Isam Hussain

Rookie - 33 Points (8-12-1938 / Iraq)

Isam Hussain Poems

1. Happiness Will Not Pass Me By 4/1/2010
2. A Game Of Bridge 5/16/2013
3. A Painting Of Modern Art 5/16/2013
4. A Play Called 'The Coming Of Day' 5/16/2013
5. A Silly Poem 5/16/2013
6. Was It Really So? 5/16/2013
7. Autumn 5/16/2013
8. Christmas - The Lost Hope 5/17/2013
9. Christmas Day 5/17/2013
10. Dalliance 5/17/2013
11. Farewell Hilda Simon 5/17/2013
12. Calvi In Corsica 5/17/2013
13. Backwards To The Future 5/17/2013
14. Even Angels Grow Old And Forgetful 5/17/2013
15. Colours And Shades 5/17/2013
16. Farewell Joe 5/19/2013
17. Faewell My Brother-In-Law 5/19/2013
18. Faith 5/19/2013
19. Forlorn Hope 5/19/2013
20. Breaking Free Is Hard To Do 5/17/2013
21. From A Jack To A King 5/19/2013
22. Gaddafi 5/19/2013
23. God Confesses 5/19/2013
24. God's Oversight 5/19/2013
25. Gold-Silver-Bronze 5/19/2013
26. Good Friday 5/19/2013
27. Happiness Second Time Round 5/20/2013
28. Holy Week - I Was There 5/20/2013
29. In Praise Of Poets 5/20/2013
30. Lanchester 5/20/2013
31. Last Request 5/20/2013
32. No Action Replay 5/20/2013
33. Obama 5/20/2013
34. Oh To Be Divine 5/20/2013
35. Patricia's Second Anniversary (11th Oct 2008) 5/20/2013
36. Paradise Remembered 5/20/2013
37. Patricia's First Anniversary (11th Oct 2007) 5/20/2013
38. Please God Not Another War 5/20/2013
39. Prose-Poetry 5/20/2013
40. Ra's Devotee 5/20/2013
Best Poem of Isam Hussain

The Eyes Of Horus

Once, the eyes of Horus
shone with equal brilliance,
sun and moon
played hide and seek
like two lovers in dalliance.
Then jealousy raised its head,
Seth raised his hand
against his brother, Osiris.

Lying in wait,
Seth bends his bow,
fires a vengeful arrow,
misses King Osiris,
strikes the eye of Horus,
wounding it, dimming its light.
Now the moon hides in darkness
while the sun boasts of its brightness.

The moon grows daily
more jealous and angry;
its full face burns with fury,
but can’t regain its past glory. ...

Read the full of The Eyes Of Horus

A Game Of Bridge

The pack is shuffled and cut,
the dealer gives each his lot.
I sense Hope welling up within,
whispering, “It is your turn to win”.

I pick up my allotted share,
expecting a set good and fair;
a hand I can play with flair.
My Hope is dashed, I despair.

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