Poetry Break by Anwar Gheni

A Note from the Editor:

I was very interested in Anwer’s work when I received his submission. One poem, in particular, Grey Souls, which was not submitted here, is about being a “child of war.” This poem caught my attention as I researched his work. His country has been war-torn for decades, and as we all know, has not seen freedom in the arts for half a century, to one degree or another. His first language is not English, but to the trained eyes and ears of those who love poetry, you can hear the interesting subtexts below the surface, and see the pictures his words paint. I hope you enjoy his poems. 

Feature photo credit: www.architectural-review.com

Stolen Doors

We can’t continue to live underwater because our horses smell the perfume of remote land. This thing happened in the last days where I was driving my thought towards surrealistic freemen. Believe me, I know that this world has inspirational windows and our sky has awesome colors, but what can I do, if all the doors had been stolen and all my eyes were killed by unknown?

The Desert Man

I am living in a faceless desert, so you can’t see the carousels in my heart, and all what I can imagine is my gray stick. We should be good and laughing as exactly as my grandfather, but I am a desert’s man and know nothing about the grass. This earth, which I always love it, stands over my shoulder with cold extremities, so I can’t see her gloomy face, but I grope everything in her corners.

Be Brown

When I saw him, he smiled.  I didn’t expect this clarity from that brown urchin. You know the brown things are deep and expressionless. He was an adept fishmonger and he had inherited his silver net from old grandfathers. He told me that he didn’t like fish, but he likes to color them with silver and casts them into the other riverbank where the sun reaches the river at her sunset and catches the fish as a bear. He has warm-hearted family. They were smooth like the lemon leaves. They were bewitching. Firstly, they mock at me, and then they say: be brown.

Dark Lightness

Have me discern the darkness. I don’t like all these lights; what the summer voice brought to my town. I am a man made from wood and I don’t know anything about lying. Have me stand in the heart of this waterfall. I mean your dark lightness.

The Blind Hotel

I saw him sitting quietly on that sofa. There was a big noise, but I could see the truth because my parents had made my skin from a fish legacy. There are no stairs in our small hotel because our crippling. When he whispered to me, I saw the sofa stole his coat, but you know I can’t say anything, because of the pure blood of the sofa. Now, I think you can imagine the size of windows in our small hotel. Yes, they are smaller than my eyes, and because of that, the people call our hotel “The Blind Hotel”.

Ocean Man

My time is always alone, so that the river fish can’t speak loud, but I hear them. The ocean soul has been staying in my heart with her lovely coldness and because of this, my wife likes to call me “the ocean man”.

Author’s Bio:


Anwer Ghani is an Iraqi poet and writer. He was born in 1973 in Alhilla city. His name had appeared inAdelaide, Zarf, Peacock, Otoliths, Algebra of Owls, and others. And also had appeared in Inner Child Press anthology “The Year Of The Poet”. Anwer Ghani is the chief editor of “Tajdeed” literary magazine.  He had, in Arabic, forty books in literature and religious sciences. Here is his website: https://anwerghaniwriting.blogspot.com/p/blog-page.html  
Anwer Ghan is the chief representative of the World Nations Writers Union (WNWU) in Iraq, the member in international writers association (IWA),  and the establisher of “Tajdeed Literary Institute (TLI)” and the annual “Tajdeed” Prize for expressive narrative.

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  1. I wanna also be a part of this Pls get me information abut it!
    Thanks with respect
    Surbhi anand.

  2. Anwer Ghani, I am impressed by your style of poetry. I have been a lover of the art since I was a child. Thanks so much for sharing your gift with us.

  3. Anwer, These are beautiful. You weave with words, which create pictures of images that pierce the heart. The emotion of your work comes first, then the meaning. It is profound what you do here and in Grey Souls as well. Opening closed minds. Enlightening hearts to your painful reality, and that of all people of war. Thank you. You are welcome here at Two Drops of Ink.

  4. In fact, Mr Scott had surprised me in different amazing ways; the first his expression of interest in my work, the second the publishing of 6 poems in one occasion, and third, I find myself in an amazing community. I am so happy. Big thanks dear Scott and thanks for all. Anwer

  5. Dr. Ghani, I appreciate you sharing your experience with us. My ability to completely understand your circumstance would fall short of any wise words I could express. However, I did paint a picture in my mind of what it may have been like through your writing and eyes. To be honest, I am reluctant to comment on poetry because I lack the ability to grasp this style of writing entirely, but this piece was different for me. Thank you, John.

    • Dear John, Thank you very much for your comment. In fact, I try here to express the clear lyricism with clear narrative, and this is so different from narrative poetry or the lyric poetry. Regards, Anwer

  6. Good morning, Dr. Ghani. Thank you for sharing these narrative imagery pieces with us. I’m sure that the images they prompt in my mind cannot compare to your experience. However, the power of words helps us connect, even in a limited sense. The images that you prompted are haunting, and extremely sad – for a country, people, and you.

    I believe that you live in New Zealand now, but you have carried your memories with you and I am grateful that you shared them with us.

    • Dear Marilyn, Yes, I am the poet of sadness, I had three poetry collections, all of them were colored with black sadness. I am in a destroyed country, I am now in Iraq. Regards, Anwer

      • Dr. Ghani, my prayers and thoughts are with you and your family. Although this cannot replace safety, we welcome you to the community of writers at Two Drops of Ink.

  7. Powerful, haunting imagery here!
    How well Anwer expresses the despair felt as an artist living in a war-torn country with his words “I know the world has inspirational windows and the sky has awesome colors, but what can I do if all the doors have been stolen and my eyes have been killed by the unknown?”
    In spite of his circumstances, he has still found a way to communicate his heart and I am touched by its pain.

    • I’m so glad you commented, Terry; I was beginning to think that I was the only one who saw this in his poems. Read “Grey Soul” which is an in-text link in my editor’s note. It’s a wonderful example of the “haunting” tones and imagery in his work.

      • WOW! I find myself weeping after reading his words in “Grey Soul.” I am weeping for Anwer, this Iraqi man whose life has been postponed; for all the sons and daughters of war; and for all who know nothing of beauty or love. I also weep in shame at my own ingratitude at times for all I have been given, when I read his deepest dreams – that the Euphrates would be cleansed of blood, that the shells would be cleared from the cracked ribs of Babylon, and that he is able to live (peacefully) admid the bean leaflets like a ladybug courting the morning.
        Thank you for posting these powerful poems, and opening my eyes so that I don’t become like the windows on the blind hotel that Anwer describes.

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