jamal wooden

jamal wooden Poems

I sit at my desk, surrounded by papers and pen,
A cup of coffee nearby, my thoughts begin.
Each item in its place, occupying its small space,
I take a deep breath, and let my thoughts unfold.
...

Any writer begins with a blank page, even if it doesn't have a meaning.
The painter starts with preliminary lines that don't appear in the final work.
The poet begins his inspiration from his sense of surroundings, not from his thought.
...

The seasons reveal a change in the reasons
Reasons we don't understand, but feel
Existence is a real cause, not a logical one
And we see the reality surrounding us
...

In the depths of existence, a subtle force resides
Connected to all things, yet unseen
It mirrors the world's intricacies, yet with its own distinct hue
A presence that resonates with the soul, evoking emotions anew
...

The sun rises, and the warmth of day descends
Night's chill departs, and darkness ends
In its place, light takes hold
Clouds scatter across the sky, in hues so bold
...

I love those glances that meet mine,
I feel you everywhere, all the time.
I smell your scent in flowers so sweet,
And see your face in sunrise's radiant beam.
...

In Scandinavia, there appears the aurora borealis,
With its vibrant colors, attracting all eyes.
It takes the darkness of the night and transforms it into a work of art,
As the dark sky is painted with the light of the moon and stars.
...

8.

The calendar acknowledges the arrival of spring in March,
But in truth, it's May that brings new life to our earth.
For it's in May that flowers bloom, and the world is reborn,
And with it, hope and love are rekindled, and our hearts are warm.
...

I'm consumed by grief with every memory of you,
From photographs, messages, and all that's linked to you.
It's hard to bear the pain of separation, yet you've gone,
Leaving behind the dreams I had for us, now lost and gone.
...

Mountainous slopes, like stairways to the summit,
But without a race, no rush, no hurry.
Confusions between nature and oneself, beyond understanding,
Mountains that draw themselves with the help of the wind.
...

It's said in divine faiths that revelation descends from the heavens to illuminate minds and illuminate hearts.
And yet, the search for spiritual identity among human beings has become a comprehensive and complete knowledge.

But as for me, your face is enough to render all divine and earthly religions obsolete.
...

يا من أكرمتني بدخولك حياتي وأضأت الأنوار في قلبي
وتركتني ذليلا لمشاعري بعدما علقتني بك فأطفئت تلك الأنوار
إن كانت عودتك لتجني ثمار كفاحي عني وتحبط آمالي
فأنا أقول لك ما دمت سألقاك فإن كفاحي أكسبني مرادي
...

13.

In times of chaos, loud music comes as a balm
And unwanted ideas from kindly strangers, too
Problems arise, and we must face them alone
But sometimes, effort yields its reward, anew
...

الكتابة هي عبارة عن ترجمة الخواطر والمشاعر إلى ورقة ليقرأها الآخرون
تمتعهم وتغيّر بهم وتلمس مشاعرهم وهم ممتنون
وقد تغير فيمن يمارسها ويلاحظ عليه القارئون
فما تغير إما لأجلهم من محبته لهم أو لأجله وهم لا يدركون
...

زارني الوحي في مراهقتي وأخبرني أنني من الصالحين
كما يزور العتب على الآخرين ويخبرهم عن مجابهة الدنيا بما هم ملمين
لم أك لأصدق ذلك لولا البيئة المتدينة المحيطة من الكثيرين
أو ربما أردت تصديق نفسي لألهو كما أريد
...

Behind the curtain, there's another life
With a short reach, but a lasting impact
Colored with the hues of society's strife
Written by hands that are not entirely innocent
...

The waves of the ocean clash against the shore,
Their path begins with the air's gentle roar.
Their brief journey ends on the sandy floor,
Where they resemble the ocean's heartbeat once more.
...

There, beyond the mountains,
Nature's serenity and peace abound.
I sit on my balcony, watching dawn unfold,
As the sun rises from behind the hills, caressing my face.
...

The Best Poem Of jamal wooden

The Desk

I sit at my desk, surrounded by papers and pen,
A cup of coffee nearby, my thoughts begin.
Each item in its place, occupying its small space,
I take a deep breath, and let my thoughts unfold.

I put aside my cigarettes, and let my mind roam free,
The words begin to flow, as I try to clear my mind.
I write to free myself from the burdens I bear,
To find solace in the blank page, and silence my doubts.

But as I write, I'm met with uncertainty,
The answers I seek are elusive, leaving me hollow.
I search for meaning in the depths of my mind,
But it's like trying to find a book on a dusty shelf.

The cycle of life repeats itself,
Day follows night, and night follows day.
I'm left searching for answers that may be hidden away,
And wondering what it's all for.

As I lay down my pen,
I can't help but feel regret,
For taking on this profession that seems unsatisfying,
And wondering if I'll ever find my true calling.

jamal wooden Comments

Close
Error Success