On the wall of my empty room

I think I'll hang a picture of rain.

Hitting the ground,

And bouncing up to ankles,

The rain will be wetting my socks

And trousers from below;

My eyes will follow

Roof-edges,

Streets,

Sidewalks,

...tick, tick, tick...

Checking everything on the picture,

Until catching a black brolly,

And the shiny enamel shoes,

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Translation of my Arabic Poem (“The Choice”) 

Who, in the World, chooses his birth? 
Who chooses his family and children? 
Who chooses his fate and country? 
Who chooses the time to go to heaven? 

But it is possible to choose our day 
To sincerely care about family and work 
This will be the first right step to our future 
To achieve our goals while we're alive 

Your name and countr...

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Conniving madness-
ever in the wings- 
has come centre stage 
strutting with a stick 
with which to stir 
a pot of bile and fear

words and foto  Tommy Carroll 

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