Poetry – Moroccan Realities

Moroccan Realities

Nocturnal creatures

Creep furtively

Through the rubbish

Seeking scraps

On which to be sustained.

Barren wasteland,

Heaps of rock,

Piles of soil,

Regaled with rubbish,

Awaiting sanitisation

Into a sterile future.

Arid flat plains

Of rocks and dust

Bedecked with pylons

Patched with clumps

Of weeds.

Police checks

And border stops,

Eroded mud walls

And highways.

Olive groves,


Of square houses,

Palm trees

And baking sun.

Dusty brown

With blue skies

Motorbikes on trails,

Flocks of sheep,

Minarets and headscarves,

Donkey standing patiently

In the parched glade,

Man sitting in the shade.

Opher 28.3.2019

Morocco was a place of strange contrasts. Out in the countryside, often green but usually dusty, it is a life like it has been for centuries – flocks of sheep with shepherds grazing on what looks like arid sand and rock. Then they get on a motorbike and head home.

In the cities it is a more modern life but with ancient overtones. There are barrows of fruit, beasts of burden, spices, olives and tat for tourists. But the cars and satellite dishes tell a slightly different story.

I'd like to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.