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Lynn Al-Abiad May 2017
خدني ع مقهى يونس



لين اا -
إدمان محتمل

24/05/2017
Michael J Whelan Apr 2017
In the orphanage a child
cowers from cursing men outside.
She wants to climb back into
her dead mother’s womb
and hide inside its warm, soft,
un-edged safety,
where no explanation is needed
or reason to hide under splintered
staircases or run the gauntlet to basement
bomb shelters, existing minute to minute
with strangers until the dawn arrives with her
deliverance and she refuses to be born.


Michael J. Whelan
From PEACEKEEPER collection (Doire Press 2016)
see also https://michaeljwhelan.wordpress.com/
Aditi Kumar Nov 2015
The guns won.
Humanity lost.

The love we thought we all shared,
Shattered and the shards pierced our eyes.
The dead wanted to stay dead,
But those who are slaughtered from the soul
Want all of us to be that way too.

Hollow
Dry
Hungry
Loveless.

On this day, I don't even want to pray.
I have seen what religion does to people.

It's not a War that's brewing,
It's a force field:
One that hides us from each other,
One that forbids communication.

We are a confused people.
Painting our false faces won't help.
And now,
I don't know what will.
Our humanity was stretched thin, but now it is torn like a lion ripped it apart with it's gnashing teeth.
All good people agree,
And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on We
As only a sort of They !

**Rudyard Kipling
Given the recent tragic events, the purpose of this post is to honor the victims of the horrific terrorist attacks in both France and Lebanon. My deepest condolences go to the families of said victims, may they rest in peace.
Gabrielle Ayoub Nov 2014
No matter how much our country has suffered
No matter how many wars there will be
We will always rise above those difficulties
Because we are Lebanese and NO ONE can steal our identity <3

Happy independence day to all the Lebanese people out there
This is not really a poem, but i just wanted to say a few words
Jace Kassem Sep 2014
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 :)
Omar Kawash Jul 2014
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
Ghenwa Mar 2014
As I stand in the flashing city lights,
I feel the earth move under my feet.
This is my home,
My beautiful home.
As the world stumbles upon
the horrors they see on TV,
I stand still,
My home,
My beautiful home.
I whisper to myself,
Everything will be alright,
I whisper to you,
Like a mother singing a lullaby;
Beyrouth,
My dearest Beyrouth,
One day.
One day, you'll see your wonders,
One day, your children will be here
One Day, they'll come back,
For you.
Beyrouth, Beyrouth,
You old soul,
You beautiful mind,
Stand still.
We are here.
as i see the horrors on TV, i have realised that we never show Beyrouth as the beautiful town it is but as the horrible things that have been done there. I wander endlessly in this city and could spend every second of my life there.

— The End —