Bubbles in the cup a poem by M.T. Al-Mansouri, Ph.D.

[M.T. Al-Mansouri, Ph.D.]

Bubbles in the cup

 

Pops in the cup and conquests of the vast are surmountable narratives of the splendid universe in the morning.

Islands relativity to beaches, as the stars of the universe, threaten with painful twinkles in the sustained wounds.

Bubbles in the cup with evidence of evaporated water never mix with gasoline or else, an ignition of gases.

The novels of Abu Zaid Al-Hilali and Al-Zair Salem, the Fox and the rooster were antagonistic. They caused chaos, chaos everywhere, but the wise ones discerned and warned the youth. Do not indulge yourselves in those stories. They are sell outs.

Bubbles in the cup when the words rise in encyclopaedias, what do they gain from the hypocrites?

Poetry and prose flourish in libraries of the Arabian societies, but all are enjoyed with funjal coffees.

Bubbles in the cup the geography of the places of the American Indians. Why didn’t they die all of cold winters? Was it colonial warmth that kept them well?

Fragrances in the cup are scents of perfumes in stores and warehouses of the affluent immigrant Asians. Are they Punjabis or Hindus or Lebanese?
They sit with their heads tied tightly with turbans, taste bubbles in the cups of coffee or chai, leisurely eat pistachios and nuts. And these new found countries are the new found joys that replenish their old cultures.