Paradise

Before you, I was nothing but a sinner who wanted to be a bird’s feather to rest my journey by the gate of heaven

With you, I am a different man who will be a dove to fly out of the universe all the way inside the world of paradise

What Will Remain

What will remain of me today or the next coming year, will it be worth a bird’s feather

The only grief in my bloodroot is the sad song of nightingales like a wedding with a mother in a picture frame

In this life I could live foolishly and lost in problems with a place in darkness to weep till I die

The tattooist of previous wars asked me about my homeland I told him that I was sold to the land of happiness

With a friend who broke my trust, a woman who died before loving me, And parents who denied my existence

What will remain of me, not an expensive pen, but an unreadable diary of the depths of my soul

The Silent Lake

Sitting in the front of the silent lake, with a wind blowing the tree branches, to hear the voiceless conversation ‘tween the leaves and the flying birds

the lake is shining like my tears in the night reflecting the light of the hanging stars with the moon watching my grieves covering my woman from the heat of my nerves

The wine I drink on my own will never wipe my yearnings from the scent of yours, the smile of yours, and the silky body of yours sliding above my flesh in the times where I was reaching over your lips

Life is wonderful because of you, standing in a white dress, with unbuttoned buttons unzipped zipper in the back, waiting on the sunset to unwrap you for a beautiful memory with no end, but a little sleep next to your long hair

Tears of The Sad Stars

The other day; I wore my Victorian suit and I poured myself a cup of English tea. As I take my first sip, I saw a giant Viking ship, sinking quickly. In seconds everything was calm as if nothing happened but a flying

dragon was eating the cold moon. Meanwhile the cookie monster was eating the cookies of the kids who died in the Viking ship my cup was not filled with tea instead it was filled with tears of the sad stars

Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad on May 8th. From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote his very first poem back in the year 2000. He also has been published in several press publications and anthologies all over the world. And he currently studies Political Science at Concordia University in Montreal. He recently has published two chapbooks “The Bleeding Heart Poet” and “Love On The War’s Frontline” through Alien Buddha Press. They are available for sale on Amazon. Many of his new and old poems are also available on his official page Bleeding Heart Poet on Facebook.