The Prophet was there… Said Akl of Lebanon…:
The Prophet was there... Protected by the shadow of the God of Friendship, withdrawn, with a welcoming face
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:59:49+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Prophet was there... Protected by the shadow of the God of Friendship, withdrawn, with a welcoming face
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:59:33+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Orphan She looks nicely dressed, she whose age is seven years, With silvered hanging tresses that belie
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:58:58+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Little King In memory of Philippe ‘Twas once upon a time ... ‘tis thus the fairy tales
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:58:34+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Glorious Return of the Prisoners Israelites and Muslims are eternal cousins, specialized and expert in phraseology, in
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:56:00+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The genius of our Phoenician ancestors... The genius of our Phoenician ancestors showed itself in a number of
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:55:47+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Four-Footed Equine The Four-Footed Equine - See the recent paintings of the subject, year 2007 From Mesopotamia
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:55:24+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Drama of the Carob Tree A howling gale ends this Friday so sad, Breaking off branches in
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:54:39+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Destruction of a Heritage – The Bay: In the story that follows, concerning the usages, customs, traditions
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:53:12+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Blackbird The first time knowing freedom at last he fluttering flew, From birth his wiry cage was
By jasoneldebs|2019-07-19T14:52:56+02:00June 24th, 2019|Essay Creative Writing, Joseph Matar|
The Angler The sea those days was pure and the water it was clear, Not polluted as ‘tis