leave Jordan.

BUT here in the UAE, living with my parents, I feel I lost my independency. After I was an independent person now I have to go back to the family life. It's so hard.
The only thing I know now is that this is the first time I live apart from my sisters. Away from both of them. I lived about a month without my eldest sister when she left to Jordan with my mom as a first step to get us all out of Iraq after the occupation. My dad stayed with us. My little sister had to finish her last year in high school. AND I... was waiting for a reply from San Antonio community collage, which I got positively… but didn't go to the States. Instead… I went to Jordan. I'm not going to anything here. The two years I lived there had joys and pain.

Back to the subject, when I left to Jordan I lived with my eldest sister away from mom, dad and my little sister. A year latter, my little sis joined us and we lived alone, the three sisters, in Jordan.

So I know what does it feels like to live with both of my sisters alone and together. Now I miss them both and I live with mom and dad. This is so hard as I said before not because of them but because I had my own life in these two years. Add to it that my grandma is visiting from the Stats but doing feel sorry for me... she is not the kind of grandmother that some people hate. She is a floating angel. And the BIG news is my uncle, his wife and my three cousins are coming form Germany in two weeks. I'm really excited about that. Don't think about it in a twisted way… my cousins are kids… AND… I'm DONE with cousins.

I wanted to talk about the occupation of Iraq and the situation out there but who am I to talk about that. I left Baghdad six months after the invasion. Most of the people I know who are still there told me to be thankful I left early so I can still keep the beautiful images of Baghdad.

Oh how I miss Baghdad, the family and just driving in its streets. But sure driving in old Baghdad's streets. No tanks, no occupation armies.

Then what?

Monday, October 10, 2005


I have nothing to write but i was thinking how we, Iraqi people, are wanderring around the world. I'm sure you wandered in more placed.

so here it comes

I lived in 3 countries:
Iraq (home)
Jordan (studied)
UAE (my residency now)

I attended many schools:
First generations (2 years)
The Red Palace (2 years)
Music and Ballet School (7 years: 6 primary & 1 secondary)
Nidhal Secondary School (3 years)
Baghdad High school for girls (2 years)
Baghdad University / collage of Art/ English Literature (2 years)
University Of Petra / collage of Arts and Sciences / English Language and Literature (2 years)

I lived in many houses
The first one I don't recall I we lived only a year there and I was one year when we left. It was in alsaydeeya.
Then we lived in 28th April project in Al Saliheya area. (1984-1992)
Then we moved to a house in Al Qadisya area (1992-2003).
But we reconstructed the house and I moved to another room in 1997.
In 2000 we reconstructed the house again and I moved to another room.

A flat in Al Rabiya area October 2003.
Another one in the same area in 14th February, 2004 (I remember it was valentine and it was the first time I see snow in my life).

Still the same building in Al Sharija.

Then what!

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Just Take It. Pay and Leave.

I don't really know if I was walk-sleepy or sleepwalker. I couldn't understand anything around me. It felt like a dream. But I felt every single movement. I heard them talk. They were pointing towards me. Everything arouses my suspicions. There must be something wrong.

The images were unfocused. It was dark but yet everything shined. It was cold but I felt sweaty. It felt like a fever. Am I real? Or let me say were they real?
I felt the ground muddy but it was a blue fitted carpet! With every step I felt my feet sinking. Should I go farther?
I have to go in... Should I wait?

I searched in their eyes trying to find a familiar look. I know no one…

I got to the counter… I have to ask… or should I search and then ask… I'll make a fool of my self if I did. But what's the different if I did not. No I have to ask.

Should I say hi first? Or should I say something else? What if he says no? should I ask for something else? Oh. Where is every one when they are needed?? Who am I fooling? I have none.
I'll say it now. "Do you have…inkpot?"

"Yes, you can find it on the left side of that shelf."

Running to the shelf, I feel invisible. Lifting the first one my eye caught I realized that there were many kinds. Which one should I take? Keep it in your hand and just pay... what's the different between this one and the others. Should I ask? No, no. Just take it. Pay and leave.

I wrote this after I read Virginia Woolf's short story THE NEW DRESS ..
Tke kind of writing is called stream of consciousness.

You can find it here..

Monday, October 03, 2005

Oh Forgettable Memories

Oh forgettable memories, thou hast left me confused.
It's hard to forget you and hard to remember.
Thou art printed shadows stuck on my sight to remind me
Of the sweet sorrow and dark shininess I had in life.
With you I light my nights.
With you it's dim during daylight.
But still I hold on to you like a firestone in hand.
You burn my coldness and cool my fever.
Yet I curve you and leave you not.

19th. June 2005

Sunday, October 02, 2005


I know I'm still posting old poems and thougths I wrote but I'm just waiting to have time to write. Add to it, I'm still not used to write what's going on on line.

any way. I'm suffering now.
don't panic.. it's just my grandma reading her new novil to dad to edit it.
belive me I love novels, specially nana's, but to hear it and dad around... naaa

I like to read novels alone and there's no harm to talk about it with others.
but to hear this... it's something beyond my ablity.

Nana is writing about a certain woman. this women I'm not sure if it's real or imaginary but nana like to write about what she hear from people. this woman is really suffering.

I don't want to talk about what nana is reading nor dad editing but i'm on line and i don't want to hear. I'm hearing Celin Dion's One Heart.

I have this CD for 2 years and i never thought about hearing it while i'm on line. I'm playing it with realplayer and I have never notice that when the CD is original u can get album info and such things.

anyway.. I'm hearing it because I don't have my CDs here in UAE and it was the only one hear me just to put the headset to get rid of what I'm hearing.
believe it or not.. I'm still hearing nana.

that's it for now..


You are afraid of losing me!
Spare your tears.
I've never been yours.
You can't lose what you never had.
They say "Think of it 'n' it'll be possible
Do it 'n' it'll be real"
It's hard to give it a thought.
Don't dream of the impossible.
There will always be Juliet.
Give up and make me Rosaline.
Death is my fate but not with you.
Take the u-turn and change your way.
There are signs everywhere.
You just need to pass the highway.

20th. June 2005

Saturday, October 01, 2005

A Friend Injured by Cupid's Bow

"Why are you in black? I know
You don't like this colour.
Why are you so sad? I hope
You didn't lose a lover"

"I did lose someone indeed.
But he was a brother.
We didn't spend much time
He's neither form the same father nor mother."

"It seems you loved him so deep
That you call him a brother"

"I did like him indeed.
We've been spending all the time together."

"How did you lose him? Did he pass away?
Or separated by another?"

"By Cupid's bow his heart was injured.
He thought I could be his lover.
But Cupid's bow missed me this time
And took me away from him forever."

18th. June 2005

I believe the poem explain itself.