Hunger to Survive

The lion lays quietly atop an overhanging hill.
He waits, watches in the vain fervor that his prey
Will come to him in deadly night like a diet pill
That will stop his hunger and permit his teeth to stay
Sharp, glistening white, creating a shiver of fear
Of their ferocity and ability to tear apart an arm,
Or important extremities that flash their spear
Of speed trying to outrun the King.

The atmosphere of fear is so authentic
That I can feel the lion’s eyes shifting silently,
Watching guardedly, waiting patiently to pounce happily
On his unsuspecting prey.  His jaws are cave like
In their imposing strength and force of bite.

Never fear the lion, for you know he attacks
To survive, not for pleasure.
Fear those who appear like sheep, but are
More serpent or fox, for their poisons
Attack the soul and destroy lives as if doing you favors.


Repairing Life

Reap, repair, revere, reverse, roam, run
Embrace what’s broken,
Practice patience …
Air out your thoughts …

Implement actions to your goals…
Renew your drives
Implement changes
Never surrender to failures
Grow your flexibility and fix the impossible.

Once there,
My repair begins
Embedding …
Tuning into
Having patience
In achieving
New dreams
Gone wild with life!


Aburi, A Haven

I walk through the road of centinal
Palm trees giving shade from the kindle
Of the noon sun, creating shade where only sun lit.

I look upon their majestic trunks
As elegant as a giraffe’s
Reaching into the sky, touching the heavens.

Once you reach the road’s end,
The vista of greens will land
You in a mirage of breathtaking scenes.

A short walk and you’ll reach
Boti Falls, distinguished with two chutes that leach
Into a large aquamarine pond that sizzles

With the force of the downpour,
And hides a cavern behind its ominous core,
That provides electricity and life to all nature.

Moving past such wonder,
You see man’s touch in greater
Spans of space, where a decrepit helicopter

Lies as stage for tourists and the picnickers
To look upon an antique object of wars,
Used to help beautify what’s already astounding.

I watch the centinals in my rearview mirror,
Wondering at my next visit to such a conqueror
Of beauty and memories of times yonder.



Work, work, work,
Workers buzzing like bees in fields,
Running, squatting, cutting, sewing,
Hammering, excavating, rushing.

Always hurrying to meeting
Deadlines and never seeming
To have time to be smelling
The silent burgeoning flowering
That sprout quietly without your noticing.

Beauty sneaks up on you while
You’re worried what comes next in vile
Humanity’s constant vocational
Need to be doing instead of contemplate
The importance of just faith and being.

Harrowing are your days
Of scurrying around in many ways
Trying to achieve a goal that’s always
Too far a ways.

Slow down,
Let your mind be a clown,
Laugh up a storm on your own,
And have your imagination blown!



Reading by me, Malak kalmoni Chehab, of the poem ‘Subjugation’, from my poetry book, Perfectly Flawed. It’s about postcolonialism and its effects after independence.



Romancing Time

Enclosed please find the link to my letter to time, part of the Unsealed contest, it’s published there. Interestingly, the beginning of the letter is an exert poem from my poetry book, Perfectly Flawed , titled: To Time.

Please vote for my letter to win at this link.

I still have time for votes till July 30:

Romancing Time



Heart, ohhh sweet heart,

I long for the days you were red,

Not a sunburnt heart full of dread.

Trampled heart

Disillusioned organ full of cheer,

Don’t give the fight that’ll impart

Moral, knowledge, friendship,

To all those who value

Mentorship over the need for material that rip

Your heart and soul

Replacing them with a money bowl.

By: Malak Kalmoni Chehab


A Little Bit Longer

A poem read by Malak Kalmoni Chehab from her poetry book, Perfectly Flawed.

It’s about loss, and the survivor’s need to Grieve, and wishing that you had a bit more time with loved ones.


They’ve arrived!!!!Perfectly Flawed, by Malak Kalmoni Chehab

Knowing it’s published and holding it in your hands are 2 very different feelings! Elation, excitement, and fear of being judged! But then what’s the use of writing if you’re not critiqued? It shows you’re being read!


Mark My Words?!