Poet Laureate

Umbrellaed by the desert's dawn and dusk, Navigates she with humps of color dust. Intrepid pilgrim of bedouin land, Traversing slopes with her hooves in the sand. Endless Arabian nights she has seen, Denizen is she of dunes so pristine.

Arose from the ground the towered city, Radiant among monochrome, pretty. Amalgamation of tales she does tell, Baring stories of those with oil to sell.

Effervescent emirates of culture, Making their way out from desert's multure. In the distance, she sees, the growth of it: Region where prosperity shall emit. Along it's outskirts her calves now reside, Traded as dowry for the nomads' bride. Enthused she remains at the shepherd's farm, Sardonic of metropolitan charm.

Neophyte expats flood the great nation, Atlantis' striking reincarnation. Time was money as time had nurtured pearls, In the water for the fishermen's girls. Out of nothing had the country made wealth, Nascent economy that grew with stealth. Allegiance is pledged to the realm's monarch, Legislation he passes with remark.

Daybreak casts shadows of towers on her, As she thinks of other camels there were, Yearning to feel winds of change in their fur.

By A na Zaff r, Year 13 By ara ik , Year 9

Through the parable of the sun Eternal Through the endless eyes of light, Through the sweeping confines of The bygone, A man walks cloaked in Time.

‘Walk with me,’ says the man, ‘For long I have forgotten the Sweet lark of company.’ ‘Walk with me,’ says the man, ‘See affiance of opal cast to dials, Enveloping.’

His tongue and face was landless, But his eyes I knew so well. The Tones, were torrid, desperate and Yet fostered Divine.

In one hand he held a compass, Though the needle long fell off, And in its rust and gold I saw, A rapture of beating clocks.

‘The sands cannot be shapened,’ He spoke, ‘They act upon their own whim, But what life bides their folds and Waves, such like Juno in her fond shell, Ascends vast, in empyrean.

And as the torch of Time Moves forwards, And as The suns that pass look upwards, The blood of Ancient, the blood of Lore Berths the ships of mind to dock.’

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