Anwer Ghani



I am a suntanned man but not nebulous, so I can count my fingers easily because I am midget as the old tidbits of my mother. I am from here; the south and as well as my grandfather’s dotard, I am always disappearing in our founts’ secrets. Please look at our faces; when you see our eyes, you will find that our secrets are totally nonsecret, and all that strange tales will reach your heart before the morning paean. Look at our earth, we are the farmers from the south; our dreams sleep before the columbine and our subduedness juts out from this land’s furrows as shadows know nothing about the secrets of eternal stories.


Yes, it is me; a farmer from the south. My hair is grassy like a sleepy girl and my dream is heavy like an old train. If you touch my heart you will see the streamy secrets and if you open my treasure you will find the colored stones. Yes, I can escort the sunset and catch its red roses but I know nothing about their chants. Now, I will tell you a secret; don’t love a farmer, because his feelings are inchoate and his passion is volcanic all the time.


I am an invitee gale bears the blemished dreams with small feet. My eyes are groovy like a discovery ship and my skin is a colorless secret. When the revolutionary leaves had seen my red birds, I dissolved madly in the silent voices. Please, behold my inchoateness; it is the beauty of my waste love.Yes, I am inchoate, so you see my words trundle freely and insanely.

Anwer Ghani is an Iraqi poet and physician. He was born in 1973 in Hilla. He is the author of Narratopoet (I. Inventives Cloud 2017), Antipoetic Poems (CreateSpace 2017), TRUMP; a poetry collection, (Inner Child Press 2017) and The Narratolyric Writing; essays (Smashwords 2017). His work has appeared in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Zarf, Peacock, Eunoia Review, Rabbit, and many other places. He has published 40 books on literature and on religious sciences.

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