Another Solitary Stroll
in the Medina
In every path I cross there is something
A lost childhood dear memory lingering
In the narrow lanes of Medina sweeping
Is an old wrinkled lady veiled in a scarf
Long years of misery have left deep scars
On her innocent dewy-eyed fresh face
Time with its reeling wheel never efface
I bowed gently her hand wanting to kiss
She swept me with dim eyes of a princess
I saw in her deep brown eyes a future case
Of my sentimental state which never cease
Cheeringly I pressed a dime in her soft hand
She wondered being such a generous is hard
In a time when everything means the reverse
She bountifully pelted in grateful praising verse
Delighted to see there is still some good
To be found in every blooming single bud
Bend-headed I walked down the empty street
Aimlessly in a rugged robe heading to sunset
I pondered on many empty-bellied children
Stuffed in every sidewalk miner’s mansion
To the sea, to the sea let everything sadly drift
In the ocean of red ink let everything gently melt
Justice, equality, dignity, honour have been there
In times and areas defined as brutally primitive
I call everybody who might be still sensitive
To linger patiently behind every closed door
And hear a painfully suffering rugged soul
On A valentine’s Day Night
With the absolute truth of your absence
In my buzzed crowded head, darling
Nothing else could I ever think to do
On a restless empty valentine’s night
Spent alone in a deadly cold room
But to accept a long woozy vigilance
Sipping big glasses of hard-boiled coffee
A sweet Marrakeshi peppered coffee
Fused beautifully with some Soul music
Sung by the genius blind Ray Charles
With a battered Naked Lunch copy spread
Carelessly on my beat-up scratched desk
I hung my head reminiscing about you
Leafing through our past memories
Travelling time in stagnant pictures
Wading in fantasies of lonesome dreams
A lover weeping alone desolately broken
Is what wretchedly I believe myself to be
I wish you could be here with me tonight
To angelically sleep by your tender side
To hold you tight and endlessly kiss you
Just as Adam and Eve first did in Eden
Before sin, guilt or shame even existed
Les Fleurs
du Bien Pour Toi
Even when it rains
The feelings is the same
Even when it shines
The feeling is the same
Even when the wind blows
Between its palm carrying
Dry leaves as they drift
Even when the grass sings
Sweet melodies for butterflies
Dancing as they throbbed
The feeling is the same
Quite as redolent sesame, the same
A feeling sensed by a soul
So cheerful as it journeys
To put those lush flowers
On an arcadian doorstep
For a dear blossoming heart
Only flowers once called
Les Fleurs du Bien
Are to be uniquely bestowed
El Habib Louai received a B.A in English literature and linguistics from the university of Ibn Zohr and is now teaching in a Azaytoun secondary/high school in Agadir, Morocco — soon to pursue a master’s degree in Comparative Studies in Ibn Zohr university, Agadir, Morocco.
DM du Jour 