Not A Poem Poem by Ohood Al.shabibi

It's not a poem some of them said I don’t think that at all,
They must know that they must abide
I can't throw mine in that big huge hall,
I can't put it even in a box or a room,
I can't throw it and face my and its doom,
They can't do me out of mine,
They can teach me or give me a sign,
Just they can't say that my poem is a spell,
Let them hear that, let them hear the bell…

It's not a poem some of them said I don’t think that at all,
They must know that they must abide
I can't throw mine in that big huge hall,
It's ok I am well of my free time,
So I can choose another aim,
That what they in their minds think,
No … nay I'm without it in a risk,
It's my first poem in that lovely night,
So I should cope with this I must fight,
There were a lot of papers and pens,
And I used them all but cense,
They told me … I didn’t look at them…


A silent smoke came into my heart when they told me,
As a sharp knife stole my heart and put it in a place were roomy,
A faint, inaudible voice within my mind kept saying,
Your resolution is not pure you're just braying,
I can't accept that I'm not a donkey,
I can't accept that I smell their stinky,
Those papers and that black ink,
Called me to fight what they think…