The Middle East is a land of magic, history, beauty and a diversity of peoples and cultures. It is also steeped in literature and poetry. Some of these poems are from personal visits there, and stories I have listened too. Others simply on the timeless history of the lands and peoples.
As I have written many poems on the atrocities of war and events in the middle east, I shall provide a link here, should the poems or the images be too graphic. I realize that for many this is a sensitive issue and especially for those who have had to suffer such horrendous events. I do write these stories, as I believe only by learning from the past can we move forward, and also so that others may get a glimpse to the suffering of war, and therefore have compassion for all of humanity regardless or race, color, religion. DO NOT CLICK if you do not wish to see graphic images. Poems about War and Suffering
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Between Graves
Parents cold as stone he lies in a blanket of blood lifeless sleep offers no comfort only nightmares of tomorrow's bombs explosions to kill dreams tyrants sing as the child cries clinging to the dead heart beat of mother and father in the sands of Syria there exists no oasis only the smell of death remains rulers play the devils violin pain drowns all notes no more fairy tales Brothers Grim offer no comfort |
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Genocide
Erdogen polishes golden bullets in his corrupted palace genocide their historic specialty Assad joyously gasses his people triumphant the distant world watches over and over and over a whisper heard no friend but the mountains Americans run away 
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The Phoenicians
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From turbulent seas
rise mighty noble Phoenicians sailors and masters in commerce twenty two constant warriors ancestors of our language four vassals, thriving Phoenician pride furnished the Persian kingdom from the mountaintops tall cedars, sculpted to fine ships humanity forever sleeps in Byblos ancient city bathed in supple cream soft moonlight sea winds carry messages ancestors whispered to me Fragmented, listless an abandoned seashell split in pieces like Phoenicia |
The Village of Hardine
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The Village of the Windmill I may do things the old way Milling grain with windmill dreams Slowly, that's how we caress our desires While the windmill turns My ears listen to the birds that sing My village is quiet now Love letters left here long ago So I mill my grain, as wildflowers grow Softly I dance inside my head Wishing my lover, she was not dead Habibte, my memories are for only you I sell my grain, and pay my dues Within my heart, is only, only you Droughts and war, habibte our love stronger still Holding you, now a silly illusion Back then so soft and so true Our love Torn from our grasp Dream of me habibte I know you are high above Dream of me Soon I will hold your angel wings No wars or evils shall keep us apart I mill my grain on this dreary day Knowing soon, we shall both fly up and away Love has escaped us here on earth The seventh day I sit by your grave I sing you songs as you did to me Oh habibte, let death bring me to thee I sigh each time at your vision of splendor Let kassab make us this miracle Love has patience, habibte Wait for me As I wait for you Kisses forever, boukra |
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A Prayer for Lebanon
This prayer and poem, dedicated to to the victims of the terrorist attack in Beirut, Nov 12, 2015, no matter where evil strikes, we humanity with open hearts shall condemn and hold hands with all the suffering peoples. I wish to offer an immense thank-you to a person who provided inspiration, and retrospection for me, a poet in her own right whom I hope to display here as a quest poet! Eileen Manassian. How wonderful that fellow parts from half way around the world can share ideas cultures feelings and thoughts. Let us Pray Let us bow our heads Let us shed our tears In memory For Nov 12, 2015 For all that has past Do we not now share a bond? Remember those who came in peace So that you may live today To cast your doubts They too, need your hearts Bear no guilt For we are all humans With human fragilities Let us as one Both remember and weep Shed tears and soul to keep For the lover lost The child departed We light candles For all of you Both near and far Beirut loves you one and all The Twelve Angels of Beirut
They huddle together in the heavens
Muttering amongst themselves Confused as any human down below We bestow upon them the ancient teachings Not once, not twice, variations to please all walks of life Yes thrice They may choose the ancient books they follow They may keep the traditions yet must adapt to modern intellect Such literate men who seem not to read Who can cast his eyes at his child? Feeling nothing but love and endearment? Who pray tell us is displeased to arrive at his home at dusk? Angels we twelve have nourished We have showed you both love, morality and compassion Yet ye who divides faith, chooses battle You so easily prefer to drink blood Rather than bestow a red rose upon breast Olive trees so ripe have no meaning at all for you Like a tree that reaches the sky All things change, as evolution’s duty dictates Yet you fight to keep perceptions frozen in time You cover a woman’s face When its you who should hide in shame Modesty is how we bestow good deeds to strangers It is how we look at our hearts in the mirror A woman’s beauty should shine to the heavens Competing only with a mans debonair style of chivalry Honor you mother and father Honor your tribe Not with traditions and rented cloth Honor with your whole heart Feed the poor and kiss your enemy on both cheeks The skies will become your friend We sit here waiting in torment and anguish Crying to the heavens that surround us We gave you hearts and minds You return us blood and bombs We are ashamed of our duties For we have obviously failed you Forgive us, you tribes of the three branches We are the twelve angels of Beirut Whose tears give you your sea |
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SILENT ONE
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Seated upon misfortune
Alone in the dust Ruble all over As far as the eye can see There is truth in war Only dead bodies know the score He sits all alone An exploded bomb his new throne His family all gone They call him The Silent one For he speaks not a word No smile, only stares at the absurd He has not a name All of six, he holds a wobbly cane Made of fractured splinted wood Trucks and tanks moving down ruined streets Soldier’s triumphant, thinking they’ve won If only they saw the stares Of the Silent One Wars make tears very cheap Something in his eyes No tears, just a wonder of the why The hospital is up ahead I stop, no longer the destination I dread I can not move He can not talk I gently pick him up In my arms, he shivers I grasp tight He holds on with his tiny might Not a word is spoken The Silent One Our hearts beat in rhythm He gently embraces my hug I whisper ever so softly You are safe silent one Forever is now with me In each eye, a lone tear appears Shhhhhhh Silent one One day You will sing again I promise Back to black Back in time Back to wine Can’t solve the worlds crimes If only I can save you This one time |
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The Muslim
She looked into my eyes There were tears, she wept She was filled with remorse But her past was not of her doing Senseless death is never accepted Never understood Her sister is gone, no tear undone For wanting to smile, to love, be young Cultures grow old, wither and die Some linger on, and make us cry So stand up, when it becomes too clear Defend those of the weak, those in fear With voices loud, and filled with love We shall rejoice, unveil 1000 doves Kiss away those tears, the pain of so many years Look into her dead eyes, take comfort, she will smile From her grave, she will surely see The anguish left, from barbaric acts This hatred of man can never last A child is she, a shining light Sister, she would grasp your body an soul And whisper, you must continue this fight Forgive those who walk in blindness And cherish those who forgive with kindness |
May humanity know that a woman's smile, is the gift of peace and love for us all, never shall any man for any cause be allowed to take captive the joys of life that belong to all mankind. Stones belong in the past, The Garden of Hope with roses, belongs to this day. 
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The Syrian Devil
Children lie dying Punished for waking up one more day In unbearable heat, in a dirty war They have no generals To defend them From the evils of men They have no advocates for peace All the gods seem to be sleeping As so many infants weep, into deathly silence They exist no more Good men take no action As evil men fight for more blood We must stand up to the horrors And give breath to those too weak to stand We must march on in honor and face the faceless Who wish harm to all with good will Sadness created by Assad For many a year Infants give only love Can we not promise them? Shoofakboukra? Marhaba |
Written: Aug 12, 2013
Notes:
Shoofakboukra = We will see you tomorrow
Marhaba = God is Love
Inspired not only by recent events, but by interviews with people who at the time were children playing with unexploded phosphorus bombs dropped by the Syrian regime in Lebanon.
Notes:
Shoofakboukra = We will see you tomorrow
Marhaba = God is Love
Inspired not only by recent events, but by interviews with people who at the time were children playing with unexploded phosphorus bombs dropped by the Syrian regime in Lebanon.
