The White Field
My mother said that the wheat fields are white and beautiful but I see their birds; they are black. Yes, the wheat spikes have come from the Far East in a white night and had seeded all this glory but when I go to our field I did not find white butterflies and all our white colors have traveled toward the gulf. Now you can understand my lost white feelings and you can see all the black colors which cover my smiles.
They said: we know everything even the white roses. Yes; your rights are reserved but we know the places, the white words, and more hidden white things. We work hard to save our white world, so we know everything even the black side in you. We are in the era of privacy and these satellites and internet are just for taking beautiful white pictures. We are in the time of love in white nights. Where is that whiteness? And where is that love? You don’t see anything but redness and you find nothing but antecedent condemnation.
A White Land
The icy lands color my life with a white world, but what you see in my depth is killing blackness. May be the white clothes had been run out. Please don’t steal my dream, and don’t cover my life with illusionary roar. Yes, my foot is cold, hand is so short, and you have a nice whitish tongue but the water in my glass is not warm and not white. Here, in my eyes is a white tree, but here, in my heart is a stolen white land.
Anwer Ghani is an Iraqi poet and artist. He was born in 1973 in Hilla. His name has appeared in many literary magazines and anthologies and he have won many prizes; one of them “World Laureate-Best Poet in 2017 from WNWU”. Anwer writes; expressive narrative poetry, and he is the author of “Narratopoet”; (2017), “Antipoetic Poems”; (2017) and other 40 books. He is the editor-in-chief of Arcs prose poetry magazine. Websites: https://anwerghani1.wordpress.com.