Sunday, 17 December 2017

Silence; And peacefully the music dies down in your tender breast, from "Other Poems."

"Silence; And peacefully the music dies down in your tender breast."

The night has risen over your restless forehead
with beautiful stars
by the black concrete wall where you lay petrified with pain.

A wild animal in the garden feeds on your heart.
A fiery angel
you lie with broken breast on stony field.

In the dark forest of the mind a nocturnal bird's
unending lament
always repeating in thorny night branches.

A mirror on every face you see and a smile.
And often you hear soft steps
tear through the broken images. The blueness of your shadow.

As if you came from the void of Nothingness into
something you shall never be.
And to Nothingness return, empty handed and content.

Full of songs of a sweet homeland, which we long forgot.
Resting in crystalline earth, holy stranger,
till God takes his lament from your dark mouth;

And peacefully the soft music dies down in your tender breast.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

"Clay Mask," Alejandro Gomez de Tuddo Photography, 2017

Note to the reader: This is the last poem from the series "Other Poems." that will be posted publicly on the blog. The blog will also be shut down for a while and moved else where to an official site (will attach link in here in due course), for those who would like to follow up on the poetry.

Till then, keep at it. Whatever it is.

                                                                                                               omar baz radwan

Monday, 11 December 2017

Black Sonata (for the Holy City)

"Black Sonata (for the Holy City)"

There is no one in the House. Winter in rooms.
Memory, a moon-bright sonata awakening at the edge
of the ancient dusking City.
Resounding pain, a cross in the evening.
Soil-bound victory in the indulgent smile of the Dome.

Always imagining the white countenance of Mankind
far from the turmoil of time, and place.
A cemetery of what is yet-to-be-told.
Yet, over a dreaming shape, black branches bend
with dark pleasures.

With purple arms the resounding City is embraced
by a Black Star. Broken eyes of a figure which can only utter
contempt. Under a pale smile.
Mother bore the infant in the white moon
in the shadow of the ancient tree.

The stranger trembles in Darkness
as he quietly lifts the eyelids over a Human shape.
This is His holy bed of stone.
A heart heavy with every sin. The little echo
of a pious song.
Far away, the silver voice of the wind in the hallway,

My heart is exhausted in fervour. 
Over nocturnal dark floods,
I sing my ominous song! 

© omar baz radwan, 2017

                                                              Plan of the Al-Aqsa Mosque and the Qubbat Al-Sakhra (Dome of the Rock), 18th century.

"Now universal humanity awakens to forgiveness. Jerusalem finally melds love with wrath, confronting shadowy Vala whose daughters weave death. As Los sings, Jerusalem appears tri-locational, emanating angelmorphic and descending as a city and a woman. Sexual contentions obstruct Los' work and Vala thrusts her wrath cup upon Jerusalem who is devoured by the dragon to rise again." - William Blake, from Jerusalem, The Emanation of the Giant Albion (ca. 1804-1820)

"Other Poems."

Note to the Reader: "Other Poems." is a series of poems composed over a period of four years, between the winter of 2012 and 2016. The collection hopes to metaphorically capture (as objectively as possible) the aesthetic transmutation of self introspection over the lapse of time, both synchronically and diachronically. The main motif ubiquitous throughout the works is pivoted around the timeless universal pithy, 

Conquer yourself and you shall conquer this world, and the next.  

© omar baz radwan, 2017

              "Clay Mask," Alejandro Gomez de Tuddo Photography, 2017

Legal Note: All poems in the series are copyrighted and registered under the author's name.

Almost out of the Sky from "Other Poems."

"Almost out of the Sky"

Love is too short, laughter is
shorter, the pain has transformed
you into
Everyone, and me into

Through you I'm beginning to know
I do not exist, here where the dim lights
waver on the walls of the cave
of my mind.

My heart has become
the gap,
between what I have been and what
you have done with me.

One face in the mirror,
 and so many questions
and shadows. I came to look for you
and found myself
between your presence and your absence.

You came to be Beautiful,
here, where death and disease are wise,
where everyone demands answers.

To follow that road which leads away
from everything, without anguish,
without hope, without answers.
To return and find that even
love is flawed.

It is not in the object but in
the act,
and I remain searching for you
till there is nothing left to

© omar baz radwan, 2016

"Clay Mask," Alejandro Gomez de Tuddo Photography, 2017

Friday, 8 December 2017

Danse Macabre: in fragments, from "Other Poems."

"Danse Macabre: in fragments"

Crystal childhood
        gazing from golden eyes
               under dark spruces

Love, hope.

Hell's pathways are paved
so that from fiery eyelids
dew drops into stiff glass irresistibly.

The energy is in the fire
wood burns slowly in the eternal
The golden footbridge
                                  breaks up in the snow of the abyss.

This earthly wandering the dream.

A golden gaze sinks into the night,
                                                        the nocturnal valley breathes
blue coolness,

Belief, hope.

Fear, death's dream-grievance
                                               looks from trees and the solitude
of silent fields.

With broken brows and silver arms
the night beckons dying soldiers.
In the black calmness hours

 evening strikes such deep wound.

© omar baz radwan, 2016

"Clay Mask," Alejandro Gomez de Tuddo Photography, 2017

Monday, 4 December 2017

To the Silent, from "Other Poems."

"To the Silent"

In a black deluge of vulgar insanity
a white creature is the lonely man
that marveling moves arms and legs,
purple sockets in which faded eyes roll.

These are neither man nor woman. Neither brute nor human.

Down over buried stairs where demons stand
a sound of deep cymbals, like hope, fades away.
Again a white abyss opens.
Like a Sabbath!

Pressing flaming prurience from the heart,
and their lips, experienced in all Art,
except humble love, swell enraged within a
sharp throat!

Those sing the decline of the sinister City. Dark childhood that plays in a decrepit womb.

Over the petrifaction of the sleeper the Aged Father
bends the good one's bearded countenance that has
gone far into the darkness.
Gliding away serenely in silent windows, the eyes of the gentle
one open,

O cheerfulness again, a white child!

These are ghouls.

© omar baz radwan, 2016 (In italics adapted from Edgar Allan Poe's Masterpiece, "The Bells")


                                              "Clay Mask," Alejandro Gomez de Tuddo Photography, 2017

Sunday, 3 December 2017

The tree, from "Other Poems."

"The tree"

So still another golden day passes.
If not now, then when?
Decay, which gently darkens the foliage.
The eyes still, the tree gray and black.

With greening step you still go past this forest.
Afraid to let go of the sadness 
that the image might fade forever, 
the boy, who with large eyes looks at the sun.

The enraptured cries of dying birds.
The pale sister's mouth whispers in black branches.
The heart bends under a heavy breathing. 
Beautiful is love's dying anguish.

An animal steps quietly from the undergrowth
while the eyelids widen before divinity.
A great pain melted to a dark tear.
The tyranny of blue ice on soft human hands,

O holy injustice!
Narcissus echoes in her golden flute.
Heaven waits silently with broken lips.
Now, a vast silence dwells in the deep forest.

The weary one, in silent modesty enters
the room of the dead and angels step quietly 
from the blue. In the cool leaves the crystalline 
moon glances quietly,

and everyone dies alone.

© omar baz radwan, 2014

"Clay Mask," Alejandro Gomez de Tuddo Photography, 2017