Mohammad Ikbal Harb- Lebanon

Mohammad Ikbal Harb- Lebanon


Mohammad Ikbal Harb

§ Mohammad Ikbal Harb is a Lebanese poet, novelist, and short story writer born in 1954.
§ Holds a bachelor’s degree in health care management from the University of Atlanta.
§ He has published four books:
– The truth, novel, 2010.
– The Death of a poetess, short stories, 2012.
– The Lover of Amnesia, poetry, 2013.
– Here Lies the Seducer, novel, 2014.
– Birth-Of_A -Poet, poetry 2015
§ Many of his short stories were published in the Moroccan newspaper, Al-Qissa (The Story).
§ Writes a weekly column in Al-Watan Al-Arabi newspaper.
§ Participated in numerous literary conferences, forums and interviews in Lebanon and other countries.
§ A member of numerous cultural, literary, and social organizations.

§ Currently he works with John Hopkins Aramco Health Care as a senior optical specialist.

Desire – A Thought On The Sidewalk

O how do I wish to belong
To some heart
How I desire to belong
To someone
Who’d take me beyond tedium
To the baskets of destiny
Where I may squeeze the wine of joy
From the wheeling machines of pain
The presses of pain

I am swept by longings
To crowded roads
That I may draw the attention
Of one human

From everywhere they come
The roads are swarming with them
Stolen are they by monotony
I am on the sidelines of life
An old stone
Alone on the pavement
People pass by carelessly
For who would care for an elder
Cast out by himself
His face is pale
His eyes are sunken
The wrinkles on his face are an old map
Telling of the fall of a civilization
That has no monument

But I feel a strong desire
For love and giving
And joy among things
Though I am forgotten like the mill of memories
No grinding or fanfare
Besieged by cobwebs
I watch death so that I may bury my desire
In the folds of the night near a shade
Forgotten by someone beside a stone

The Birth of a Poet

In the corner of emptiness
At the altar of the universe
Giving blazed up with light
Spreading its incense
On the hearth of eternity
The sacrifice was blessed
With laurel and basil

The place glowed
With eternal wisdom
With the colors of the universe
And the holiness of serenity
Wisdom stepped generous as a gift
On the body of a human being
Moving his spirit until
His heart throbbed
The temple chanted
Time went into labor
And words were born
It was not magic
On the path
For humans to lay prostrate
And for prayers to be held
It was the torch of existence
Speaking of an entity
That shimmered brightly
Like lightning in the east
Like lightning in the west
Lighting all over the skies
With hope and expectation
That took a man
To the forest of existence
Heaven sent rains
Of wisdom and giving
The heart greened
The tongue uttered poetry
The echo quivered
The temple blazed
And a poet was born

Dumb founded Faces

Dumbfounded faces
Stagnant souls
Wandering, lost
With empty hearts
Overcome with sleepiness
They lie on a mat of humiliation
In the reign of a tyrant
Who tears their robe
And ravishes them
They are hunted by a vile woman
Who throws them in a cask
At the scoundrels’ tavern
And spits evil in it
That she squeezes as a wine of wrath
In the devils’ pollen
Offered by naked souls
Accompanied by the rhythm of illusion
We sip it cheerily and foolishly
At the edge of the universe
Along with the rituals of slavery
We make a fire
With the firewood of dignity
We sprinkle the incense of cowardice
We fall in love with the fire
We feed it with our remains
The drums beat
We thrive with humiliation

Swinging with dignity
And the devil sings
The medley of denial
And we sink in the dunes
Hope runs
And lights up a torch
We’re dazzled by the light
We flare up at her brazenness
We take her captive
The devil binds her
And we throw her in a well
No convoy passes
We deny her even a camel rope
We bury her and leave

With the convoy we walk as captives
Led by the wolves of humiliation
To the dunes of loss
We bury our heads in the dark
And wonder: who assassinated Hope?