Archives

Aisha’s Egypt: The Potter’s Wheel

Egyptian potter with vase on wheel

The Potter’s Wheel
 
Spinning like the Potter’s wheel
Ancient days and ancient ways
Traverse this earth in cycles
 
Spinning into foggy dawn
Recycling into sunset
In boring revolution
 
Time without evolution
Spinning like the Potter’s wheel
Until the potter is gone
 
Swallowed by oblivion
Ancient days and ancient ways
Unnoticed until missing
 
Like faithful dedication
Enduring pain with patience
Or aging gracefully
 
Spinning like the Potter’s wheel
Finally the ancient ways
Spin into eternity
 
 
© 2015 Aisha Abdelhamid
Dedicated to the Potter’s wife, whose husband is now passed away –
May God have mercy on him, his family, and us all.

 
 
A few more photos of the Potter’s workshop, kiln, and pottery for sale:

pottery kiln and workshop and pottery for sale-small
 
 
pottery for sale on table
 
 
potter with vase on wheel-small
 
 
;^)

Aisha’s Egypt: Where Old Ways Stay the Same

hit refresh to display this

Where Old Ways Stay The Same
 
Where old ways stay the same
There’s usually a good reason
Ways don’t tend to disappear
When shown appreciation
 
Love, good manners, and kind regard
Tend to wither with neglect
Seasons change and pass with time
Transitioning unchecked
 
Until no longer remembered
Until unneeded anymore
Until with unfamiliar face
Love slowly closes the door
 
 
© 2015 Aisha Abdelhamid
;^)

Aisha’s Egypt: Duck Market Day

Aisha's Egypt: Duck Market Day

Duck Market Day
 
Carrying her duck perched high on her head
She’s walking her duck to the market
 
He pokes out his head to get a good look
Observing his fate, sitting patiently
 
He calmly enjoys the view from on high
While the ducks back home view his privileged life
 
As the lucky duck who gets to travel
Escaping the farm with the farmer’s wife
 
How smugly he smiles and proudly displays
His best behavior while riding her head
 
Ignorance is bliss even for a duck
Travelling the world in an orange basket
 
Carried on the head of a farmer’s wife
As she walks her duck to the market
 
This moment of fun will soon be over
Life changes like that, and soon life’s over
 
Someone will eat him for dinner tonight
He won’t return home with the farmer’s wife
 
Even lucky ducks living privileged lives
Travelling the world while riding high
 
May escape the farm with the farmer’s wife
But won’t escape fate when it’s dinnertime
 
 
© 2015 by Aisha Abdelhamid
 
;^)

 
 

Aisha’s Egypt: French Fry Farmers

image


Can you carry your plate of french fries
On your head to your dinner table?
A plate full of tasty french fries
Is a “fast” food in some places,
But it’s not so speedy, here in Egypt,
Where guiding a horse and tilling the field
Is the way potatoes make it to the plate.
 

image


Can you see yourself clearing the field,
Collecting them one by one,
From the soil into your bucket?
Just imagine your daily life
Working as a french fry farmer –
No one pulls the bag from the freezer
Without someone harvesting potatoes.
 

image

;^)

Continue reading

Aisha’s Egypt: The Ice Cream Man

ice cream man in egypt by aisha

The Ice Cream Man

Sitting on a shady lane alongside a canal
In a little Egyptian village under eucalyptus trees

With only the rustling leaves stirring in the breeze
I hear the happy music of the ice cream man arriving

The idyllic little moment freezes in a flash
And melts like the memory of a delicious past

Like dripping strawberry ice cream landing on bare feet
Mingling with laughter and dusty childhood dreams

I hear his happy tune from half a world away
Returning like an echo of distant summer days

Sitting on a shady lane alongside a canal
In a little Egyptian village under eucalyptus trees

Sharing strawberry ice cream
With my childhood dreams

© 2014 by Aisha Abdelhamid

;^)

#BlogAction14 #Oct16, 2014: #Inequality

image
I’m taking part in the Oct. 16, 2014 Blog Action Day activities. The theme for this year is “#Inequality.” Anyone familiar with my blog will recognize that I don’t usually write about politics, but for this post I’m making an exception. Inequality is a theme I hold pretty tightly to my chest, it constricts my heart painfully and chokes off my air, leaving me speechless, angry, depressed, and torn by a whirlwind of sorrowful thoughts.

At the bottom of this post I’ve embedded a YouTube video that broke my heart with no hope of repair. I’ve never seen a better champion for the Palestinian cause. The injustice that the Palestinians are suffering is so offensive that the weight of it is too much for the whole Earth to carry. Inequality is a gross underestimation of the situation. I’m not interested in arguing politics, just sharing my broken heart. Please watch the entire video. My poem is dedicated to the little Palestinian girl you will see in the last few minutes. My loving and beloved husband, Mohamed, wrote the translation in Arabic.

She Was Born In The Respite Between Intifadas

She was born in the respite between intifadas,
كانت مولوده في الهدن بين انتفاضه واخري
Surrounded by toys, and dolls, and sunglasses.
محاطه باللعب والعرايس والنظارات الشمسيه
Adored by her family, she listened, entranced,
محاطه بحب اسرتها تسمع وتتامل
But as she learned to speak, no one spoke of the past –
ولكن عندما كانت تتعلم الكلام لم يحدثها احد عن الماضي
When the sky rained bullets from huge clouds of gas
وعندما امطرت السماء الرصاص من سحاب الفسفور الكثيف
Belching ballistic missiles, spewing blood and death.
يتجشاء الصواريخ الباليستيه يتقياالدم والموت

So she learned to walk, and then went off to school.
عندها تعلمت المشي وبعدها ذهبت للمدرسه
Oblivious to everything, she danced upon the rubble,
دون ان تعلم كل شي رقصت علي حطام الابنيه
Playing with her dolls in places full of danger.
تلعب بعرائسها في اماكن مشحونه بالخطر
She brought such beauty to the place,
اضافت مسحة الجمال علي المكان
They didn’t dream of waking her.
جعلت حلم ايقاظها مستحيل

And so the rains awakened her, when the next storm arrived.
عندئذ ايقظها المطر عندما وصلتها عاصفة المطر التاليه
It didn’t take her life, but it took a very long time,
لم تاخذ روحها ولكن اخذت الكثير من عمرها
Finding her balance, and regaining her strength,
حتى تجد توازنها و وتستعيد قوتها
After the desperate separation of school from education –
بعد ياس افتراق المدرسه من التعليم
Of childhood from race; of neighborhood from faith –
والطفل من جنسه ومجتمع من عقيدته
Of hypocrisy from hate; of fantasy from fate.
والنفاق من الكراهيه واحلام اليقظه من القدر
.

© 2014 Aisha & Mohamed Abdelhamid

.
.
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆ Here is the YouTube Video ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆


.
.
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆ Two other recent posts I’ve written about Egypt fall under the theme of #Inequality, and you may like to see them, too:

image

PhotoPoem: Doing The Dishes

image

PhotoPoem: Leaving The Market

image
Don’t miss out on all the great bloggers taking part in #BlogActionDay14 <– Click on the link OR join us on twitter at #inequality or @blogactionday12

(Top Image Source and Impartial Historical Palestinian-Israeli Crisis Resource: www.vox.com)
;^)

Poem: “Life Journey,” a Collaboration with Zara

image

My Seagull Soul by Aisha Abdelhamid ©

Life Journey

No baggage allowed; no extra weight permitted
No provisions required by the soul embarking on that journey
How shall I survive, what shall I sacrifice?
I suddenly feel so heavy!

Come empty handed! Heavenly gifts await you beloved 
Throw away needs of body; seduce the heart to submission
A miraculous strength of truth unveils her presence
How lovers welcome your arrival! Adorned with intentions of righteousness

I am shy as a child in the light of truth’s lightness
Tremulously stepping forward in search of submission
Hands outstretched to cast off bad habits
My toes disappear with the release of each burden!

Sink into His Ocean of love; drown away each sorrow
Swim deeper for what tears hearts is its distance from home
A child fears of not such a journey my friend
Ignite the wings of love and return to His Court once again

© 2014 by Zara Hussain & Aisha Abdelhamid

What a pleasure to collaborate on a poem with my new blogging sister, Zara! If you already know her, you will surely not mind me expressing my deep appreciation for Zara’s incredible poetic eloquence, because I’m sure you feel it too!

And if you don’t yet know Zara, please allow me to introduce you to someone whose poetry will light your heart with a very special glow. In my quest to learn more about Rumi, I came across Zara’s website and fell in love, perhaps enchanted is an equally appropriate word, with her soul and with her poetry. I swear she writes with the Pen of Rumi, I am so impressed with her loving eloquence! You can imagine my great pleasure when Zara asked me to collaborate on a poem with her, what a deep honor! I am totally out of my league just standing beside her, barely able to untie my tongue, let alone compose a poem on her level. So, admitting this truth and asking her to guide me was the best approach I could imagine for our collaboration, and this forms the basis for our poem. Her guidance is brilliant, pointing me to the Brightest Star, in search of the Greatest Truth, by following the Best Way.

Please take a few extra moments to visit Zara and allow her poetic expression to caress you lovingly, her poetry is a virtual spa for the soul!


Life Journey (2014)

(via http://zar4h.wordpress.com)

No baggage allowed; no extra weight permitted
No provisions required by the soul embarking on that journey
How shall I survive, what shall I sacrifice?
I suddenly feel so heavy!

Come empty-handed! Heavenly gifts await you beloved
Throw away needs of body; seduce the heart to submission…

Please click here to read more of this poem on Zara’s website!

;^)

Poem: Notorious Little Girl

hit Refresh to display this!

NOTORIOUS LITTLE GIRL

Her parents are always telling her
what to do next
But their discouraging misguided
advice deflects
She receives their warnings as things to
challenge and test
She hates it when anyone tells her
what to do next

Her rebellious independence she
proudly protects
Her bravery victories over
all their protests
The confidence and fearlessness in
her face reflects
How she hates it when someone tells her
what to do next

All of her character flaws she once
asked them to list
In her rebellious nature which they
wanted to fix
Then she listened and attempted to
correct her step
But she found herself trapped some place where
she didn’t fit

It happened so often that she learned
not to listen
Nor repeat her mistake when on each
past occasion
Deluded into false direction
on false pretext
She waited for someone to tell her
what to do next

© Aisha Abdelhamid

Dedicated to Rumi’s poem, “Bewilderment,” which you can find on Karen’s blog here. I read her post with this poem a couple of weeks ago, and it burrowed itself into my brain. Since reading it, I recognize that I didn’t become Muslim without becoming “Notorious” to everyone around me. This week’s prompts reminded me of my rebellious youth, and riding this current train of thought, I recognize that Allah created me rebellious to prepare and strengthen me for my coming transformation! Masha’ Allah! (“God does what He wants!”)

from Bewilderment, by Rumi:
…Forget safety. Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation. Be notorious…
– Rumi

;^)

Click Here for the previous submission

Submitted to the Speakeasy Grid, week #150 at yeahwrite.me – This week the prompt is the sentence, “She waited for someone to tell her what to do next,” to be used as the last line in the post, and some reference to be made to the video by Future Shorts, “The Black Hole.” I referenced the final scene of this hilarious clip, where the man is trapped in the safe. Like to learn more? Click this logo to join us:

Poem: “Don’t Blame The Sinner”

hit Refresh to display this!

The Chess Queens © Muriel Streeter

“DON’T BLAME THE SINNER”

“Don’t blame the sinner,”
I whisper to the Queen
Regal in her robe of white,
Her skin a pearly sheen.

“Don’t blame the sinner
If he gives himself to me
After he surrenders,”
I whisper quietly.

“Don’t blame the sinner,
Or fill your heart with hate,
Forgive him if he fails,
He didn’t write his fate.”

She turns her pale face
To watch a handsome horse
With a prancing gait
And cunning wayward course.

“Forgive his evil deed,”
I whisper one more time,
Not glancing at the steed
I dream of every night.

His protective wife
Is both pawn in my game
And distraction in my quest
To destroy his Royal Name.

My next sudden move
Fills her eyes with fright
As she cries to me,
“You’ll capture my White Knight?”

“Don’t blame your sister
For being a Black Queen –
I do not want your Knight,
I’m capturing your King!”

© 02/16/2014 by Aisha Abdelhamid

hit Refresh to display this!

Click Here for the previous submission OR Click Here for the next submission

Submitted to the Speakeasy Grid, week #149 at yeahwrite.me – This week the prompt is the sentence, “Don’t blame the sinner,” to be used as the first line in the post, and some reference to be made to the painting at the top of this page, titled, “The Chess Queens,” by Muriel Streeter. Like to learn more? Click this logo to join us:

Poem: No One Could Ever Know

NO ONE COULD EVER KNOW

No one could ever know
What happened here
No figment of our fantasy
Will ever reappear
To indicate our passage
Of time in cyberspace
That’s just an old computer
Useless, wasting space

But I flew with you like Lois Lane
Holding hands with Superman
I flirted with you like Scheherazade
Conversing with her Sultan
I rode with you like Princess Jasmine
On a carpet with Aladdin
I danced with you above the stars
In a moonlit corner of heaven

I counted with you the shooting stars
Showering us with light
I echoed your cry like a wolf on a mountain
As we traversed the night
I followed your call and trusted you
And you guided me to your shore
I found you true and I married you
And you carried me through your door

No one could ever know
What happened here
No figment of our fantasy
Will ever reappear
To indicate our passage
Of time in cyberspace
That’s just an old computer
Useless, wasting space

But the screen of your eyes
Still shines clear
In each pixel of light
Your loving words appear
Brightening the mischievous
Smile on your face
As you remember our fun
Flying in cyberspace

Dedicated to My Beloved Husband, Mohamed, may Allah grant us Paradise together!
© 02/09/2014 by Aisha Abdelhamid

hit Refresh to display this!

Feel free to download or share!

Click Here for previous week submission OR Click Here for next week submission

Submitted to the Speakeasy Grid, week #148 at yeahwrite.me – This week the prompt is the sentence, “No one could ever know what happened here,” to be used anywhere in the post, and some reference to be made to the song, “Counting Stars,” by OneRepublic. Like to learn more? Click this logo to join us:

Submitted April 15, 2015 to Crysta’s great blog, “Dancing with Fireflies” for her weekly challenge. This month the theme is Romance, and this week Crysta is asking for reviews of favorite books, or a romantic poem, meme, etc., so I think it’s a great opportunity to share this romantic poem about online dating that I wrote for my husband in memory of all those great times we had online before we actually “met” and married!

Join us at Crysta’s blog: http://fireflydance.net/2014/04/11/weekly-challenge/
See you there!
;^)