ali al hazimi

Ali Al Hazimi

Ali Al Hazimi (Saudi Arabia)

 

  • Born in (Damad) – South of Saudi Arabia in 1970.
  • completed his studies at Umm Al-Qura University – Faculty of Arabic Language – in 1992.
  • In early 1989, began to publish his poems in newspapers and magazines, local, Arab and many cultural journals.
  • established poetry inside and outside Saudi Arabia.
  • participated in several meetings and poetry festivals Arabic.
  • received an invitation to participate in the International Poetry Festival XIV in Havana, Cuba, 2009

 

Has four printed books of poetry:

  • (Gate of the Body) daralmadina- Jeddah- 1993.
  • (Losing) darsharqiyat- Cairo 2000
  • (Deer drinking its Image) Arab Cultural Center-Beirut 2004
  • (Reassuring on the Edge) Riad Dar Al Rayes – Beirut 2009
  • Audio CD poetry – Hail Literary Club, 2010
  • some of his poems have been translated into English.
  • Poetic about his books many local critics and the Arabs.

 

Print versions which dealt with his poetry:

  • The book (Bird of Fire accompanying print about the experience of the poet Ali al-Hazmi) Moroccan critic / Ibrahim Algahoegi
  • Arab Scientific Publishers (Publishers) / Jizan Literary Club 2013
  • Book (Elements of Eesthetic and Artistic Composition in the Poetry of Ali al-Hazmi) critic. Dr.Leila Shabelle – Dar new National – News 2012

 

TEARS ROLLING DOWN HER SALTED BURNING LIPS

 

We were building sand homes near the coast

When he left for fishing, for the last time…

We raced to return the trimmings of his net

To his little canoe.

 

With little hands

We waved unceasingly to the last wave

That snatched his boat away,

Away from the times of our childhood.

 

Behind the window bars, our little heads squeezed;

With eyes fixed on the coast road;

Mother’s wings spread over our little shoulders

As she injected her body among ours;

Immensely worried about our budding innocent souls.

 

Scared that her long hair may submit to the winds,

railing forward on the metal if she bent

I drew her back towards the warmness of the timber room.

Then I stared at the seashores in her eyes,

And saw the sea travelling far beyond the sand homes.

 

“Sure, he will return,” she said,

Before her tear floored upon my lips— my salted burning lips.

Twenty years did not avail to demolish the sand homes

In our eyes.

The dried out face of my father laid upon the waves

Became a window that looks at the silver years of our age;

An age abandoned in muddy traps.

 

Still, my beloved mother conceals her regrets behind her shadow.

Still, on the mornings,

She makes fresh bread with her dreams;

And at midnights,

She reheats what remains of her wishes on the stove of her soul.

Still, we believe her and eat the bread of her lie,

Just to live on.

 

Ali al Hazmi