Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Dec 2014 islam
CommonStory
Untitled
 Dec 2014 islam
CommonStory
Sweet like honey and milk
Only the smoke will appear in the mirror
Smooth like silk
I couldn't understand it any clearer

I wish i could stop the times i experience a profound sadness of unopened events of my heart and future self  in the span of time for things I haven't experienced yet

I couldn't bear anymore of the weight in my interior
Exterior
Inferior of all the things engraved in me

To think I am a fragile being constantly tossed in to a vortex ripped apart fished out and put back together

We are one of them

Thinking of a time only drunk and high questions yet

Still thinking sober thoughts of things you haven't decided to even have the time to think of yet

This is all still the same recital

Of things untitled
© copyright Matthew Mavier Donald
 Dec 2014 islam
Mohd Arshad
Walking in the sunset-lit garden,
I saw a sleeping old leaf in the bed,
And that to my oblivious mind brought
My last bed, woven with eternity-thread!
Notes (optional)
 Dec 2014 islam
Olivia Kent
The flapping of the listeners ears.
Their meddling noses.
Careering through the undergrowth
Thick skinned and worthy of massive respect.
Their ears listen,
But sadly their eyes didn’t see.
The poachers passing by the Baobab tree.

The huge noble beasts.
No-one supposes.
That elephants ever forget.
That’s what the people say.
I guess they forgot the sound of the poachers’ guns.

And they’re probably not scared of mice either.
Mice are pretty nice as well.
© Livvi
Darkness and humour combined
 Dec 2014 islam
Omar Kawash
Sterling eyes close the falling red ward
Big Brother has seen it all
He tells me: there is danger
Terror past the massive, all-protecting Atlantic


Don’t stray there, the mouth
of stumbling heads say,
They want to take away
Our safety, our ways, our Freedom

Mr. Elected reassures
Nothing will harm you
Not with me going there
I don’t want you going there


He speaks like my mom
Warning me of the illicits
I am too vulnerable to experience
It’s death I’ll go to- I’ve been told

Sleepless red monocular
Enlightening the air to a passive blue
It’s opacity beneath and above
Ascending again

Mama and Baba say it’s time to go home
I confront the arid peninsula of Qatar
Lungs accustomed, vitality not frozen
Precariously perceiving the harmful

Sentiments of years past in Jordan,
I wonder why
my kin would ban this place
Rumor on dirt pavement in a draft, ears picking up

The Atlantic is not to be crossed,
A lack of morals, malintentions
lay beyond the scape.

Extravagant grenade above,
Falling to the horizon

And no detonation, collapsing behind a curved veil
Skyward lay the remnants
Of heat, frozen in time
The lips in a box on this shoreside

Warn the zephyrs from the ornery
Reaches towards our home
Be on guard of the deceitful
star at night that rains red


Tomorrow may not be there
My blood brothers of Lebanon say,
But I wait, field of vision
aligned to the east

Aural stumbles translate, articulating
My brethren begin their search of food
And in too many moments unnoticed,
Black on bottom, red on the low, blue slowly suffocating the obscurity above
 Dec 2014 islam
glass can
You can spend years, tears, and fights in unmatched white sheets of your dreams. Or rattle in an train to Istanbul, under their arm.

His curls smell like sweat and he tastes like sweet, touched with hair and a scruff of a beard. He mingles Arabic, English, and French and you feel obsolete.

But do not fall in love with a boy from Lebanon
because sooner or later he will me gone.
 Dec 2014 islam
Jace Kassem
My name is Jonathan.
I'm 9 years old.
I'll tell you a story
that's never been told.

I lived in Lebanon,
and so did you.
Till the year 14
and a thousand times 2.

We lived aside,
your building next to ours.
We were happy, what a bliss!
But there are thorns on all the flowers.

---------------------------------------

I knew not what happened next,
but I felt heat strike my face.
Who would believe that the curse we're living,
was once upon a time a grace?

The explosion happened too fast,
but I had time to take a last breath.
And when you took yours too,
we crawled our way to death.

So we left dear life,
which wasn't always so dear.
But even in heaven,
the cries of children, I could hear.

And I met you,
my dear friend Hussien.
But know that Muslims and Christians
are both being slain.

Just wait till they realize
their killers care not
for religion or for race,
for all was to get shot.

They're both targets,
and enemies all in one.
And our country has become
a battle that'll remain unwon.

Maybe one day they'll wake up
and learn that religion does not
give only them the rights to live
and the others the rights to rot.

Maybe one day they'll learn
that we are all but one.
So why not hold each other's hands
and to the new day welcome the sun?

My name is Jonathan.
I'm 9 years old.
The terrorist, government, and citizens;
the responsibility the do hold.

They ruined what used to be our heaven
and we would no simply obey,
even though most of us
in this heaven are here to stay.

My name is Jonathan.
I'm 9 years old.
And I **** on people
whose country they sold.
This is a poem I wrote about how bad Lebanon has become. It misses a lot of our negatives, like no electricity, no water, etc. but it takes into consideration the terrorism and governmental slacking. It also speaks with a clear voice that religion is all about helping people, even of they're not from yours. Hope you liked it :)
 Dec 2014 islam
r
Lebanon
 Dec 2014 islam
r
Abraham
Where is your son
He's lying dead
On a street in Lebanon
And the God of your fathers
Has left you alone
Wrap him in a white shroud
Cry out loud
Any sensible God
Took the first train out

r
Next page