War of Independence (2) Written on the 1st of December, 2012. These misfortunes made me and my poetry shed poetical tears, which fell down to be poems, which through them I could recount and illustrate the PSYCHOLOGICAL - PHYSICAL conditions of the people in my pitiful city, which remained as an ashtray of missiles more than three months. Despite I do loath wars, but I considered the war of independence in Libya as a TOUGH BEAUTIFUL MISS. It taught me severely the Definition of the word Life and drew the figure of Death on the starry nights when the electricity was off. It taught me how the human brain was perfectly created by Allah the Mighty when my ears used to hear the shouts of the aircraft fighters of NATO striking the military facilities of Gaddafi army. Every day, I was anticipating that I would pass away and become a martyred poet. The Spanish dramatist and poet Federica Garcia Lorcas demise was whispering in my mind reminding me how Lorca was assassinated by the loyalists of the Spanish dictator Francisco Franco in the Spanish Civil War; History was about to repeat itself when I went to Tripoli, Bab Al-Aziziya on 24th August,2011 with my friends Issa Alaswad, Alhussein Alhishani and Nidal Alhissan. When I was working as a volunteer editor in the first magazine ever published in English Language in Libya, The Revolutionary. I visited the headquarters of Gaddafis government when it was controlled by the revolutionaries of Misurata, Zintan, Azzaweya Algharbeya and other supporting cities for the revolution; I was going to be martyred there when a meoan grenade was shot by one of Gaddafis mercenaries, but Allah protected me and I could survive. The war had thrown my poetry from an airplane after dressing him a parachute full of rhymed free verse to fall on a field of landmines. I did not abandon writing poetry and documenting those scattered days although the furious blasts of the bombs. Pleasing the intellectual people with the good deeds of the war and the soon visit of the Victory. The explosions of the mines could not resist the symphonies of my poems rhymes; despite I was a little bit pessimistic and frustrated in the first days of the war......( To be continued.........)
Posted on: Sat, 30 Aug 2014 10:52:55 +0000