the poetry that matters

Ayat Ghanem

Ayat Ghanem is a writer of poetry and fiction. Of Algerian origin, she was born in France and educated in the UK. Poems have been published in The Battered Suitcase, Sentinel Quaterly, Mastodon Dentist, Lynx Poetry and Poetry Super Highway.

It goes in three stages:
The first awakens to fulfil an ancient need,
clinical, to the point,
reasoned it begs not to be.
It is a fundamental base that one should not neglect,
but that alone cannot perform
more than what was originally commanded.

The second a biting need,
collective and nervous,
expressed in a long qualifying list
on its lines many signs, behind them much hiding,
the only drive a guttural call
to be and exist, conjugated as a dual,
to settle with a Some rather than a body,
to capture in bold this inherent desire
to no longer be lone, multiple nor single.

The third, highest stage and most elusive,
a mesmerised attraction, compelling to the most idiotic of situations,
energies magnetic crashing,
exploding the first act, deafening the second,
no limits nor conscience.

Not even time wants to stop nor pace this most startling birth,
tearing open with swords of pulses and mirth
another universe.

Le Caméléon
He watched me. not
Its rippled lids pretended
A curl of curving smile,
Drew then leaped then hide.

You caught. me
Yet I am The who misses. you
Then you went away
Winking a chameleon.

I seep melancholy
as he sipped me,
I nod like a broken moon.


Not so much dying
Just plain annihilation
disappearing beyond the womb
like pushing down the handle of a cartoonish bomb
lighting with the match of divine redesign
the string to the explosive that will efface my whole line
As if I had never been here,
never been born, never breathed nor spoken nor won't.
Reversing into inexorable time until
all signs of me and my non- and actions
are shaken and emptied,
blotted out.

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