Here I am.                                                                                                                                                On my toes again

With His Highness Sheikh Hamdan bin Mohammed Al Maktoum, Crown Prince of Dubai, I’d like to tap on my words to give rise to a new tune.                                                                  If I may, It’d be the sweetest.

Perhaps a song will be made flesh.

 

From an article on google, I found his name

Thought the name was intriguing

I read through the pages

It budded out to some more pages and now, I’m interested.

Until my head knocked out some sense in me.

His Highness smelled honor and true justice

May this poem warrant me no death penalty

But His Highness spoke wisdom in His poetry

And hooked my heart like a fierce Falcon

His poems I long to deserve

to be able to plant them through my deeds.

May this nourish the lives of my comrades

From the land that nursed

And protected my people.

 

My land watered my flesh and taught me

Better things with Pride and Dignity.

Penning this does not steam my fears away

It does not seal the raving sea within

Oh, have mercy!

I do not pray to be pried for a breach of any law.                                                                            I adore the Prince like a child; like the biggest fan.

 

Did two of my face’s bright windows

and wooden door awaken the depths of impossibility?                                                                A real Prince married to a pauper: a pauper to a real Prince.                                                        This I ought to be the truth.

To stand in love with the Crown Prince; a stranger to me but never to my country.              Even I knew the odd one out.

 

Prince,                                                                                                                                                   (it has a beautiful sound to it.)

 

The vast sand where your people have set up their Bedouin

To shelter other tribes from the coldest nights;

To shield their skin born out of embers from the frowning sun

Truly was majestic.

How the strength of desires immortal amplified the splendid stories of every person—

You lead them as the camels with their humps on their back in a jovial mood; attentive to the curse of the living nature.

When sandstorm whirls any present debris to hurt your friends

Your arms are spread before them so that

Each sorrow is painted clean

With you; the omnipresent man of your Kingdom.

 

 

The world is a walking sin                                                                                                                    (it cultivates pain and oppression)

It hogs greed and livens up power

It survives through clanging metals; banging tanks instead of music and the rhythm of a poet.

I breathe fear from amongst my veins

I folded my heart in sick rejoice;

Not to have faith for those who locked their eyes against your eloquent pursuits.

 

I remember, as a child, the smell of

burnt leaves that do not leave my skin unless I bathe.

My loneliness destroys my bosom

Every time the cry of silence dominates.

But as a repercussion, I call out to the wind

To seek your protection.

 

Perhaps I adore you

And the rumors alongside you.

O, what do I know?

 

But with you, My Prince

to whom the stars worship,

to whom the seafarers find on a dangerous cruise

His life a delicate

His wings of hardened gold

And, clothes a spotless—

I sing my praise to the Highest

For in my dreams, I once desired

A chance, a time to feel a true Prince

in my stride.

 

O, what a dream; a steadfast one.                                                                                                    O, what do I have to illuminate?                                                                                                          I wonder.

 

With His army aiming to win every battle

Granted one dares to speak ill of His name

Will blow the mightiest Tower away

Regardless.

 

I do not possess what the precious Dolls have; a fragile body and a glass house.

But my home is lumped by people with calloused feet and toiling hands

and I only have the sun in my heart.

I walk without fame

Not well-acquainted with Dirhams

But if one can find love and prosper joy

What’s wrong with that?

 

I saw a pale blue light illuminating the mountain peak

Right before darkness invades to immobilize the city

Before this sentiment transforms into madness

to sadness

Head over to my house and,

Bring me the gift of endurance to which I owe this ‘would be’ masterfully crafted moment.

 

Love,

A