a poem a day - poems -

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Poetry Series A Poem A Day - poems - Publication Date: 2005 Publisher: Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive

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Poetry Series

A Poem A Day- poems -

Publication Date: 2005

Publisher:Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive

A Poem A Day(Lebanon) Hello, sorry for not updating this site for months, but my university schedules arekilling me and I've been busy studying. I hope this site will be running anduptodate later, whenever i have time to get back to writing. Enjoy.

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2005 / 05 / 18 - Studying Pharmacy Studyin' pharmacy ain't easy, I've been toldBy many people, some young and some old...Well, let me tell you, I'm not a nerdSo take off your lips this ugly word. Pharmacy ain't as hard as you supposeYou just need a very curious nose,A pair of working eyes, but one is enoughTwo ears, coz with one you may find it tough,A sportive tongue ready to pronounceAll the weird names, titles and nouns,A bit of free space in your brainsAnd, for the hard days, some chains;An ability to memorize a lot and a lotWhether you actually understand or not,The skill to never object or complainWhen a teacher chooses not to explain,A mouth that shuts up when you're told to,One working hand, better if you got two,The faculty of studying 20 pages per hourThe power to feel clean without a showerAnd to stay awake without having slept too(Because you might not find time to) . That's the indispensible equipmentYou might thrown in, if you want,Some scientifical knowledge and some intelligence.Add to these opitonals a lot of patienceTo manage busy secretaries, stupid educators,Curious patients and brainless doctors. That's about it, but you could useA pair of nice pants and trendy shoes. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 19 - Funny Botanics Course Finally we've been tought something amusingDuring the course of botanics (usually boring) The teacher said that plants could move'Tis caused by chemicals, not by a groove.Apparently as the sunflower turns to the sun,Some plants can not only turn, but run.So don't find it weird next timeWhen you see an orange dancin' with a lime! A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 21 - Failing A Test In the class, you were like a guestWhile the teacher was explaining to the restYou were vaguing in your secret nestNever putting your intelligence at testThinking you didn't have to investAnd keeping your energy for another quest. Then you noticed the burden on your chestSo you squeezed your brains up to the zest. But now, you didn't make it like the restAnd you failed your chemistry testIf you're angry, feel free to protestBut it's not like you did all of your best.Your friends are all out now, having a festWhile you lay thinking, conscience not at rest. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 22 - Sweet Sunday (At Kleiat) It's so quiet here, I can almost hearMother earth breathe right into my earSending a gentle breeze, a whisper of graceAnd a secret calling of love and faith.A few voices raise from time to timeViolating the absolute calm, dishonoring crime My father telling the gardener by numbersWhere to plant the remaining three cucumbers,Our neighbor calling her five-year old childWho went with his friends to play in the wild,My mother wondering, with a loud voiceWhat she'll cook for lunch, very hard choice,And a car engine struggling to come upThe hill to our house, it decides to stop. But the nature knows exactly how to resist,It's almost like these sounds don't exist,They get dissolved into the sighing gustLike thin powder mixes with the dust. I've been sitting here for over two hoursWatching the same bunch of six red flowers,I have tried to move a bee away from my earBut it came back, buzzing with no fear,I guess this is a way to show her elationAt the sight of this incredible creation,It's her way of saying 'I love you spring,I love all the joy and hope that you bring'. Now, I decide to take a look around the gardenUnlikely, the cherry tree carries a heavy burdenThis year, a lot of red is mixed with the greenMaking a blend, like nothing I've ever seen.I can nearly hear those cherries calling meTo savor their taste, mouth watering and creamy,I can nearly feel their velvet dress in my hand,Trace of heaven, delusion of a different land.

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My father once said 'You should fortify the roots,This is how you manage to get lots of fruits'He also told me it was extremely toughBut I notice his strategy worked well enough,I can see mini-apples, mini-pears, a mini-peachAnd a lot of mini-currants still out of reach,I can also see blooming flowers of every shade,A once in a lifetime sight I wouldn't trade. I return to my little white plastic chairConvinced that there's so much love in the air,I can't help but notice the peace is backAnd everything has been put right onto its track My father is hosing the watermelon, hoping it'll grow,The gardener left but promissed to come back tomorrow,The neighbor's son apparently is still outBut his tired mother decided not to shout,While my mother finally settled on a barbecueBut whether it's chicken or meat, I have no clue. I sit down and choose to enjoy the serenityOf this moment of glory, trapped in the eternity. It's so beautiful here, I can almost seeThe gentle wind roaming to hug the tree. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 23 - The Bathroom Lamp Yesterday, I wanted to wash my hands, at nightI went to the bathroom and turned on the lightBut it was still so dark, my eyes couldn't copeI even had to search and seek just to find the soap.Then I took a look at the lamp up on the wallIt seemed less like a light and more like a ball.So I went and asked my dad, who was still awakeWhether the weird lamp I was seeing was real or fakeI said 'Dad, something is wrong with the toilet lampI don't know, maybe it's having a sort of a crampOr maybe the constant heat made it shrink or disappearThe light it's giving is even fade, I can't see clear,I know this lamp gave us so much trouble in the pastIt used to switch off regularly, then turn on fastIt even shut down without any reason, last week'.But my dad answered: 'That lamp was awfully weakI got sick and tired of screwing it every timeSo I bought the new small one, is that a crime? ' A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 25 - Shopping With A Friend Shopping with a friend is coolThere's nothing forbidden, no ruleAnd no parents to say what's suitableOr to tell you what's unaffordable,Actually you don't need to be richTo try on whatever your eyes wish. Shopping with a friend is so niceYou might forget budget and priceAnd buy things you don't needJust by habit, not by greedLike get ten or eleven similar topsFrom two or three different shops. Shopping with a friend is funnyEven if you don't have moneyYou can try a formal blue shirtWith a long gypsy orange skirtPretend to buy them but act lostThen don't, because they're low-cost. Shopping with a friend is naughtyYou can act humble or haughtyChange personnalities between stores:Be a girl who laughs and snoresOr an english tourist, elegant and neatWho went walking on the street. But shopping is more pleasant with a friendWho has a thousand dollars to lend. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 26 - Champions' League Final They thought I was a total foolWhen I said the winner will be Liverpool,Because Milano did score three goalsBut then, they slept and rested their soulsWhile the English never gave up hope,Despite their loss, they managed to copeAnd equalized right after the breakAs easy as if it was a piece of cake.The Italians kept playing without chemistrySomeone please take them out of their misery!I don't know how they got to the penalty shotsBut the English were far better, far by knotsThe trophee was handed to LiverpoolNow tell me, seriously, who is the fool? A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 28 - My Gym Coach My gym coach is a shorty,A typical lebanese weightlifter and boxer,Aged somewhere around forty,Who still ignores the second meaning of 'boxer'.He exersizes from sunrise till dawnNever getting tired, never giving up,Nostalgic about a glory that's goneGlory of a boxer who never won a cup. He had no family, no parents, no wife,Nothing but his red gloves an beloved rimSo he thought he'd no longer waste his lifeAnd decided to open this small gym.Now, he's admired by the young boysWho come every day to see him trainWith his 100Kg weights, his 'small toys'As he says to whoever thinks he's insane. Sometimes, while running, I hear a 'boum'I know it's him, opening gently the door,He walks like a king in the jogging roomWith his feet barely touching the floor.Then he blows his muscles in my faceTelling me this is how I should look like,And if I dare to say 'it's a high pace'He stands offensively, ready to strike. But still, I think he is hilariousWith his mannors and XXL muscle sizeAnd I love to make him furiousBy telling him: 'You should still exercize! ' A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 30 - Open Your Heart Over the internet, for seven yearsThey had chattedHe was there to wipe her tearsWhenever she felt sad. For three years, he was a friend,She was a friend,With a message of hope to sendThrough the web. Then love spread its wingsAbove them,The four seasons became four springsIn their eyes. He had sent her his best picTo make her smileWhenever she's sad or sickOrWhenever she feels the world is unfairAnd she gives upTo desolation, sadness and despair. He had her photoHidden among all the things he cherishesHis dreams,His sorrows and his very secret wishes. She was encrypted in his mindHe was in hersLike a hidden treasure you can't findThough you know it's there,Like the binary numbers in a PCThey make it functionBut they are nothing you can see. She was the reason he woke upEvery day,He was the reason she never gave up

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In every way. She was Morrocan, he was LebaneseThey were togetherDespite the distance and the seas,Despite the fears,United through the tears,And through the invisible wires of a netWhere they first linked and met. They talked, she heard his voiceHe heard hers,Since then they had no other choiceThan speakEvery day a little bit moreJust a minute,To reach everything they had waited forLonger than years. To find him she was keenThough she had seen him the day before,She even worshiped the computer screenThat showed his face, once more. He had fallen in love with the phoneHe even fell asleep next to itWaiting for the call and magical toneThat would make him hear her voice for a minute. Then they thought they had to meetShe couldn't comeHe couldn't go, it was a total defeatOf the love they had. But she didn't give up, she foughtFor loveAnd forth love is meant to triumph, she thoughtOver everything else. From Morroco, she came in a secret wayWithout telling him

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That was the first time she kept awayA secret from him.Now, she is in a lebanese talkshow'Open your heart'Could she reveal everthing she has to showBy opening hers?She explained their story with a smile,People found it weird,She needed nothing but to see him for a whileAnd ask himAsk him if he was honest, if it wasn't a lieWhen he saidThat for her, he'd do anything, he'd even die. He doesn't know from where the invitation cameBut he doubtsIn his eyes, all the invitations are the sameExcept hers.When he sees her face invade the TV screenHe smilesAlmost like if it was the first time he's ever seenHer beautiful eyes. They ask him 'who is she? ' What can he say?He answers'This is the dearest person' without a delayAnd he smiles again.She's relieved, the answer she came looking forLayed in front of herIn the happiness that spread from his coreEver since he saw her.The question is a forgotten formalityShe doesn't need to do,For the reply is in front of her, a realityThat she can't deny. One curtain and twenty stepsSeparate them,The shade is opened, remains the steps:OneTwoThree four

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Five six sevenEight nine ten elevenTwelve thirteen fourteen fifteenSixteen seventeen eighteen nineteenTwenty. Through the air of a television showCalled 'open your heart',They showed a huge love still able to grow,They united to no longer be apart. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 05 / 31 - A Poem A Day 'How can you write a poem a day?Is there a method? A secret way? ' I have been asked so many timesHow can I find my ideas and rhymes,How in less than twenty four hoursCan I recover all of my powersTo strike again like a serial killerComing out of an american thriller. Well, writing poetry is very easyYou should find words, make them cheesy,Spice them up according to the desireAnd leave them to jumble on the fire,Then display them in a vague wayThere, you got your poem for today. I know digging for new topics is hardBut this is how you know the fraud from the bard! A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 01 - The 'Double You's Today is the day I finally sayGoodbye to you, hated month of MayAnd hail to you, beloved June,Can't say you came too soon! A new month, new internet accountNew hours to spend, untouched amountTwenty five, new, brand new, utterly newNot too many, but not a few. I no longer need to avoid peakingAt my dear computer knowingThat it's forbidden, I can now use itFor a whole day or for a bit. And when I hear the modem once againI'm taken to a land newly discovered by men,Where they don't need to stand in queues,A land all made of 'double you's. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 03 - A Birthday Phone Message Yesterday was a very special dayIt was my friend Racha's birthdaySo I thought I'd make her stop the moanBy sending her a message on the phone: 'Habbeh berdeh* ya 7abibteh!Chou kberna seneh?Ya delleh sorteh bel 3echrin!Wa ana 3al tari2!Yalla khatyarna...' That message was written in Arabic, not SwedishI think it sounds very kiddishSo just to convince you it's not rubbishI'll translate it litteraly to english: Cold breeze dear!What we grew one year?......** you became in the twenties!And I'm on the road!Come on, we're getting old... This translation didn't make my point clearI was congratulating her for growing one yearI also said I was following her paceWhich seems to me a bit more like a disgrace. I actually still feel like a childAn eight-year old kid, whimsical but mild,Or like a twenty-four-hour clownUnable to act serious, and unable to frown. Let's get back to Racha and not drift.I, then, offered to get her a gift: 'I was thinking chou a7la cadeauMa32oul jeblik yeh, bala bekhel,W faj2atan EUREKA WAJADTOUHA!(But I didn't go running naked in the street

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Metel akhouna Einstein) Ra7 a3mol 3annik fa7s el botanic! ' which is a funny thought, in betweens,And, in english, litteraly means: 'I was thinking what's the best giftI could get you, without thrift,And suddenly EUREKA I FOUND IT(But I didn't go running naked in the streetLike our brother Einsten) I will doThe botanics test for you! ' Very thoughtful consideration and considerate thought, right?Well if you know what i mean, excuse me, if you might,I need to explain to the rest why doing the botanics testIs a heavy burden on every pharmacy student's chest. We got around 237 plant names to memorizeA topic worth all the screams and cries,Not to mention every plant's specificationsUseless informations, worthless notions:Which plant has which rootsWhat type are every plant's fruitsAnd what's the sort of their flowers,Unlimited data, if compiled, they'd make towers! So now you know why we hate botanicAnd why its test makes us panic,So you understand that offering to make the testFor her, is a nice gift to suggest. Later, she called me, thanked me and saidThat it wasn't Einstein who ran naked, but Archimed. * in arabic, it sounds like happy birthday

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** no litteral translation found for the 'ya delleh', the actual meaning seems a lotsimilar to the 'oh my god! ' interjection. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 04 - Mexican Series Fan He is a man in his late twentyAnd love stories, he's had plentyStories he hadn't lived but seenThrough the colourful TV screen. Mexican series of love and hateOf betrayals, friends and fate,Scenarios he memorized by heartOf a couple endlessly driven apartBut coming together despite it allBy answering love's gentle call. The heroes in the end will be married,The evil mother-in-law will be burried,These are facts, he just knowsBut he keeps on watching the shows. Maybe, through the brave heroesOf these lame everlasting mexican showsHe finally fulfills his secret wishOf being handsome, placid and rich,He finally fulfills his timeless willOf having, in his boring life, some thrill. Maybe he can't live except in dreamsMaybe his life is a sea without streams,And he's looking for a chance to captureTo end his meaningless life and torture. Now, once again, he turns the TV onHe forgets his life, memories: noneAll he cares about is Pedro and MariaHeroes of the new series, on the TV 'Heya'. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 05 - Mother Earth Billions of people on this earthEvery second, hundreds of birthsHundreds of new humans comingTo populate the planet.If one day, there would be no more space,If all the green woods and blue seasHave been invaded by our raceWhere would we put the newborns?Can we stop this growing feverOf newly born innocent babiesMeant to become the infesting occupantsOf a land that was never theirs? And while a new child is born,Another trapped rat,Another hungry cat,Another hunted batDie. They die because we're invading their habitations,Because we're afraid of them,Because we want to eat them,Because we just want them dead,Or because we're eating the foodThat was once meant to feed us both,But that we now think is only ours. A million years ago, or soThere were animals, all over the earthAnd a few men,Now there are humans, all over the earthAnd a few pets.They used to live in peace, and harmony,Now, we live, or we don'tBecause we're too afraid of themTo actually enjoy life, and enjoy living aside them. And we keep building,Taking the stones from the mountains

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Placing it on the planes; We keep creating roads,Through the hills or in the see,Placing asphalt on the groundAnd paving it too; We keep constructing bridges,Over the seas, to connectWhile all we actually doIs drift apart, more, every day; We keeping building dykes,And changing the water's course,Stealing it from its meant destinyAnd keeping it for ourselves,Like if it would never come back again; We keep cutting the trees,Erasing the woodsKilling the unborn life,Digging the groundStealing the hidden goods,Using and abusing our ressourcesAccording to our moodsOr to the mood of a new CEOWho wants to prove that by consumming more energyWe can earn more money. We keep thanking God for his blessingsNot knowing that in every second, we offend himBy forsaking his most precious present for us:A land to live on, a land to die onNot a land to kill, a land to slaughter.We keep telling God that his creation wasn't perfectBecause the ground he created is rough for our cars,Because the stones he created aren't shaped as homes,Because the rivers he created are not flowing next to our doors,Because the lands he created are not linked, and they should,And because he created animals that we fearMore than animals that we like.We keep cursing his beloved gift,

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By every single way that we can,Never thinking there must be a reasonWhy everything is like what it's like,Never thinking that maybe every thing was builtNot just for us, but for all the other creatures too. And then, we go watching programs like Ushuaïa*Surprised by the immensity of God's creations,Thinking'Oh my God! Blessed be thy nameFor you made such beauty!This sea is so pure,These mountains are so wonderful,This view is awesome!Never thought there could be somethingAs breathtaking as this scene! ' Yeah, never thought, maybe, that this Beauty existsBecause our hands still haven't violated her. *Ushuaïa is a french program that shows newly discovered and beautiful placeson earth. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 08 - Smiling Face Wondering around with her smiling faceShe seems like she has got no lace,Like she sees the world in pinkAs the French usually say, I think.In her eyes, everyone is nice, honestKind, loving, gentle and modest.And to her, no one could be ruthlessThere's nothing called evil or meanness.She never looks at the bad partBut only sees things from her heart,A heart so innocent and so pureIt'd find for all the world's cruelty, a cure. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 10 - My Newly Discovered Relative I thought she'd be insensitiveHaughty, arrogant and sarcasticMaybe like Cruella from the 101 DalmatiansOr the evil witch in Snow White,But I was surprised to find outShe was cute, harmless and funnyA bit shy at first, but then opened up,Very imaginative and very gifted.But I was even more surprised to seeI had found a new friendIn my newly discovered relative! A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 11 - Should'Ve Said Hello 7am. She’s on the bicycle pedaling very fastAnd listening to another weird song by Outkast.I came in, I know I should’ve said ‘hello’ butWeirdly and despite all manners, I did notThough I had looked in her eyes, and looked deepI still regret it, but my social side was still asleep. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 13 - Twenty Bucks Phone My cousin came to me carrying a phoneMore appealing than an ice cream cone,A 7610 Nokia, black, grey and red'I'm selling it at 20 bucks' he said.My hand reached excitedly to my pocketAs fast as a formula one car or a rocket,But it only came out with a ten dollar bill'Can I pay you the rest later? I swear I will! 'So he said 'you've got your deal, honey'Then he smiled and took the offered money.I touched the phone, it felt sweet like cream,Then woke up, too bad it was just a dream. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 14 - Ways To Give A Test My chemistry teacher, who is actually very witty(He said he's been in Lebanon for three yearsBut he's taught for five years at the university:A pleasant sentence that made us laugh to tears,How could he live abroad and teach here?I still can't manage to grasb that idea, I fear) So my wise chemistry teacher gave us an examFrom some forgotten records of year nineteen ninety,The given questions didn't match the taken programSomething he forgot to check out, oh, calamity! I wonder how do teachers, like him, put their testI mean do they find another year's sessionAnd give it as it is, leaving their minds at rest?Someone's got to take from them a confession! And who's the bloke who has to suffer and not protest?That's the student who must answer questions he doesn't knowJust because his teacher lacked time to put a decent testSince he was watching some stupid television show! A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 19 - Waking Up With The Birds Ultimate peace and silenceFoundIn less than one glance. Noise of the cityForgottenReplaced my serenity. I open my eyesWhiteUnspolied with evil lies. Listen to the echoesBirdsNo fraud, no feared foes. Juste innocent whistelingBirdsWho woke up happily to sing. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 20 - Dogs Hate Me I don't know why but dogs seem to hate me,Whenever they see me, they run, ready to bite meThen, they stand at one centimeter from my feetAnd bark, looking ready to attack, hit and beat.Dear dogs, I don't think I ever did you any harmSo can you please like me and fall for my charm?Or can we start it all again, on a healthier basisSince this hatred in your eyes is causing me a crisis! A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 21 - Shoe Lace And Thyme Bag He's bending down to tie his shoe laceTwo cars pass as fast as if they have a raceMaking the mud fly towards his new jeans,He starts to rise up but then he leansBack and hardly swallows his curseAs if he's saving it to a situation much worse. He tries to tie the lace for the second timeBut it gets loose and lends in the bag of thymeOf the fat old woman standing next to his feetWaiting for a taxi to pass by the streetBut he's too shy to ask for his lace backSo he leaves it with the thyme in the stack. And not even one damn taxi would arrive,Would it hurt him if he had learned how to drive?Sadly, he keeps leaning, looking at the floorSeeking for a magical stone to take him off shore,It's noon and the sun hurts his buttocksA dropp of sweat lands on his Armani socks. Now he's filled with mud from belt to toeThinking how the hell he dropped this low,He's an unemployed twenty five years oldWith a defeated soul auctionned to be sold,Undone hair, sweating forehead and one untied shoeStanding like a fool who doesn't know what to do. He's been waiting for an hour but he doesn't worryIt's not as if he is in some kind of hurry,He just wants to get home before the nightAnd cry himself to sleep as he thinks he might.The lady left with the thyme bag and his laceBut he won't make, from this accidental theft, a case. He keeps leaning towards the floor with such graceSo no one on the street could see his angel face.

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A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 23 - Beirut's Heat The dust is floating in the polluted airLike a silent whitness of people's sufferingAnd the sun is shining proudly like the heirTo a throne that has never had any king.After a few days in the fresh mountain,I'm back to the city's dreadfull heatWith sweat flowing like a streaming fountain,Smelly socks and horribly stinky feet.40°C, the thermometer must've gone furious;With my shirt and pants glued to my skin,I'm somehow getting mad and deliriousIf I walked naked, would it be a sin? A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 24 - Mom, Dad, I Bought Scientific Books My parents were convinced I wasn't seriousAbout my majoring choice in universtityBecause they'd never seen me go curiousAbout anything correlated with pharmacy. But I decided to prove them utterly incorrect,Show them that deceitful are many looks,And rectify their discrediting dialectSo I went to some exposition of books. I bought books about immunology, hematology,Genetics (the topic I like the most) ,Endocrinology, metabolism and dermatologyWithout asking about prices and cost. Then I came home handing them like a trophee'Mom, Dad, I bought scientific books' I saidMy father almost spit his black coffeeAnd my mother jumped off from her bed. Standing like the champion of a crucial fightI was watching their eyes glow with delight. Five minutes is all the time that it tookTo let the idea jumble in their head and cook. But suspicious as they are, they wanted a proofSo I exhibited the six new books with pride,My overjoyed mother would've danced on the roofAnd my father, from happiness, nearly died. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 25 - A Parking Spot Finding a spot to park in center BeirutIs like growing a plant with no root,Parkings are expensive, roads are fullYou wouldn't find a place for a baby bull! And when you finally find an empty spaceYou enter with other drivers in a raceSo if you manage to get there firstYou receive a million curses in a burst. But trying to park your car in that spotYou hurry and you get furious and hot,Drops of sweat, from your forehead, fallTill you find that the place was too small. A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 26 - The Vine The sun is shining in front of his faceHurting him, almost making him go blind,And stealing the last breathing spaceThat he thought he would eventually find. He's surrounded by thousands of grape leavesWhich he has to cut, so the fruits could growBut he wishes they'd be stolen by some thievesBecause at this exhausting job, he's no pro. Now it's noon, he just heard the church bellBut all he feels is pain, through his spineFrom neck to butt, it hurts and burns like hellAnd he hasn't even finished half of the damn vine! A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 27 - Crazy Drivers Have you ever driven a car? I betThe answer is yes, unlessYou didn't drive in Lebanon yetWhich is harder than winning in chess. For our crazy drivers, we're knownMostly, they have barely turned thirteenOne hand on the wheel, other on the phoneThey think you should stop when the light's green. The seat belt, for them, is an old fashionAnd road signs are a weird outdoor decoration,They also don't respect the speed limit:Risking life and making accidents is fun, ain't it? A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 28 - Shy I've always wondered whySome people tend to be shyIs it a helpless fear of society,A deep human despiseOr do they like to silentlyObserve men and criticize? Or perhaps are they some know-it-all nerdsWho have learned a million books by heartBut who lose all of their wordsWhen it's time to play their part? Or do they see a human as a beastWith sharp fangs and a deadly appetiteEager to attack and biteAnd then, on their corpse, feast? Or maybe do they see him as a diceWith multiple faces that come and go?Or do they think people are a puppet show,Funny to watch once, boring to watch twiceBut definitely ridiculous to be in? A Poem A Day

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2005 / 06 / 29 - Rap Duel In A Movie Theatre She stopped silently behind his chairAnd whispered 'let's play truth and dare'Shocked as he was, he didn't know what to sayAfter she interrupted his movie, in a strange way.So without his agreement, she started the gameAnd asked him first about his name. 'Easy woman, he replied, what's the hustle?You didn't even take time to spin the bottle!My name is Mike, I drive a grey bikeAnd if you're up for a hike, I'm here to strike! ' 'Ha-ha, funny guy, I see,But not as much as me.Bloke, ever since the movie startedYou've been stealing my jokes, retarded! ' 'Stealing your jokes, me? No way!I'm just making sure they don't go astray' 'How? By saying them, loud and clearSo that everyone in the theatre could hear?And so that you take all the gloryOut of my gags and funny stories? ' 'Girl, you say your jokes with a small voice,It's your choice,But then, it's my own choiceTo repeat them on a loud voice.Plus, it's not like you own their copyrightRight?So let's just get over it and not fight,Everything's not totally black or white,We could co-exist happily tonightAnd maybe make a deal, who knows? We might!Let's see: you make the cake and I grab a bite,You work in the dark, and I stand in the light' 'Get out of my sight, dude'

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'Oh, girl, don't be rude.I see you are shy, but i am notSo I'll take the glances for you, why not?You just keep this sense of humor you gotAnd I'll take it to the public's lot' 'I don't say all those funny thingsSo you end up flying with my wings! ' 'It's so bad, you're a stubborn girlAnd i'm getting mad, so I suggest you swirlThen get back to your chairAnd I'll forgive you this intrusion, I swear' 'Bragging braggart with no sense of art,If I stop my jokes, you'll fall apartBut you know what? I got a heart,So I'll admit it, you won this partBut your popularity is a heavy cartOh poor you, let me relieve you and hit the top chart.B-bye, I leave you with this fart' 'Hey, wait, isn't there a way to compromise? ' 'Mmmm. No, I don't trust boys with blue eyesI asked you to stop but you weren't wiseNow, I'll say my jokes loud and clearAnd make sure everyone will hear,You'll be stepped on like a pair of used socksAnd crushed so small you'd fit a matchbox!Now sit down and enjoy the showAs you see your fame die, nice and slow.And people will say: 'Poor ol'Mike,He had it all, but he lost the micTo a little girl who was sharp as a pikeAnd who ate him like a candy of Mike'n'Ike' A Poem A Day

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