.. The research is still ongoing.. Written by.. Thanaa Sidtah.. لايزال البحث جاريا.. بقلم.. ثناء سيدطه

لايزال البحث جاريا 

عن قلب بلون الفرح

بكل اتجاهات البوصلة 

 يشبه معزوفة 

لا يتلون كالفصول 

يبقى طفلا 

منغمسا بالأحلام 

حتى آخر شهقة 

عن نبض  كأحلام السماء 

نقي كغيمة تائهة  

تروي كربة روحي الشجية 

عن حكايات لايسرقها الحنين 

عن وجود أكون فيه انا  

ويكون هو أنا 

حتى تتلاشى الأنا

ثناء سيدطه

The search is still on for a heart that is the color of joy in all directions of the compass. It resembles a piece of music that is not colored like the seasons. It remains a child immersed in dreams until the last gasp for a pulse like the dreams of the sky. Pure as a lost cloud. It tells the anguish of my sad soul about stories that cannot be stolen by nostalgia for an existence in which I am me and he is me until the ego fades. Praise of his master. 

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.. The son of the martyr.. Written by.. Jamil Bakri.. ابن الشهيد.. بقلم.. جميل بكري..

{  إبن الشهيد  ]   

إفرح يا إبن الشهيد

يا شبل يا إبن الإسود

النصر  جاي  أكيد

والحق لازم يعود

إفرد  بقى  جبينك

وإمسح دموع عينك

دم  أبوك  الشهيد

كان عشان دينك

ولما  دمه  سال

ع الأرض كان أنهار

ولا لحظة قلبه مال

ولا خاف رصاص ولا نار

ما خافش م اللي خان

ولا إللي باع أوطان

ولما جات له الشهادة

أخدها   بالأحضان

أصرخ بأعلي الصوت

لا تخاف رصاص ولا موت

إهتف وعلي في صوتك

خلاص مات السكوت

إيمانك بالله  سلاحك

إتحدى به الوجود

حطم  كل  القيود

وأعبر  كل السدود

يا شبل إكبر وكبر

صوتك يعدي الحدود

إهتف  الله  أكبر

زلزل صوت البارود

الأقصي لسا بيصرخ

الظلم  ليله  طال

بينادي ع الأبطال

راحوا فين الرجال

بينادي بأعلي صوت

راح فين صلاح الدين

مستني يوم الكرامة

مستني يوم حطين

بلدك أمانة في إيديك

خليها جوة في عينيك

ومن  رصاص  الغدر

رب الوجود يحميك

يا أسد  إكبر  وكبر

صوتك يعدي الحدود

إهتف  الله  أكبر 

زلزل صوت البارود

جميل بكري

{Son of the martyr] Rejoice, O son of the martyr, O young lion, O son of lions. Victory will surely come, and the truth must return. Spread the rest of your forehead and wipe away the tears from your eyes. The blood of your father, the martyr, was for your religion, and when his blood flowed on the ground, it was in ruins. Not for a moment did his heart have money. He did not fear bullets or fire. He did not fear... The one who betrayed or the one who sold homelands, and when the martyrdom came to him, he took it in his arms. Scream loudly. Do not fear bullets or death. Shout for Ali in your voice. Salvation. Silence died. Your faith in God is your weapon. Challenge existence with it. Break all the chains and cross all the dams. Oh cub, grow louder and louder. Your voice crosses the borders. Shout, God is Great. Earthquake. The sound of the maximum gunpowder is still screaming injustice. A long night has been calling for the heroes. Where have the men gone? He is calling in the loudest voice. Where has Saladin gone? Waiting for the Day of Dignity. Waiting for the day you put your country as a trust in your hands. Keep it inside your eyes. From the bullets of treachery, the Lord of existence protects you, lion. Grow bigger and bigger. Your voice will cross the borders. Shout to God. The biggest earthquake was the sound of gunpowder, Jamil Bakri 

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.. I am Islamic.. Written by the Arab poet.. Haitham Muhammad Abdel-Al.. أنا إسلامي بقلم شاعر العرب. هيثم محمد عبد العال

أنا إسلامى 

وحامى سنتى 

وقرئآنى

من ملحد

 ومن علمانى

ومن صهيونى

 أو لبرالى

أو حتى كان 

هندوسى 

ولا بوذى 

وماجوسى 

ولا كاودايه 

ويهودى

أنا إسلامى

ومعنى السلام

 ف إسمى

فأفهم قبل 

 وما تمثلشى 

دينا سلام للكل

 ماظلمشى

لكن عداتكم فعل 

ما حصلشى

ضلالكم بان 

وفعلكم 

شان ينجسنى

نفسي تفوقوا 

من أوهامكم 

ما يخدعنى

كلام معسول

وزن فى ودانى

رخيص منبوذ

ملهش أصول

وفرعه قطيع

وجاموس

أنا إسلامى 

أنا الفارس أنا الحامى

أنا مؤمن بدين واحد

فسيبهم ووحد الواحد

تجيهم من ربى دعواتى

أنا إسلامى

......... 

بقلمى 

#شاعرالعرب 

هيثم محمد عبدالعال

I am an Islamic and a protector of my Sunnah and my Qur’an, whether an atheist, a secularist, a Zionist, a liberal, or even a Hindu, a Buddhist, a Magian, a Caudaist, or a Jew. I am Islamic, and the meaning of peace is in my name, so I understand before and do not represent a religion of peace to all who have wronged me, but your habit of doing what happened to me is your misguidance, and your action is something that defiles me in my soul. Your illusions do not deceive me. Sweet words weigh in my heart. Cheap. An outcast with no origins. Its branches are a herd and a buffalo. I am Islamic. I am the knight. I am the protector. I believe in one religion. So leave them alone. My prayers come to them from my Lord. I am Islamic......... With my pen #Arab Poet Haitham Muhammad Abdel-Al 

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.. You ask......... Written by.. Fidaa Hanna. Syria تسأل........ بقلم.. فداء حنا. سوريا.

تسأل.....

تسأل ماذا أقصد... أقصد أبوابا باليأس تصنع دربا مقفل

 لا تسأل عن بوحٍ أخفيه وخلفه قلب معتل

دع نار براكيني نائمة والأحلام على شرفاتها هائمة على قيد الأمل

فكلامي سهامٌ في النحر صائبةٌ

وتسألني ماذا أقصد....

لا تسأل........

   دع حلمي يعاتب عتبات البيت المقفل 

والنبض في شرياني يسري كشلال يروي روابٍ تختال رغم الألم ولا تمل

فصمتي يحكي ويثرثر يجعل من بوحي أصم يشكي ويتغزل 

يا غيم السماء أمطر عليا عشقا

 لأتغنى بمناقبه وأبتهل

جفت تربة قلبي وتشقق شريان الحنين بعد التعب غادرني دون أن يفرح أو  يتهلل

لن أغضب.... لن أعتب...لن أكتب شعرا

لن اذهب......

فأنا غدوت صفراء كسنابل تغتاب الشمس كي تذبل

 أتقبلني بلا نبضٍ أو روحٍ تألفك وللأوهام تقبل

لن تقبل .....لن تعشقني....لن ترسمني بين أمواج الحلم والعقل

فيكون جفائي خطوطك الحمر

بقلمي فداء حنا

سوريا

You ask... You ask what I mean... I mean doors of despair that create a closed path. Do not ask about a revelation that I hide and behind it is a sick heart. Leave the fire of my volcanoes sleeping while the dreams on their balconies roam alive in hope. For my words are arrows in the slaughter, and you ask me what I mean.... No. You ask........ Let my dream blame the thresholds of the closed house and the pulse in my artery runs like a waterfall irrigating hills that struts despite the pain and does not tire. My silence speaks and chatters. It makes my deaf revelation complain and flirt. O cloud of the sky, rain love upon me so that I may sing of its qualities and pray. The soil of my heart has dried up and an artery has cracked. Nostalgia after fatigue left me without being happy or rejoicing. I will not get angry.... I will not blame... I will not write poetry. I will not go...... I have become yellow like ears of corn. The sun is angry so that it withers. Accept me without a pulse or a soul that familiarizes you, and for illusions. Accept. You will not accept. ...You will not love me....You will not draw me between the waves of dream and mind, so that I will be dry with your red lines. Written by Fidaa Hanna Syria 

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.. With the remembrance of the Chosen One, my heart finds rest.. Written by.. Ferjani Kahat.. بذكر المصطفى قلبي يستريح.. بقلم.. فرجاني ڜحات

بذكر المصطفي قلبي يستريح 

وحبك يا نبى بمضى لنفسي تصريح

اموت في شوارع الذاكرين شهيد 

بحب محمد افوز فوزا عظيما 

هو الذي ترجى شفاعته والعشق له دليل 

بين العزف والانشاد يقترب الخليل خليله 

يوم الحشر الحمد تحت عرش الرحمن مقصود

فذاك اليوم الحب للمحب جليل 

العيون لشوق رؤياك تسيل 

والصلاه عليك محمد تزيدنى نشريفا 

تعاليت بهديك فصرت بالعلى مذكرا

واسمك بالرحمن موصول وذكري لك مفروض 

تفردك بالشفاعه دليل مكتوب وبالكون اسمك مكتوب والأرض اسمك مذكور 

لا أقول اشهدا الا واسمك مقرون 

العيش دون هديك سجن بالنار صمت لا يحول 

يا سيدي اسمك بالعرش مكتوب 

محيت ذنوب أدام حين ذكرك للرحمن مستعينا 

كفي بالاله لك ذاكرا 

ان الله وملائكته يصلون علي النبى ياايها الذين آمنوا صلوا عليه وسلموا تسليمابذكر المصطفي قلبي يستريح 

وحبك يا نبى بمضى لنفسي تصريح

اموت في شوارع الذاكرين شهيد 

بحب محمد افوز فوزا عظيما 

هو الذي ترجى شفاعته والعشق له دليل 

بين العزف والانشاد يقترب الخليل خليله 

يوم الحشر الحمد تحت عرش الرحمن مقصود

فذاك اليوم الحب للمحب جليل 

العيون لشوق رؤياك تسيل 

والصلاه عليك محمد تزيدنى نشريفا 

تعاليت بهديك فصرت بالعلى مذكرا

واسمك بالرحمن موصول وذكري لك مفروض 

تفردك بالشفاعه دليل مكتوب وبالكون اسمك مكتوب والأرض اسمك مذكور 

لا أقول اشهدا الا واسمك مقرون 

العيش دون هديك سجن بالنار صمت لا يحول 

يا سيدي اسمك بالعرش مكتوب 

محيت ذنوب أدام حين ذكرك للرحمن مستعينا 

كفي بالاله لك ذاكرا 

ان الله وملائكته يصلون علي النبى ياايها الذين آمنوا صلوا عليه وسلموا تسليما

بقلم. فرجاني شحات

With the remembrance of the Chosen One, my heart rests, and your love, O Prophet, has passed to my soul as a statement. I die in the streets of those who remember. I am a martyr. With the love of Muhammad, I win a great victory. He is the one whose intercession is hoped for. Love is his guide. Between playing and chanting, the Hebron approaches his friend on the Day of Judgment. Praise is under the throne of the Most Merciful. It is intended. For on that day, love is for the lover. Eyes are glorified for the longing of seeing you and praying. Upon you, Muhammad, you make me honorable. You have come with your guidance, and I have become a reminder of the Most High, and your name is connected to the Most Merciful, and my remembrance of you is supposed to make you unique through intercession. Written evidence. By the universe, your name is written and the earth is your name mentioned. I do not say I bear witness except with your name linked. Living without your guidance is a prison with fire. Silence does not prevent, O my Lord, your name on the throne is written. Adam’s sins were erased when he mentioned you to the Most Merciful. We seek our help, God is enough for you, remembering that God and His angels pray upon the Prophet. O you who have believed, pray upon him and give salutations. With the remembrance of the Chosen One, my heart rests, and your love, O Prophet, has gone to my soul as a declaration. I die in the streets of those who remember. I am a martyr. With the love of Muhammad, I win a great victory. He is the one whose intercession is hoped for. Love is his guide. Between playing and chanting, the friend is approaching. On the Day of Judgment, praise under the Throne of the Most Gracious is intended. That day, love is for the lover, majestic is the eyes for the longing of seeing you flowing, and prayers be upon you, Muhammad, make me honorable. You have come with your guidance, and I have become a reminder of the Most High, and your name is connected to the Most Merciful, and my remembrance of you is supposed to single you out through intercession, written evidence, and the universe is your name written and the earth your name is mentioned. I do not say bear witness except with your name associated with living without. This is a prison with fire, silence that does not deviate, O my lord, your name on the throne is written. The sins of Adam were erased when he mentioned you to the Most Merciful, seeking help. God is sufficient for you, remembering that God and His angels send blessings upon the Prophet. O you who have believed, pray for him and grant him peace. 

.. Enough blame.. Written by.. Howaida Muhammad Al-Hassan Othman Al-Kamalabi.. كفي ملامة. بقلم. هويدا محمد الحسن عثمان الكاملابى.

كفى ملامة

فالنفس تتوق للهدوء والسلام

كفانا ضجيجا وكلاما

ما عاد تكفى الملامة

كان حبنا هدوء ورقة كلاما

ثم أصبح حربا

وطارت عنا حمامة السلام

ترى من فينا الملام؟!!

كنت أراك فى المنام

كان صوتك كهديل حمام

والآن أراك كابوسا لايهدأ ولاينام

أصبح صوتك ك نعيق غراب

يهوى الفراق والدمار

يهوى ان يهد مابيننا من عمار

كيف حدث مابيننا وسار؟!!

وحمام السلام كيف طار؟!!

وكأن مابيننا أصبح حربا وثارا

نهدأ حينا ونثور تارة

وكيف لانخجل من الحب وقد كسيناه عارا؟!!

وكيف بعدما حدث نلتمس لأنفسنا أعذارا؟!!

كان حبا وانتهى وأصبح عقوقا

ك عقوق ابن لأبيه كان من المفترض ان يصبح بارا

وأصبح باردا بعدما كانت اشواقنا حارة

وتناقلت الألسن شائعات فراقنا

من حارة ل حارة

ووشوشت كل جارة فى اذن جارة

ان حبنا هد كيانه وأصبح خائرا

وتبلبلت افكارنا واصبحت حائرة

واصبحنا حديث كل مارة

وهرب السلام من دارنا

وطار الحمام وماعاد زار

وتعبت من ملامتك مرارا

واصبحت بيننا عداوة جهارا

وماعادت قصتنا بها اخبار سارة

بل اصبحت وباء ومرض ضار

وشنت بيننا للحرب غارة

وشبت بيننا للفراق نار

وماعدت تجدى الملامة

بعدما اصابنا شك وظن وملل وغيرة وقلة فى الكرامة

بقلمى...

هويدا محمدالحسن عثمان الكاملابى

Enough of the blame, for the soul yearns for calm and peace. Enough of the noise and talk. Blame is no longer enough. Our love was calm and gentle in words, then it became war and the dove of peace flew from us. Do you see who among us is to blame?!! I used to see you in a dream, your voice was like the cooing of doves, and now I see you as a nightmare that does not calm down or sleep. Your voice has become like the croaking of a crow that loves separation and destruction, that wants to destroy the people between us. How did what happen between us happen?!! How did the doves of peace fly?!! It is as if what is between us has become a war and revolt. Sometimes we calm down and sometimes we revolt. How can we not be ashamed of love when we have covered it with shame?!! How, after this happened, do we make excuses for ourselves?!! It was love, and it ended and became disobedient, like disobedience, a son to his father. He was supposed to become righteous and became cold after our longings were hot, and rumors of our separation spread from one neighborhood to another, and every neighbor whispered in her neighbor’s ear, that our love destroyed his being and he became timid, and our thoughts were confused and confused, and we became the talk of every passerby and he fled. Peace has come from our home, and the pigeons have flown and no longer visit. I am tired of blaming you over and over again. There has become an open enmity between us, and our story has no longer brought good news. Rather, it has become an epidemic and a harmful disease. A war has been waged between us and a fire has broken out between us for separation. Blame no longer works after we have been afflicted by doubt, suspicion, boredom, jealousy, and a lack of dignity. With my pen... Huwayda. Muhammad Al-Hassan Othman Al-Kamelabi 

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.. The madness of love.. Written by the poet of love and sadness.. Shatouh Othman.. جنون الحب بقلم شاعر الحب والحزن.. شتوح عثمان..

**جنون الحب**

تَجَنَّيْتُ فِي الْحُبِّ حَتَّى الْجُنُونِ  

وَمَا أَنْتَهِي مِنْ هَوَاهُ الْمَكِينِ  

تَغَنَّيْتُ فِي الْلَيْلِ وَالْحُزْنِ يُبْكِي  

نُجُومَ السَّمَاءِ وَذَاكَ السُّكُونِ  

أَرَى كُلَّ دَرْبٍ يَؤَدِّي إِلَيْهِ  

وَكُلَّ الْكَوَاكِبِ فِي كَفِّهِ تَكُونِ  

أَرَى وَجْهَهُ فِي الْغُمُوضِ ضِيَاءً  

وَفِي كُلِّ مَا فِي الْوُجُودِ يَبِينِ  

فَهَذَا جُنُونِي بِحُبٍّ عَذَابٍ  

وَلَوْ كَانَ يَقْتُلُنِي فِي السُّكُونِ  

سَأَبْقَى أُحِبُّهُ بِكُلِّ جَنُونٍ  

فَهَذَا الْغَرَامُ هُوَ دَاءُ الْمَجُونِ  

تَغَلْغَلَ فِي قَلْبِي فَصَارَ نَبَضًا  

وَمَا مِنْ سَبِيلٍ لِنُورِ الْعُيُونِ  

إِذَا مَا نَأَى طَيْفُهُ فِي الْبُعَادِ  

أَرَانِي عَلَى الْجُرْحِ أَبْنِي الْحُصُونِ  

فَإِنْ مِتُّ فِي حُبِّهِ فِي سَبِيلٍ  

إِلَى الْقَلْبِ لَا مَرْجِعٌ مِنْ سُجُونِ  

فَدَعْنِي أَعِشْ فِي جُنُونِي سَعِيدًا  

فَمَا طَعْمُ حُبِّي بِغَيْرِ الْجُنُونِ  

بقلمي :الكاتب شتوح عثمان

**Madness of love** I have gone mad in love, and I have no end of its abject desire. I have sung in the night, and sadness makes the stars of the sky cry, and in that stillness I see every path I will go to him, and all the stars will be in his palm. I will see his face as a light in the darkness, and in everything in existence it will be revealed. This is my madness with tormenting love. And if he would kill me in the tranquility, I will love him with all years of time So what we have seen in dimensions, I showed me the honesty of the fortresses, so if I died in his love in a way to the heart, there is no one who is happy. My madness is happy, my love does not taste like anything other than madness. Written by: Writer Shatouh Othman 

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