شربت خمرا من إلاهي القمر وشبعت بضوئه سمعت سجال الأطياف فإنتظرت قفص من مذاهب وغلمان مسوج برقائق النعمان ولكن … نتن يفوح منه رائحة الأديان سلام قول ومن قول يهان سقطت علي لوحة فنية بعنوان كفرت بإلاهكم فأنا مجرد انسان فرجعت إلى القمر وإليه المستعان by ayman knaifati “Is the sweetness of the cane sweeterThan […]
The Rusty Quill is looking for a contributing author. Preferred categories, short stories and poems.
“And time is a curious thing. Most of us only live for the time that lies right ahead of us. A few days, weeks, years. One of the most painful moments in a person’s life probably comes with the insight that an age has been reached when there is more to look back on than […]
It has been a long time since I blogged, hell or even wrote anything! I lost track of all social media stuff; fuck now there is something called TikTok! What the fuck is that. I see people dancing and twirling like a freaking whirligig. Do they listen to them selves before they post it? Anyways, […]
Born on January 1, 1919, in New York, J.D. Salinger was a literary giant despite his slim body of work and reclusive lifestyle. His landmark novel, The Catcher in the Rye, set a new course for literature in post-WWII America and vaulted Salinger to the heights of literary fame. In 1953, Salinger moved from […]
SIX MONTHS IN A YOUNG WOMAN’S LIFE. “The Bell Jar is a novel about the events of Sylvia Plath’s twentieth year; about how she tried to die, and how they stuck her together with glue. It is a fine novel, as bitter and remorseless as her last poems — the kind of book […]
You go the same pub you order the same exact drink you ordered yesterday. You’ve been going there for along time now, you stopped worrying of who would be there because you are already familiar with everyone. It’s the part of your brain where it keeps sending you those de ja vu images. “Have I […]
Who am I ? I cannot say U see my seasons , they change from day to day Poets, priest assassin, theif.. My magic suspends when I disbelief Who am I? Im just a pack of lies I am a tower of cards Of an old seeing eye Tear down your lying idols And let […]
This piece from Shams Tabriz where Rumi describes his night at the bar: Where am I from? O barman pass me my drink, Pour that cheerful and holly liquor on my soul, O Barman, Put the beloved glass in my hands, thus it is my rock in despair O Barman, You are the […]
