Kneeling over the tombstone,
It is his own,
His own grave.

He whispers
some eerie tunes.

Neglected in dungeons
and the grayish zones.

Trapped in misty places,
He swings,
Intricately, now!

Between life,
Between Hereafter.

Eying from a vintage point,
His own creative village.
 
In charming desolate peaks,
He roams,
Leading some outcasts.
 
Their souls snatched,
Twice.
Crowded they were
in dormant peaks.
 
Sleeping in ruins,
And missing her dearly,
One sightly town.

Stretching its beaches,
ornamental chignons,
A hidden jewel,
An exotic port
of “Salalah”
 
North of the
mountain “Samhan”
Where mysterious caves.  
Where sacred waves
Dashing rumbling on western shores
of mighty “Arabian Sea”
 
The Storehouse of trading routes,
Which carried “Aladdin” and “Sin bad”
in turtle shaped “Dhows”
To the isles of gold or spices.
 
He saw in one life
its Eastern bank.
 
The kingdom of Kerala,
The coasts of Malabar.

Where gods had their recess,
After shaping this world.

Over expanded white beaches,
They played their wildest games.
  
Unruly province,
Namaste.
Wisdom of half-naked
Indian fakirs,
Namaste.
         
Once a summer day,                   
He went to pray
at her temple.

In “Kanya-Kumari”
A point of solitude.
 
Where three great seas
drift open one raging ambit.
 
Where The “Mahatma”
sat bewildered,
Half-defeated one day.
 
There,
In Kanya Kumari.
She had been waiting,
She had been aching
a marriage,
Never solemnized.

Who cares less,
Lovely princess?
 
If wedding feasts are raw.
They are forbidden. 

We are both hostages
Kanya Kumari!

So, let us explore high seas,
Chasing fishermen,
As they venture out.
 
Riding violent waves
of this Arabian Sea. 
 
The kingdom of kerala,
The coasts of Malabar,
Adventures of Aladdin
to the island of Zanzibar.

To submerged islands.
Seeking hidden treasures in caves.
Waiting for Ali Baba or Ali-Boss.
 
All the way to a golden coast
of old noble men.
Who sought their dens back.
Who gave away the rusty cage.
 
Oh yes,
He is reflecting,
When passive his age.
 
Smiling, he wonders,
How life dreams can sometimes,
Be swept asunder.
 

Other posts by Aziz Alkaabi

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 26th, 2008 at 4:29 pm by Aziz Alkaabi and is filed under Of Towns and Places. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.