A bench

We had new benches at Ellsworth street...
and they are red...
anybody wanna a seat?
or even a bed?

picture: Ellsworth st, Pittsburgh, PA

أغنية لفيروز

و يأتي المساء
وتغيب أنوار المدينة
سكونُ الليل...والأصداء
لأغنياتِ فيروز الحزينة :
"وحدن بيبقوا متل زهرِ البيلسان
وحدهن...بيقطفوا أوراق الزمان"
وها أنا الآن
وحدي...فعلَ كان
إسماً بلا عنوان
طيفاً بلا ألوان
ومزماراً...بلا ألحان
"بسكِّروا الغابة...
بضلّهم متل الشتي يدقوا على بوابي"
لا...
لا مطراً هنا...ولا أبواب
لاشوقاً...ولاجواب
ولا خيبات
أو ذكريات!
هنا العمر يمضي رتيبا...
فارغاً...كئيبا!
"برج الحمام مسوَّر وعالي..
وهجِّ الحمام... بقيت لحالي"
وتبقى على بالي
لوماً لاأبالي
عيوناً جميلة...
نوراً...في عتمةٍ طويلة
قصيدةً أكتبها
فتذكرني...وأذكرها!
ويأتيني صوتها...
قلقاً تائها...
تسألني...
"يا ناطرين التلج ما عاد بدكن ترجعوا...
صرّخ عليهن بالشتي يا ديب بلكي بيسمعوا"
وأجيبها...
عهد العهود
عليَّ بأن أعود
حين تصفرُّ أوراق الشجر
ويطلع القمر
فهل تراك تنتظرين؟

بلا مناسبة

إليكِ...يا حلماً أخضر في بالي
يا أحلى صباح...صباح النور
يا وردة عمري الغالي
يا أرض الحلمِ... "من حولها سور"
يا أجمل بيتٍ في الأشعار
أهدي هذي الأزهار
ومناسبتي
هي أنتِ
وهل للورد من أسباب؟
أقفُ عند الباب
فهل تراكِ تفتحين؟

سؤال صديقة

وتسألني...
لمن يا صديقُ تغني؟
وتكتبُ أشعار...
ولمن تهدي الأزهار؟
ويأتيها الجواب
بلا ترددٍ...ولا ارتياب
"لها"
لموقظةِ القلبِ إذا سها
لملهمتي..
و نور عتمتي
للكلمة...
تسحرني...فالبسمة
للصوتِ الحاملِ من وطني غيمة
عطراً...ونسيما
للجرأةِ...
على استحياء
للفنِّ...تجسّد في حواء
لأجملِ ضحكة...
للطفلةِ فيها...للمرأة
لعمرٍ أجمل يا صديقةُ قد صار
سأكتب هذي الأشعار
لكنّ سؤالي
لها في بالي:
كيف قصائدي تقرأين؟

مكالمةٌ هاتفية

"ماذا بعد...وما الأخبار؟"
يسألني صوتكِ ناعساً..."عبر البحار"
حالماً...مثقلاً بالأسرار
رقيقا...كنسيم نوّار
ولا أجيب!
وحين تصمتين...
أمجهولاً تخافين؟
أم ماضٍ...منه تهرُبين؟
أشباحاً...غيوماً... مرت من سنين؟
أم ذكرى حبيب؟
ويعود صوتك من جديد
يُدفأُ القلب المغطى بالجليد
وملح أيامي يُعيد
وحرارة الشوق إلى لقيا أريد
أتراهُ قريب؟
وحين تضحكين
تغني الحساسين
وتطير الفراشات التي نامت منذ حين
ويُزهر الياسمين
ويسكرُ اللبيب
فهل إليه عقلهُ تُعيدين؟

حدث من شهر

كنتُ قد أحرقتُ أوراقي
وكسرتُ القلم
وتجمّدت دمعُ المآقي
وصادقتُ الألم
وإذا بأيامي...
كألوان أحلامي
أمست باهتة
كطيور أيلول َترحلُ صامتة
وكنتُ أمضي وحيداً بين الملايين
طينٌ...ويمشي فوق طين!
حتى لمحتُك من بعيد
وتقاطعت طرقاتنا
بلا مواعيد
أنتِ... وأنا
في وجهكِ...لمحةٌ من وطني
وقمر
في صوتكِ ترانيمُ صلاتي.. وفنّي
وأغنياتُ مطر
فهل عن نفسكِ تكشفين؟

ألوان

وردةً صفراء كانت
تختالُ بلونها
حَمَلها العاشقُ...فمالت
تحميهِ من شوكها!
ومع كلمات الغزلْ
تورّدت أوراقها
أتراهُ خجلْ...
أم انعكاسُ خدِّها؟
أو حُمرة الشفاه؟
تذوبُ في عيناه؟
وبين النظرات...
والشِعر و الكلمات
ودفء اليدين...
ونور العين
إذا بالوردةِ الصفراء
قد غَدت حمراء!
فهل بوردتي تقبلين؟

Graduation

I was there,
A tired smile...to share
a name on a diploma.
Memories aroma..
and a black suit.
And there was a clock,
ticking...
And I went mute.

(On Friday June 9th, 2006 was the internal medicine graduation ceremony)

صباحٌ جديد

وفي الصباح...
تختفي أفكار الليل والأوهام
الذكريات...وما قد راح
خرابيشي...وما تكسّر من أقلام
وكألةٍ...أرتدي ثيابي
وربطة العنق اللعينة
وأحملُ معطفاً أبيضا..وكتابي
وأمضي ...لأذوب في المدينة
رقماً...أسماً على بطاقة
زهرةً...دون باقة
ودون ماء
أو انتماء!
من أنا؟
وكيف انتهيت ُهنا؟
ترى... هل تعلمين؟

من أنتِ؟

كان اليوم رماديا
وكان مطر
وشمس المدينة أمست منسية
وضاع القمر
وكنت أمشي وحيداً
يحملني الريح بعيداً
ويعصف بي بقوّة
وكنتِ هناك
يا صوتاً يأتيني عبر الأسلاك
سؤالاً مبهماً في البال
حلماً قد طال
ووجهاً يطلّ من كوّة....
أو من شبّاك!
وأركض هرباً منكِ
ومن السؤال
"من أنتِ؟"
أفكاراً ومشاعر في كلمات؟
صوراً أبحث عنها بين الصفحات؟
لا أعرف شيئاً عنكِ
سوى إبتسامة...
إسماً على شاشتي...
وشالاً أسود!
هل تُراني سأعرف من أنتِ؟

Picture: Another rainy day in Pittsburgh

I'm tired

Tired of everything...
let me hide
everyday...running
from side to side
lost in a city
no mercy...no pity
a cruel tone

tired...and I need a break
away...away
I need to feel...I need to ache
I need a time, to feel the day
to hear the silence
and slowly dance
alone!

(written in a post nightcall morning at the cancer floor)
(picture is courtesy anonymous)

A poem dream...

It was cold,
but he was sweating.
He felt old,
and started running...
far away,
"what a day"!
He needs a space...alone
and it was almost dawn
when he saw the bridge
up the river
standing on the edge
starting to shiver
and there was rain
a whistle...a far train
an old music tone..
a song...and a moan..
"Standing in the rain.
You're on the verge of going crazy and your heart's in pain..."*
should he let it go?
should he withdraw?
"I can't take it anymore"
a lost ship...away from the shore
Closing his eyes...he sees her face
"I need a space"
and here comes the scream
the expectations...the dream..
the day he came
the disappointment...the shame
"No one can hear though you're screaming so loud
You feel all alone in a faceless crowd
Sitting on the side
waiting for a sign, hoping that my luck will change.
Reaching for a hand
that can understand,
someone who feels the same"*
**********
A sudden move, and a sigh
he opens his eyes
"4:30 am"...a clock nearby
and he smiles
"what a dream"...he sits in bed
inspired by a poem...he just read!!

*"Weird"...a song by Hanson
(picture: a bridge in Pittsburgh, PA)
(a special thanx to Eve for the song/poem that inspired the dream, and the post!)

Chocolate

A box of chocolate
dark, and Swiss-made,
your favourite
A candle...a yellow rose
the one I chose.
A dance late.
A maroon scarf,
a beautiful laugh.
A perfect date.
Now...comes the wait.

(thanx for Vivian for the delicious delicious Lindt chocolate...!)

إلى الشهداء

وما أن خارت قواه، وأحسّ بأنه سيسقط...همَ بغريزته ان يمسك بسواعد رفاقه...غير أنه ما أن رأى الأرض تحته، والتراب قد استحال أحمراً من دمه...هوى ليعانق الأرض التي أحبَ
* * * *
باكراً رحلتم
تاركين وراءكم
أشياءكم الصغيرة
وأحلاماً كبيرة
وأسماءكم
وأشباح ذكرياتكم
ووطناً...نراه جميلا ًفي ملامحكم
جميلاً ...كما الأزهار
حرَا...كما الأطيار
نوراً....ونار
عظيماً رغم خلافاتنا
وحروبنا التافهة
رغم خطايانا
وألاعيب السياسة
فهل تغفرون أيها الشهداء لنا؟

و كل عام وأنتو بخير....أشتقنالكم

(picture: Martyr's statue, downtown Beirut, summer 2005)

About me...

Ok...since everybody seems to be doing this, here is my self description.

My name is Hashem and I hate my name.
I hate hearing my voice on a recorder. I hate mostly my "r" having a french tone "ghhhh"!
I hate my hair, as it gets messy easily.
My left leg is weaker than my right and it gets tired earlier.
I write with my right hand, but do alot of stuff with the left.
I don't snore.
I eat fast, and I eat small amounts.
Breakfast is something sacred to me.
If I don't have a coffee by 11 am, I get a bad bad headache.
I'm considered a morning person.
If I sleep after 9 am, I wake up with a bad headache.
I hate most types of cheese.
I don't eat "kishik كشك ".
I don't eat "sawda سودة".
I hate milkshakes.
I eat a banana with my coffee every morning.
I'm very slow in typing.
I make alot of typoes in my chats.
I like to talk. In fact, you can stop me from eating or drinking, but never talking.
I move between subjects without proper stops. Sometimes, this drive my listeners crazy.
I hate slow driving, and hate stop signs. I'm a slow braker, and early accelerator. I tailgate on the highway. I don't use the right mirror in my car, and never undertood why it's there!
And no...I didn't get a speeding ticket, yet!
I drive a Corolla, that I think was originally a BMW!
I was told alot that I'm hyper....hypomanic!
I barely watch TV, but I got one last year and it's on as long as I'm at home.
I forgot to turn my bedroom's lights off before leaving to Beirut last time.
I lost more than 10 umbrellas.
I misplace things alot.
I was told I have a good sense of humor.
I don't know when to say "no"!
I many times replay in my mind conversations I had earlier, and wish I said something bad.
I'm very social.
I have more than 300 contacts in my cell phone. 80% of them are for girls!
I barely make deadlines.
I have 2 palms, that I barely use.
I'm so unorganized in my life, and I hate that.
I don't smoke, and hate smoking.
I barely sleep the night before an exam. I studied overnights in all exams in Med II.
I don't do well in a multiple choice exam.
I do very well on oral presentations.
I had one F grade in one exam in medical school. I didn't sleep that night.
I do believe in god , but I have alot of aethiest friends.
I like greek mythology.
In movies, I like romantic comedies, and some of science fiction.
I love to listen to Fairouz, Julia, Marcel, Abdel-Halim, Majida and Nancy Ajram. I listen alot to Sarah Mclachlan.
I love "Amal Hayatiأمل حياتي " for Imm Kalthoum.
My favourite actress is Jodie Foster. Actor is Al Pacino.
I wish I played music, Piano in particular.
I love babies, and I like to play with kids.
I have great parents, and a supporting family. I can't live without them.
I was told alot that I'm so passionate.
I was told I'm over romantic, and over over nostalgic!
I like women with curly hair.
I like women with black hair.
I like blue color. 90% of my clothes have some blue in them.
I like women in black dresses.
I like minimal, if any, makeup or jewelery.
I hate piercings other than in the ears.
I have alot of friends who are girls. No, I'm not gay!
I like strong and confident women.
I like to wear jeans, even to the hospital. This put me in trouble once.
I don't wear a watch.
I like yellow roses, but tulips are my favourite.
what else...? yeah...my favourite city is Beirut. In the US, it's Chicago.
I hate Pittsburgh, but I hide that.
I still wish I did Pediatrics.
My best month of the year is September.
My favourite season is fall.
I like windy days.
I still love snow, despite how much I curse it.
I don't go to sleep before 1 am, no matter how early I need to wake up next day.
يللا...أستروا ما سمعتوا منا :-)

My south

Here I belong...
Here I exist.
Here are the memories...the laughs, and the song.
sad, and long.
Here I belong.

ﺍﻟﯿﻚ ﯿﺍﺠﻨﻮﺐ
ﺴﺄﻜﺘﺐ ﺃﺠﻤﻞ ﺃﺸﻌﺎﺮﻱ...
ﻮﺃﺠﻤﻞ ﺍﻠﻜﻠﻤﺎﺖ
ﯿﺍ ﺃﺤﻠﻰ ﺼﻮﺮﺓ...ﻔﻲ ﺤﻘﻴﺒﺔ ﺃﺴﻔﺎﺮﻱ
ﺴﺄﻜﺘﺐ ﻠﻠﺬﻜﺮﻴﺎﺖ
ﻠﻠﺤﻘﻞ...ﻠﻠﺼﺨﺮ...ﻮﺍﻠﻂﺮﻘﺎﺖ
ﻭﻠﺑﻴﺘﻲ...
ﻤﻼﻋﺐ ﻂﻔﻭﻠﺘﻲ... ﻭﺍﻠﺨﻁﻭﺍﺖ
ﻠﺪﻜﺎﻦﺃﺒﻭﻋﻠﻲ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻠﺴﺎﺤﺔ
ﻠﺘﻌﺐ ﺍﻠﻔﻼﺤﻴﻦ...ﻠﻠﻤﺤﺮﺍﺚ...ﻮﻠﻠﻔﺠﺮ
ﻠﺼﻮﺖ ﺍﻠﻤﺆﺬﻦ ﻴﺪﻋﻮ ﻠﺼﻼﺓ ﺍﻠﻈﻬﺮ
ﻠﻠﺰﻴﺘﻮﻦ...ﻮﻠﻠﺼﺒﺮ
ﻮﺴﺄﻜﺘﺐ ﻠﻬﺎ
ﻮﻠﻀﺤﻜﺘﻬﺎ
ﻠﻠﻌﺼﺎﻓﻴﺮ ﻓﻲ ﻋﻴﻨﻴﻬﺎ ﺤﻴﻦ ﺃﺮﺍﻫﺎ
ﺫﺍﻚ ﺍﻠﺧﺠﻞ...ﻓﻲ ﻤﺤﻴﺎﻫﺎ.
ﺴﺄﻜﺘﺐ ﻠﻠﻐﺼﺔ...
ﻮﻨﻬﺎﻴﺔ ﻗﺼﺔ
ﻮﻠﻠﺮﺤﻴﻞ

I'll be back....o my south
will you wait?
I'll be back....it's a date.
Tell the birds...in the sky
I'll be back.
Tell the roads....the passing by
I'll be back.
Tell the trees....old and tall
Tell them all...
I'll be back.
Tell the morning...
I'll be back....at a noon
I'll be back...very soon.

*this post is dedicated to Eve
** picture: south Lebanon, summer 2005

L'inachevé

How did you end up...a portrait on a canvas?
a dry flower...in my vase?
and a poem....never written,
or forgotten.

Black and white

Just when he thought the night folded the page of the day,
and he was heading away,
She came.
A black dress, a smile, and he's not the same.
And it was dark.
It was time to ask.
And they walked.
Confusion....and scattered words they talked.
He liked black and white.
A phone ringing, and time was tight.
He followed the flow.
He let it go.
She didn't act stupid.
There was no cupid.
There will be more time to come.
They went numb.
And they walked in opposite directions.

(picture: Walnut street)

Memory

Walking up the hill...
it was cold and cloudy...
and when the wind blew...
my heart woke up,
and...a flashback:
a windy day in 1993,
my first day at AUB....
registration day.
Biology 201...MWF....conflict....drop and add....
SLH...
English placement test...
Nicely 500...
"daraj el chemistry"....el-kharoubeh....
Chem 101...lecture in chemistry 001...Kasparian
the green table infront of agriculture...
the science library....the glass room in the back....
The picture widens....I saw AUB...
my family....my home....
Beirut....
Lebanon...

Memories....memories....
why did they suddenly bombarded me from everywhere?
I stopped in the middle of fifth avenue....
who am I?
what am I doing here?
how did I end up here?
Why do people suddenly look faceless?
Walking in one direction?
carrying a starbucks coffee...and marching like machines....
And I notice I was carrying one myself....
marching like a machine myslef!
I threw it away....
and I walked quicker....
up....up the hill....
away....away from the memories....
"I'll not be part of the system"
"I can do better....I can do better"

"Good morning", a smiling face greets as I enter the hospital.
"Good morning!", I return the greeting, and the smile, still shivering.
Slwoly, I calm down.
And slowly, I forget.
Slowly, I feel I belong here again.
at least for the moment.

(pictures: top: one of my favourite places at AUB, in the way to the lower campus, Beirut, Lebanon, taken summer 2005.
Bottom: Fifth avenue at the turn up the hill to Presbyterian hospital, Pittsburgh, PA, taken today.

My pager

I have a pager,
and I hate it!
Small,
stylish,
but very annoying!
It's unpredictable,
and goes off usually when it shouldn't!
Sleeping,
eating,
or flirting....
it still goes off!
Tired,
frustrated,
or feeling fed up,
it still goes off!
When on call,
post-call,
or on my day off,
it still goes off.
ouff....ouff...
If I try to ignore it, it beeps every 30 seconds,
protesting my behavior.
And I feel bad,
and checks the number, and picks up the phone.
Only then, it stops beeping!
My pager,
I hate you!
When you ring,
or vibrate,
or even silent..
I hate you!
Morning,
or evening,
I hate you!
Awake,
or asleep,
or dead,
I hate you!
(ok...you are ringing again....let me check who's paging!!)