An Invitation In 3 Quatrains

Forget the sweetness of life ,

Mine surpasses it ..

Needless to struggle or strife,

I just hope that I fit ..



Approach me, my hands do unfold,

And emit abundance of serenity ..

Come nearer, but weigh and behold,

You may not like my tranquility ..


I neither kiss, nor use my lips to bite,

I never show what one needs not to see ..

Yet, you just come, into my ample light,

I'm a foresaken orchid, you could be my tree!!

First Book: Whodunit?

Some memories never fade away ..............

I have been reading mysteries from a very long time. It all happened by chance. I think boredom has to be thanked, at that time.

In the end of Summer of '88, I was both alone and aloof. My elder brother had pity on me, and acted as a brother should: he offered me some short stories. They were small; they were old; but their covers were still as bright as the sun that shines everyday.

I still remember the feeling .. the sensation felt from touching the yellowed papers .. I still recall the chill received when I read the names of the adventurers .. They were five and a dog .. They were friends, and they were intelligent.

And since then, the spark never went off ..

They say that Books are the Best friends, and it is very true.

Yet, all the thanks .. goes to my brother ... whom I may have never thanked ... and to the first mystery book:

The Balloons' Seller:

Ponder

Sometimes .. a Picture .. a Saying .. especially if they were both Holy .. translate what tongues can not express and words fail to summon :

It a Blissful Bless to know the Righteous Road .. and the Peaceful Path that would lead us to the Total Truth!

Math = Poetry!

I was in class today, monitoring students who have a Mathematics examination.
They were two classes: BE7 and EB8 ..
The students were solving, writing, and busy with their drawing utensils ...

All of a sudden, the queer French Mathematics teacher ventured the room ... He murmured some kind of salutation that was accompanied with several nods (as Hi, good morning, how are you), in addition to several movements of the lips (similar to: I am fine, asking about your health ..) .. He is definitely not a sociable teacher .. on the very contrary, he stated from Day 1 that he has his own rules regarding Teaching and he doesn't follow the school's regulations!

I said, he ventured inside the room .. and started looking at his students' answering sheets (EB8). He stopped at one in particular and shook his head. I guessed that she was wrongly solving an exercise. The guess was , of course, right.

What stroke me was his reaction ...
Suddenly, he turned to his students .. put his hands behind his back .. explicitly showing his round and large belly .. raised his head up .. and without looking to the examination paper, he recited the mathematical Exercise word by word .. with special stresses upon certain points, numbers, and letters ..

It was not Math .. surely not Math ..
It was more like a recitation of a Poem to Coleridge or to Keats ..
The passion that was translated with every uttered word was highly far than a simple statement of a 'given' to be 'proved' as so and so.
The 'airy' voice, the stiff posture, the steady gaze ... make one believes that he is witnessing a grave moment of inspiration, leaped swiftly from the Edens of words to the tongue of a stout and experienced poet, and were recited by the spur of the moment !!

I have never sensed such a mingling feeling ..
Things were always acute and crystal clear ...
Yet, one can not always await for an apt response as long as he doesn't really know what is the nature of things.

Two Paths

In these hurried lifestyle, I fight to gain a free space for me everyday ..
The space is not for mundane issues, but rather for simple retrospection in my passing days ..
I tend not to judge, but to monitor .. and analyze ..

What stopped me recently, is the fact that there are many 'people' whom you think they are going to establish a relationship (whatever the notion holds), and regardless the 'sex' element, yet, they stun you with their deep indulgence in their industrious and diligent work or routine. It hurts to know that one estimates or maybe overestimates others without considereing whether they are up to such estimation ...

I tried to analyze this phenomenon . .
And reached a conclusion that is growing to become a belief ... that such People are not very much "walking on the same path" .. each is carrying his life (with its little occurences), holding his worries (and there is much to hold), and lifting his own dreams/fantansies/and many times his own expectations(!).

I wish for all the best.

.. And Me !! ..

"" Teacher ... TEACHER .. write for me , please .. Write anything .. in any language .. write it with your nice handwriting .. to remember you .. ""

With such words, my students are saluting me these passing days .. It is the end of the school: Students have forgotten all the vicious and barbarous acts of their teachers (:D they truly describe us in this savage hues) .. Teachers have reached the time where a Smile is worth much than a Slap, where a Wink could do fourfolds more than a Shout, and where leaving a Good Memory is normally far more better than leaving a Dull Trace!

So, a clever and brilliant student (Areej) began the process of collecting the teacher's souvenir or what we call a "keepsake' or a 'token' .. and the move was copied by the Entire class ..

Areej's souvenir's book was very tidy and smells of flowers .. It was both decorated and filled with fading pictures of nature and love's symbols ..

As for the students ... they tore papers from their Agendas .. Copybooks .. Books .. Diaries .. and proudly asked for something written ..

It was frustrating ..
Writing to me needs a form , a style, as long as to an inspiration ..
Sometimes, papers inspire me ... other times a nice fountain pen would do the trick ..
You can not tell .. why in this moment my handwriting was perfect , and in the following second I appeared to be ignorant of the Calligraphy rules!!

It is the Details ..
The little details that entail every reason ..

.
.


And the funny thing ... is that ... when you finish from about 8 or ten papers ... another student screams from behind:

Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. and meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !!!

And as funny as it may appears - to some - , the mere statement .. the askence .. implies a hidden need of Regoniotion that hasn't been fully developed at this age, but still growing!! It gave me a sensation of Pity and Sympathy to these little souls that are in need to being Recognized and Identified in a world that has lost its normal standards and in a neighbourhood that has created its own Laws and Creeds. Such traits in a personality should not be aroused at this young age,, for where is their Childhood? and most importantly, where is their innocence? Among these rushing crowds .. these noisy mob .. I feel that I am the only Innocent Figure there ..
Trying my best to teach Simplicity rather than Complications ..
Love and Compassion instead of Intense Animosity or Hostility ..

I try to teach my own Ideologies ... but in their own Language .. Through their own Images ..

I try ..
I share ..
I give ...

But, still .. there are many ...
Screaming:

Teacher ............................ And meeee!!

(!!ش.ك.ر.اً. (كلمة يلبسها الإستيحاءُ خجلاً

هو ذلك الشُكر المخضرمُ
ما بين أسطورة الأمس المنسيّة
و ترنيمة الحاضر الواعي

ذاكَ المدلهمّ بالليل
بالصمت
بالسكينة
المتدثّر بالحمرة الخجلى
خفراً

إنهُ الشًكرُ
النابعُ
: من محلّةِ الإنتظار
كان كامناً
يتربّص
يشفي حالةً من التهميشِ
،إعترته عن إفتراء
كان مشرأباً
يرابطُ
يرمي رنوةً كل حينٍ
! نحو السماء

هو ذاتُ الشكرُ
يا صاح
ذاتهُ الذي ينبعُ
من مصدره الأمّ
نفسهُ العابرة
بعتي المشاعر
الحاملة لأجنة المحبة
النابضة
بالصدق
هو ذاتهُ
يتَّضع أمامكْ
يرسمُ سهماً
ينحتُ قلباً
يخطُّ حرفاً
أو بعضُ حروف
.ش.ك.ر.اً
....

.ج