MOHAMMAD SKATI Poems

There is something called criticism, There is something else called self-criticism, There is someone called a critic, There is someone who likes to criticize, There is someone who likes to be criticized,
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Only pure fire purifies the bad in hell Only pure fire was made for the bad souls Only pure fire washes the evil doers with its flames Only pure fire waiting for the mean people
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If every time I want to be with someone I fail in my attempt because It is my fate like this and my hard luck too, I am alone in my feelings and in my emotions Because I did my best to be out of it, but I failed greatly and gradually in everything,
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I am not bad, but I am in a bad time Because everyone and And everything have Turned different, I am not bad, but I am in a different Age in our time,
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I love everyone and Everything, I love the fallen leaves of Maryland and its pretty creeks, I love the pretty Washington And its pretty buildings, I love Latakia and its pretty
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Tomorrow I will have an unfinished Poem about tomorrow itself because The new dawn which will come will be A part of tomorrow and a part of my Unfinished poem,
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They are the prettiest days In our life, They are the greatest memories In our life, They are the innocent times In our life, They are the wonderful thoughts In our life, They are the sweetest
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The HEART is the pretty house of LOVE, The TENT is the imposed house of a REFUGEE, The WEB is the engineered house of the SPIDER, The HOUSE is the pretty house of the MAN,
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Everyone is waiting for something And that thing is still missing, But there is a pretty hope coming Out of the sufferings and the pains Of the the displaced, the hungry,
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