Editor and publisher of the North East Poetry Journal, a quarterly publication promoting poetry in the North East of England.
BSc. in elecrical engineering from University College, Cardiff (1962. Worked in Scotland in Research & Development at Bathgate, West Lothian. Left for the North East in 1972 to set up in... more »
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Isam Hussain Poems
There is a bird which warbles late at night, no doubt fooled by the bright streetlight; it thinks it is day when, in fact, it is night, and feels obliged to sing when it aught not.
The Tsunami (Boxing Day 2004, South East...
Gaya stirred, moved beneath the ocean, caused uproar in the realm of Poseidon. Frenzied with rage, frothing at the mouth, his chargers rushed her idyllic shores,
Belief and Unbelief
Sceptics say God is an illusion, a figment of human imagination, a sure sign of self-delusion; they deride the contradiction
Linda (an acrostic poem)
Lady Luck came my way, invited me for a short stay. Not knowing what to do, did not dare to date you.
The Boy Who Could'nt Weep
Silent images flashed on my TV screen: a child in rags, sat on a stone amid smouldering huts, all alone, his bewildered eyes scanned the scene.
Oil Tells Its Story
I can't boast of my pedigree, Or claim to be of noble birth; But let me tell you my history, How people spotted my worth.
All will be Well
All will be well and all manner of things will be well. So pick up the quill, dip it in the inkwell,
A haunting sound is heard softly whistling, like a magic flute in the distance playing, luring summer leaves to hum and sway, to don new colours, to dance and to play;
A doctor sought fame, meddled with nature. Steptoe was his name, a man of some stature.
Land and Sea
As though by some eternal decree Land and Sea are destined to disagree over where the shoreline should be.
Linda's 58th Birthday
On such a special day, there’s much I want to say; but words fail to convey feelings locked within,
The Eyes of Horus
Once, the eyes of Horus shone with equal brilliance, sun and moon played hide and seek
London (1957 - 2010)
Glad to be on a train heading north, away from the London of the uncouth, where the milk of kindness ceased to flow such a long, long time ago.
The Illusion of Time
When I was young, I could count the hours of the day, weekdays came and went in an orderly way, Time didn’t hurry, but passed sedately by. Now that I am decades older
Comments about Isam Hussain
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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There is a bird which warbles late at night,
no doubt fooled by the bright streetlight;
it thinks it is day when, in fact, it is night,
and feels obliged to sing when it aught not.
Some say it’s a nightingale,
but I prefer another tale,
and so would you,
if only you knew.
The bird nests in the ground of Lanchester Club,
where there’s music and much drinking in the pub.
The smell of beer makes it tipsy and tight,
so it joins in, and sings late into the night.