Jul/Aug 2017 Poetry

Two Poems

by David Jalajel

Image courtesy of the British Library Photostream

qasida #31

for this: for wishing lovers & loved ones gone,
your keen ears ache & the distance resounds

with sedentary pundits' sleet-soured tongues—
muddy puddles stagnate, snubbing the clouds

a large stump clutters your view to the north,
at its base, lichens crawl on restive ground

& evening's mildew blackens a few more doors—
donkeys bray, sworn enemies shout through the crowds

so you'll feel restored here for a few moments more
by rustled dry branches, distant cold & these sounds


qasida #33

the air hangs over indolent, flowering grass
& mosses don an orange hue, so i get the gist

of your twilight distractions, your heightened
expectations, though the woken sun insists

itself through the clouds & leaves, & yes i get,
with a body's sure perception, how you'll resist

the calm of the sun's hot seamless face
& the storm front beckoning in the far-off mist

but i must've known it was going to end here
where rains fall lightly & the sunlight persists


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