Home » Charts » Poetry » FAMAGUSTA IN THE RAIN

FAMAGUSTA IN THE RAIN

FAMAGUSTA IN THE RAIN Composed by: Alaa B. Elgadi 8th October, 2015 (Famagusta- Cyprus)     The mighty sage oaks sound as xylophones, And the houses’ gutters seem to be as vibraphones. The zebra crossings look like piano keyboards, The doves resemble musical notes on the telephone cords. The patient Mercedes taxis blow their horns as saxophones, The sky scent makes the concrete paths inlaid with precious stones. The vintage street lamps rhythmically begin to flash, At the rain water and every stilettos with a splash. This UN camp’s iron fence used to look so sharp, Now it looks like as musical scale on a Jewish harp. Here is a Cypriot beauty trying on a tight Turkish boots, She bends down as Cyprus serves all its heavenly fruits.  Brazil cashew nuts’ aroma dances samba before these shops, And the holy bakeries immortalize the gold ears of the wheat crops. History repeats itself, but like Shakespeare it will never repeat, So I love being in Shakespeare café in Sakarya cinema street.    Tasting the sips of the aromatic Turkish tea is only abstractions, Unless you do not crunch some Baklava and Konawa’s attractions. Away from the down town! There is a cold thick- fur cute kitten, Purring behind a colonial yellow post box inlaid with ‘Great Britain’. The long Salamis Street resembles a Cypriot buffet, extremely delicious, And the fragrance of the rain sounds as the local Cypriots, not malicious. The scented rustle of the vivid trees plays a symphony of slow jazz, How breathtaking! The olives’ smell echoes distantly from Karpaz. Here is where I am living in Famagusta city, Whose air is an equation of beauty and simplicity. I am a sensuous Libyan poet, not insane, Portraying Famagusta in the rain. Romantic poets come to existence in October with the mild temperature, They carve their names on the golden leaves of literature. For nature always inspires me the aesthetic certainty, Allah the Creator of rain, Has the absolute Eternity.
FAMAGUSTA IN THE RAIN

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

Because Angels Are In White…

The poem is on Doctors who were heroes to us in the time of Covid-19

The Book is Being Written

How we observe and how we reflect.

The Dreary Faceless

The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.

The Model House

The facades of a perfect home.

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.