‘Poem Contest 2,

The creator of this contest, Jojo Al-waealy, promises to not use any of your work for his own benefit. Al work that has been submitted will be only used for this contest. Your work will be shared on the following platforms; Jojoalwaealy.comInstagram and Twitter.

Title:’Her Dossier,

The edges were crinkled

Crinkled or torn where your rose-thorn hands

Gripped and rendered the paper into

Millions of night lights that took on the

Duties of stars.

Your spirit shone in the leather

Blinded me with its perfume

You smelled of summer; cedarwood and

Sand from the bottom of the ocean

Pure as the deep cold water

Touched by moonlight.

Your ribs twist ivy into your spine

White, the bones reach for the edge of the world

Intertwine with the galaxy where I touched you

Curved, your vertebrae emanate hope.

Ink is running low. Like velvet, it drapes

Off you. Shadows and moonlight pool in the folds

I race against the quill to meet you but

You are unwritten; a seed planted and

Watered with the delicate scent of

Petals dropping

Into the cicada-glittered night.

Written by: Jaya Avendel 



Title: ‘Jasmine, 

Dark purple was the jasmine’s rising sun on the crawl. But I don’t think of this color unsuitable on me. A flower of fragrance conjuring up notes through this wind from the mountain. Traveling, like the art of wandering on the road through the weeds of time, of which there is no time for a prowl in the depths of…….. I forgot. 

I forgot. I forgot 

for a minute where I was. In front of the jasmine, conjuring up notes of fragrance, the dreams, the trumpet calling “Jazz! Jazz!” “Where are you?” She hasn’t come yet. But the loudness of her presence is here. Already.

I suddenly feel the breeze going to the sea, fresh out of salt, fresh of jasmine, fragrant and light. Stroking enough to push me. But forward or backwards, that I do not know.

I suddenly shot up Still dark with the birds chirping. I am not here or there with the jasmine.

She’s not here yet. 

Not yet. I don’t know when.

But not right now. And not yet.

Written by: Béa Chahine 



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