Description: Morocco's reigning monarch, King Hassan II,
likens his country to a desert palm:
"rooted in Africa, watered by Islam and
rustled by the winds of Europe."
i love moroccoan essence - the culture and religious practices, the last beautiful sunrise painted with all the colors of the known rainbow. i highly recommend (if you've the inclination) researching this amazing country.
Sacre Bleu!
The midday meal is
midway through;
the arresting wakeful
spices of the
Tagine have already
come to settle and
gone drifting away.
the Couscous is littered
with flesh of The Lamb
and the seven lucky
garden treasures
fuel the vociferous,
tightly embroidered
conversation.
just tea the shade
of Nature, national pride and
belly dancer's eyes
then the dusty Moroccan magic
will be broken.
Hi. Your poetry is so commented on, you hardly need another one. I'm really only browsing through a few of your poems to get to know you and your style. Mostly I like what I see. I agree that sacre bleu is the wrong flavour for Morocco, but what a good idea to write a spice poem. I'm tempted to try one myself. Spices have such exotic origins to their names. Ginger for example comes from a Sanskrit word meaning antler and the ramifications of the clove-gillyflower connections are worth tracing. Turmeric I think is connected with the Latin for mother earth and so on. Evocative vocabulary for an evocative subject. I shall browse your work more.
you've definitely captured the essence of morocco in this poem, in my opinion. it is an extremely exotic country and that reflects perfectly in your poem. i love listening to moroccans speak.. the language sounds very guttural but there is something extremely poetic about it. i was confused with the line 'just tea the shade'.. is it missing a comma..? it's an insignificant point that really doesn't take anything away from the poem though. beautiful.
I agree the last two lines are not as good as the rest: the ending might just be too neat. I think the pictures should linger, rather than be cut off by those last two lines… The rest is incredible. Becky
not at all tired, which is usually what i get after a good meal..but i feel awake...my nostrils tingle and even burn slightly, my eyes close to closed yet absorbed...mind alert, not racing, waiting for input....lost in found.....
See how you make people tell you things. Like a psalm almost. Really, it was just like that but read from behind filligree windows as the thinnest dog is beaten by the heat.
couscous littered with the flesh of the lamb....the capitilization of lamb strikes me as a reference to Christ, but i could be wrong. I like the opening lines, they're very attention getting. Morrocco is quite a cool country indeed, btw....
since you brought up magic, why not end the poem with a puff of smoke. That's my only quip with this piece is the end does not seem as good as the rest. I really like this piece though, and I really like lamb maybe you could include more about the belly dancer j/k Very exotic, Nice Work!
this a poem very different from the ones i have commented on. Very discriptive. love how taste is sewed in there. tHE ENDING was my favorite add that pizazz to others u wite i like it.
i love the imagery in this. its such a mysterious poem! haha, i love it. i can totally see everything and could almost taste the couscous. i like couscous. haha, interesting topic made an interesting poem.
OOooh, I'd go to Morocco! I want to browse in the souks and the bazaars and they are very friendly people, I've met a few... I think it would be a great holiday...
When reading this... I fely like someone had picked up a fire-coloured pashmina and wrapped me in it before sprinkling saffron in my eyes as I drift asleep to the sound of the muezzin wailing. Gorgeous.
Submission Name: Moroccan Dust
j/k Very exotic, Nice Work!