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 Sep 2017 Cam
Lazhar Bouazzi
The tongues of fire*
Swollowed the leaves
The trees had uttered
To summon the rain.
(c) LazharBouazzi
*the "tongues of fire" ("ألسنة اللّهب") is part of a work of bricolage I sometimes use in my English poems. It consists of subjecting a dead metaphor, a cliché, in Classical Arabic, to a literal English translation and presenting it in such a way that it looks as though it were a new metaphor I invented for the purpose. Another example of this work of bricolage would be the expression "the rain is falling like opened flasks" ("ينزل المطر كأفواه القرب") which is also my literal translation of a very old cliché in Classical Arabic whose equivalent in English would be "it's raining cats and dogs (I might have said this elsewhere).
 Sep 2017 Cam
Lazhar Bouazzi
I am the quill that marks
The water-walled history
Of the sea as it may -
A swan, be it, or a black-backed
Gull.

I am the pariah who
Failed to posit his load on
A hill that hung low, like a
Sunless moon, but who can still
hark the dark
Rumbling of repetition.

I am the Quixote who took
On the wind who made the mill
Sob like a bronze leaf in grief,
Seared by the passage of
A sluggish summer.

I am the pariah, the
Quixote, and the historian
Of the rainbow runner.

©LazharBouazzi, August 5, 2017
 Sep 2017 Cam
Lazhar Bouazzi
A torrid rumbling in my head
Chants for the making of a poem,
But no words in my head respond
To the hungry, chanting plea.

A brass rim hugs an acre of
A zinc ocean, no fish no birds,
Save an empty body, no soul no words,
Fluttering on a broken sea.

And lifting from time to time,
From wave to wave, a valedictory
Pallid hand in lieu of a grimace.


©LazharBouazzi (August 11, 2017)
She has no mirror
but where flirt the leaves with the pond
she comes in the cool of noon
mixing the dark of her hair
with the summer shade
dipping into glass green water
her toes and far above
and all the pond sees
encrypts within the bubbles of rainbow
that only her clothes
swelled in awe
can read.
 Sep 2017 Cam
wordvango
tender was as soft as any fluffy cloud ever
hovered over
any straw strewn field
soft as bunny fluff or
a kitten's purr
green Illuminata on a screen
of Daisies dalliances with efflorescent
shields of sunglows radiance
illuminating the hidden parts
the mind's shadows
a part
in a play one act
a display of life's reality
sunken a bucket far down
into the deepest well ever
returned full
of glittering
clear
stark
pure
beautiful
clearness
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