Five little monkies jumping on the bed
One fell down and bumped his head
Mamas not here to call the doctor
And plus the doctor is dead.
Last we heard is he got shot in the head. Continue reading
Category Archives: Writers
Blood by Hawra’a Khalfan
“And in threes they pour.” She whispered and kissed his parted, still lips with her eyes wide open. She couldn’t close her eyes- not yet.
Blood by Batool Hasan
I sit on the cold tiled floor, hug my knees and rest my head on top of them.
A drop of water lands on the crown of my head.
Speeding thoughts slam into each other, words tangle with voices. Continue reading
Blood by Nawar Bashir
We made a promise u and i
Sat underneath the dark sky
We promised wed never let them tear us apart.
We’d struggle, we’d fight, wed tear out their hearts Continue reading
Blood by Bader A. Shehab
Her blood-red velvet dress drunk her skin, shoulder sloped at an angle cutting light in halves below halves of curvature tucked under yarns of episodes of silk, after yarns of silk. Her skin appeared to weave the fabric into worship Continue reading
Blood by Suha
Tough Love
Shifa,
Within you flows my blood, the blood of my mother and my grandmother
and several generations of pious women who’ve held their honour and dignity.
The words you utter are foreign to me. Continue reading
Bloody Mess by Toby Al-R
The wheels of time are rolling and rolling; dragging millions of peons and blind laborers excavating my heart. Operation governed by discrimination and classism empowered by the fascism of greed and a bloodbath of showering dollars. Continue reading
Blood by Merriam AlFuhaid
Blood by Tifa
As long as everything is neat and tidy, there’s little reason for anyone to be too concerned about the life of another. Do you really care? About the young mother you pass heading in to the grocery store, who still took the time to try to hold the door open for you Continue reading
Blood by Fatma AlSumaiti
She held the blade and slid it across her inner thigh. She held it with her left hand. Her fingertips turned yellow as the blood escaped them from the pressure. Continue reading
Blood by Kamanha
This night, he’ll deliberately spend it fetching, finding, falling in the sties of his hate
This light, is a lie played by this nice, rude dude staring at the ponderous skies of his fate Continue reading
Blood by Osman Naeem
From Blood to Dust
30,000 men, 300,000 pints of blood, 1,000,000 pints of ale, charging towards each other with the fury of a war orphan, armed with war music, in a valley unnamed
25,000 men, hungry for a promised heaven, thirsty for revenge Continue reading
Superhero by Ahmed AlRasheed
“What happened?” I asked. “You’ve been hit by a camel, Mr. Rauch. But you seem to be fine. I have checked your vitals and it seems like you have recovered extraordinarily fast.” Continue reading
Superhero by Osman Naeem
My dear Destiny,
You and I both thought I would go after losing my body parts to a four footed fire farting falcon from far far away. It happened! But only in the last issue of that comic book spin off about me. But let me let you know, retirement homes are for the dead, they don’t let me listen to Motörhead here, they say it’s not good for my health. Continue reading
Superhero/Supervillian by Shayma’a Ahmad
Superhero/Supervillian by Toby Al-R
Like the sound of a violin drilling through my bones
I hear you in the pounding waves of the clapping sea
I hear your enfeeble whispers in the dry sand where I stand Continue reading
Superhero by Noragotcharisma
So what is a superhero?
A man or woman with a secret identity dressed in a way that exudes strength and well-roundedness off to do (what they hope is) good in the world. Continue reading
Superhero/Supervillian by Merriam AlFuhaid
I stand face to face with my dependency
My expressive inabilities
I practice fidelity to loneliness Continue reading
Supervillian by Dina Al-Awadhi
If I open my mouth,
I would wreck the world and break your heart
Shatter it into a thousand million pieces
Superhero by Batool Hasan
Dear New Generation,
I still remember my 6th birthday. Looking at the Polaroid photos, I can almost recall the loud singing and mad clapping. I remember the Pokémon birthday cake -because that’s what all the cool kids got- and neatly-wrapped presents, not stupid gift cards in small envelopes. Continue reading
Kuwait Writing Club 