Anwer Ghani is an Iraqi poet and writer. He was born in 1973 in Hilla. His poems have appeared in Otoliths, Adelaide, November Bees, Zarf, Peacock, Eunioa, Rabbit and others. He is the author of "Narratopoet"; (Inventives Cloud 2017), "Antipoetic Poems"; (Creat Space 2017), "TRUMP; a poetry collection," (Inner Child Press 2017) and "The Narratolyric Writing"; essays (Smashwords 2017). He has 40 books on literature and religious sciences in Arabic. Visit his websites at:https://anwerghaniwriting.blogspot.com/p/blog-page.html and https://www.amazon.com/Anwer-Ghani/e/B06XK5BJBR
I will vanish in the passion of this wind as a goose kissing the lips of the trees. I will disappear in the rose of a legendary lover sprinkles his flowers over heads of dreamers with old incense. I will lie down on a sidewalk of a lake its goose has frosted in a moony night. Her fingers distribute me as a charming letter between its lines a dreamy lover has slept. Yes, I will evanesce between the grooves of her story with a boat on its sail an old hunter had dissolved.
A Goose
I will vanish in the passion of this wind as a goose kissing the lips of the trees. I will disappear in the rose of a legendary lover sprinkles his flowers over heads of dreamers with old incense. I will lie down on a sidewalk of a lake its goose has frosted in a moony night. Her fingers distribute me as a charming letter between its lines a dreamy lover has slept. Yes, I will evanesce between the grooves of her story with a boat on its sail an old hunter had dissolved.
Butterfly
I am a butterfly with colored eyes. On my wings dreamy youngsters have bestrewed and on my eyelids a silver lover has slept. The spikes of wheat shake my hand and the birds of the morning whisper in my ear; that the moon has swum in Euphrates. My colors plant green chants and every bewildered girl the hand of sunset wipes their heads. They will drop in love without return like a dreamer lives in a remote moony cave.
Anwer Ghani
I am a butterfly with colored eyes. On my wings dreamy youngsters have bestrewed and on my eyelids a silver lover has slept. The spikes of wheat shake my hand and the birds of the morning whisper in my ear; that the moon has swum in Euphrates. My colors plant green chants and every bewildered girl the hand of sunset wipes their heads. They will drop in love without return like a dreamer lives in a remote moony cave.
Anwer Ghani
