Poetry Reading

Part I

of Childhood and War

Memory of The War

For book information click Here

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Self Publishing

Featured

Today marks the first day of my book being LIVE!

Stranger Paths, The Magic in The Madness Poetry Collection Paper back can now be ordered on Amazon ! I am beyond excited!!!

I designed the cover using Photoshop and a photograph I had taken on a beautiful foggy winter day. Used KDP to self publish and here we are!

If you have any questions about self publishing, do not hesitate to ask!

This book is 10 years in the making, maybe longer. It is about war, hope, and inspiration. Starting from the Iraq war and my childhood, to moving to America and living life the best I could.

Reviews so far describe it as
“One of a kind”
“Can’t stop reading it”
“Such an interesting story”

To list a few

I am overwhelmed with community support and so grateful to be a part of this world.

A world where an Iraqi woman can have a voice. This is so much bigger than a book being published.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1728741637

The Pond [Audio Poem]

A hesitant kiss on the cheek, close to her mouth,

He doesn’t know what to do, can’t stop the train.

Soon she’ll be gone.

The frogs in the pond, he yelled, they are begging you to stay… it’s not just me!

These trees! They cried all night while you laid between the sheets.

And you know the cricket, that one that you asked me to take outside, he sung by our window all day long…it’s not just me dear, it’s not just me!

She couldn’t look him in the eye. One way ticket is all she can afford. Is all she wanted– secretly.

The vibrations of the ground told him that the train is near.

There’s nothing he can do

He looked at her, with a sad smile: “look at me darling!”

“You know, the mountains won’t meet the flat ground you’re going to…the smell of hot concrete will make you miss the pond’s stench. The stars! They won’t be visible dear! Won’t you miss the stars?”

Her cold hands that he held on to were so warm once.

She wasn’t in love anymore. The pond was a thing of the past…she’s ready for the next train.

She didn’t even pack her clothes

A hand bag is all she took, filled with papers and colored pens… and a dried old flower that he couldn’t remember giving to her.

She hasn’t stopped loving him; she just needed a new muse.

Her fuel was inspiration and the pond has run out.