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Behold – ye infinitesimal being in the sneer of loss:

‘Your lawsuit is called; pull the crumb of yours together to take the floor’,

In pursuit of vice, your conscientious shackled humanoid,

Shall tuck away a staggering moment of cathartic virtue devoid,

Ye, merciless figure of cosmic abyss of vanity:

‘Ain’t you recline in a realm of abominable profanity’,

Call it a stake! Be it a muckle of subjugated time to wake,

Call it a trespass! Call it a detour! Wrathful resurrected rains shall pour,

No panacea to swallow that ailment and blaze the trail,

No use of the crutch of happiness with prevalent wail,

That cocoon of perpetual remedy shall heal in the end,

That boulevard of obsolescence – let alone – shall offend,

Ye, that tiny throe of divine creation, plead that guilt, that misdemeanor, and implore,

An epitaph for your Earthly existence to trigger an ire once more,

Call it a chariot of temporary residence and ‘you’ – a charioteer of loose ropes;

Let leading steed be a scarecrow of hope,

Then, be it not there be a glimpse of raft,

Your buoy to be perforated, through that scorching draft,

No more disdain, no mast, no escape-route but woe,

A delirium of patience underneath imbued somber skies – the foe,

Those velvet green meadows replete with such muse – an iceberg of a dream,

That ardent stamina to move on – a boomerang of gleam,

That hectic contagion of matchless paragon with such a whim,

A chandelier of limbo, oblivion and destitution with oddity o’ him,

Farewell to those seagulls of battered quill,

Those dungeons of countdown to dissipating chanter succumb to still,

Hearken – that tempestuous trumpet of sickles in the wasteland with chessboard heat,

How come those innocent souls beguile of tears – Vie! the tug of warry beat!

Adieus!  that sinful orchard, ta-ta my meadows and bonafide,

No aura of positive telepathic vibes, or a hideout relief to hide,

It was so – that looming silence inside, and defiant serenade withstand,

A stranded skiff of bygone legendary shores drowning; yet, awaiting the final command.

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Ahmed Farooq Baidoon is from northern Egypt, Damietta. A poet, a novelist and critic. His avant-garde literary oeuvre was written in Arabic; namely, a collection of short stories, entitled: ‘A Human being but…?’, ‘Snippets Tinged With Savory of Oneself’, ‘Altar of Imagination’, more and above, regarding the release of poetic Arabic diwans titled: ‘Give me some slack’ & ‘Humanity Shortcomings’, alongside with three novels; namely, ‘Stratagem, thy name is women!’, ‘ Nabhan & the Cask of Delirium’. Besides, some translation works to build up a cultural cauldron throughout the Algerian novella ‘The Legend of the Squirrel’. Worthy mentioning the repertoire of English poetic sharing and epistolary anthologies through social media platforms and magazines; i.e, Verseum, OPA, Poetry Tribune, Meipian, HomoUniversalis, Orfeu, Puspaporvat, Global Poetry, etc… To rejuvenate that linguistic commonplace in tapestry of innovation in some other Arabic poetic electronic fora like Sefrou, Amarji, SIM ‘Snippets Electronic Magazine’.