ali habash

Rookie - 96 Points (7-30-1965 / iraq-baghdad)

Fingers - Poem by ali habash

They used to translate the war
for a newspaper;
My fingers
Filled with the dead.
They are tasteless in bed.


The fingers that cross
Over the breasts at night
Are the same fingers that pull
A trigger,
Write reports
And open prison gates.


Fingers that left their prints
On a bus near the Zawra Gardens
And on a rusted gun
At the Rashid Barracks
Have filled with snow;
With letters that cannot write from the left.

Topic(s) of this poem: poetic expression


Comments about Fingers by ali habash

  • Chinedu Dike (3/23/2015 2:47:00 PM)


    Fingers which are capable of rendering charity are also capable of horrendous crimes. The beauty of poetry is in the articulation, encapsulation, and penning of thoughts. A lovely poem written with insight. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 23, 2015

Poem Edited: Monday, March 23, 2015


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