Biography of AbdelAziz Alhaider
When they open your eyes by the dangerous big operation
When you saw all those sad faces of your people
You were Crying until you became blind again
AbdelAziz Alhaider's Works:
Iam now at the shore of memory river ready to drink...
itis my first dose
AbdelAziz Alhaider Poems
The coming back to zero point
The coming back to zero point Abdul Aziz Haider He was creeping with the time
Behind the wall of alienation there is a sound raising with screaming brutal Ringing the bell with loose rope in the waking memory and forgetful memory Behind the alienations glass with whisper…..with tears this child heart will broken Drowning in tears... In the words of stone... and the bitter cup
Around the fountain
The words were flowing….colliding….snapping My erupt from the fountain of sorrow The closed door….the few hard verses The first surprising fountain……the smell of paint…the lilting of the rhythm
This open sky of my pictures And no one look This crowd dancing in the festival of my pictures And no one look
Magician who is breaking this arch of the blossoming sleepy under the eyelids? Who is breaking in of this dream.... Rose.... And flooding on the shores of most sad longing and suffering and hardship......! !
There, ….. there is no sea, there is no blue There is no wood in the foundations of the subject of the docks
Memories The river is spreading a memory made by mud and small stones alluvium... palm leaves
Insights from behind the walls
My icon of sorrows is in front of me and the dead bodies of days are behind me This … the reader in the silences valleys of wisdom hymns
My Little Ragamuffin
O Little Tramp.... my poor heart festivals of cranky and the ego flying as a smoke In the multiple
sit down to the sea
The time and the wave are roaring …….and the time Extends as a coast of myth fog As bodies of the cunning sessions As the bodies of the days dumped onto orthogonal to the city and the sea
Abdel-Aziz Haider the boats are returning
One word ...
One word 1985-2009 Abdel-Aziz Haider
No thing is as this moment ….the pleasure is a newly born of the imagination A baby of dreams Who laugh…cry…smile…singing under the colored water of the life All ways we are drinkers
Sitting Under The Vine Of Bacchus
Under the foot…. or exactly beside the large finger the celebrated clan were sating in circle that will completes the circle of every things…………. all things Goddess of wine. Lord of the poetry..., 'says not the sea
Hijazi stethoscopic tone
Are all nights those surprised us are the strange?
Are all ways those we digging are no things more than illusions and worms nestle in the wound?
Are all treasures of-pearl and ruby of heart... of the brazier's essence of the spirit?
Not more than the stones lying on the path of from falling? ?
Our lost are those steps watchful us and the passion, as they said from the oldest of the old burns lovers
And we burned... but still not be irrigated from the wound of the nights... and not be