Each of these lines appeared in a poem of mine.

  The page was starving white.


  Do flowers know when they are dying? 


  Dawn may be a few generations away. 


  Beauty is the electrical field that gives poetry its magnetic force.


  I think of a poem as an exhibitionist muse flashing her ankle.


  Feminism preceded the human race in the form of wildflowers.


  Decisive like a daybreak, sober like a Monday.


  An eagle can only see forward. 



              © 2025 Mohamed Chaouchi. All rights reserved.