Friday, July 6, 2018

إلى كل من ربطتني وتربطني به علاقة زملالة أوصداقة أوشراكة أو تتلمذ (في الاتجاهين)، أزف إليكم بشرى افتتاح المعهد النموذجي الخاص _الفوز - بمدينة سيدي بوزيد، الجمهورية التونسية. تفضلوا بمشاهدة الفيديو الترويجي باللغة العربية بداية. مع الشكر سلفا. د. علي الهاشمي رداوي.

Thursday, June 28, 2018


I decided to make for the spring
On top of the Rockies.
I left at dawn.
The Mountain was a blueprint
On a backdrop of umber
Perforated from afar
By the hues of the sun.
At thirty odd miles of walk
I looked up,
There was the peak
At an acute angle of head raising
Chirping, calling, beckoning:
“Come over, O, my little Candid,
I got manna for you,
Unseen by human eye,
And distilled extractions
Brewing for generations.
I got too a crystal cap,
An observatory of the heretofore
And a stream to the hereafter.”
But the net was hurled,
Fog outraced me from aback and around;
I couldn’t see the way forward,
And prosaic voices drew me back.

Ali H. Raddaoui

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Eid Ul-Fitri in Sfax, Tunisia

Part of me cozies up into my bedding, beats at primal speed,
Exists, subsists, ruminates, punctuates without a mark
As early morning Eid Ul-Fitri rituals seep into the breeze
Ushering one Season into the next.
Between the thick of darkness and the hour of dawn
Is a moment that escapes the onlooker.
Stepping outside of me
People, total strangers, meet
Exchange greetings and do small talk,
Welcome this stranger into the traditions of town
Explain how local seafarers brought Shermula and Salty Fish dishes
Into the day-to-day parlance of Sfax cuisine.
The other part of me is now high on intercity coach station caffeine
Savors the moment, cogitates it, locates self within it,
Tables its equations and tackles its riddles
Captures it as structure before another episode settles in.
I relish both moments and think it neat
To seize the strands of both ends by the hand
To scaffold my existence
As one side knuckles up into the other.
I feel rooted, having found my bearings on this pedestal,
And being on the cusp of something new.

Ali H. Raddaoui-June 15, 2018

Saturday, May 12, 2018


Like sap oozing through the strictures

Of green offshoots to burgeon here and there

Into flower, foliage or Fruit,

Wild fire sweeps through crannies of the jungle

To quench thirst of a richly textured

Soil crying for cleansing every once in a while.

Long before the daises are pushed up

Let there be shuddering and cleansing

For a daisy is a daisy for but half a day

Fire is then a mere footnote

In the dog-eared records

Of some long-gone socio-sylvan historian

Ali H. Raddaoui


The Shamal Wind ruffles the leaves
Of this one palm tree
Gives it a rest and curls on to the next
And the trees and the shrub
And the grass underneath
All sing to the wind
And the winds swings them
To the rhythm of the song
But the wind when it whirls
Doesn't just swing the trees
The fact is that the grove as a mass
Does some more than submit
To the whims of the Wind
It in turn sways the Wind
and has Him recast His course
Through divers sylvan wafts.
Think of it - They do not sing out at will
Nor does He roam out of will.

I sat through this spring day
Under a Najd palm tree
I sang through the Wind
And the Wind sang through me
And through the Najd palm trees.

Ali H. Raddaoui

Wednesday, May 9, 2018


On the other side of the hedge
It ain’t as cold as you’ve been told
Shrubs chirp
Thrushes hum
Grass grows, comes and goes
Olive groves at this time
lie low with their goods
Ants and antelopes
Tread along with the two-legged
On the sidewalk
Not in a hurry to stockpile
And report
By the hour, every hour
Or clock out of the shop
And go home
Cook an omelet
And eat online
With a chance acquaintance
Whose friendship you transacted
The other evening
On the commute home.
On the other side of the hedge
There is reason to believe
This season will be back
The tide ebbs and flows
Underground water shrinks
And restocks
Regrets to walk back
A memory of time too far gone
To come back.
Altitudes, pyramids
Hierarchies and mountain tops
And water, untroubled,
Passes beneath the bridge.

Ali H. Raddaoui

Monday, April 17, 2017


Imelda, forcibly married to a welder

Had feelings so hard

She morphed into her very own husband.

Ali H. Raddaoui. Salalah, Oman, April 17, 2017