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Siji S Ram Feb 2023
The chilling nature who stood still,

Once decided to dance her way,

Inflicting a stir around as she moved,

Causing the world a great loss.

Thousands took their last breath,

While countless lost their shelters and families.

Rescuers sweat day and night,

Holding on to a fading hope.

The city that was once smiling,

Turned to a mass of shattered rubble.

Homes that were once full of laughter,

Declined to a mass of ****** dust.

The nature stopped her dance and left,

Leaving behind a cracked dance floor,

Leaving an air of cold death,

Leaving the whole earth mourning.
Ayesha Dec 2020
on these waves, quiet crawls
war, with fish, plays; stillness laughs
since you, no more, do.

it's not fair, Aylan.
why'd you leave mother again?
for that heartless land

Ghalib weeps in sleep
says you went to see baba.
Aylan, why'd you go?

out the sea’s warm arms?
—that shore is cold as people
people cold as ice

sleep on Aylan— they
can hear now; you, your people.
Syria and you.

you've sparked up a flame
but don't you see? they love flames—
smokes, blasts and rubbles

can't you read the winds?
say they, stay far from humans
say they, please come back

wont you please come back?
to these safe waters, Aylan.
we're calling for you.

we're calling for you.
you who the fireflies await
we're calling for you.
we're calling for you
Traveler Dec 2020
The largest mass ****** machine that ever existed!
We make a profit off of death!

This is an atrocity
Mohammed Arafat Jul 2020
Dim room.
A small window with a blank curtain
emitting no light.
The ceiling fan is spinning.
No sound is heard.
A French fry container is open
on the floor beside a Washington Post paper
and a big coffee mug, that has no coffee.
An unmoving body has crashed out on a thin mattress.
The smoke from a cigarette between two of his fingers fills the room.
His hand is hesitant to grab the last fry.
It’s probably cold and dry.
It looks delicious
but it won’t taste delicious.
He seems in no mood to eat
after yesterday’s junk food dinner
that he had with his thoughts.
His head is on the pillow that he holds whenever the inner battles begin.
I ask him, “what battles?”
“Of finding a place to call home, of finding a place to call home!” His eyes fill with tears, and he breaks the silence.

Mohammed S Arafat
July 15th, 2020
This poem is dedicated to the refugees of Palestine, Yemen, Syria, Afghanistan and many other war-torn countries, who are still looking for a home.
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
Words like
somehow as beautiful sound
like oil pastels
on beige
Quick call of Pastel Heart
Ayesha May 2020
Rosy, rosy, red rivers
dripping down the blushing cheeks.
Dreamy, dreamy, dead shivers
slowing down with every kiss.

Tiny, tiny trapped screams
making out the blueing lips.
Rosy, rosy, red streams
flowing down the Syrian streets.

Shaky, shaky shallow mothers
calling out to withering kids.
Fiery, fiery falling brothers
watching out for sisters' wounds.

Slowly, slowly shivering son,
calming down to one swift end
Shyly, shyly shimmering sun
crawling back in the darkened clouds

Rosy, rosy ravaged girls
drifting off to peace-less sleeps.
Weary, weary wilting pearls
hiding back in their prison shells.

Tired, tired, tied with ropes
calling out to left out hopes.
Dying, dying, dead folks.
Dying dying, dead hopes.

Strange, silent stories screaming softly.
HasnaShereen Apr 2020
My little friend,
I'm sure you are in the best hands now
who sees everything up above,
Where there will be no sorrow

My little friend,
This is a world of insanity
Human without humanity
Becoming a place for calamity

Hey world,
As we slowly destroy the earth
Will you ever learn the lesson?
Find yourself deep, feel your heartbeat!
Where is the love? where is the fairness?
Khan BA Mar 2020
Hey give me a hand
Hey please give me a hand
Have mercy on me, at least
Give me something just to eat
I have been hungry for over a year
Don't you all have His fear
Don't you see I am all bones
The flesh eaten away by war & drones
There is no roof over my head
Only mother Earth my all time bed
The bullets & shells took away all
Until I couldn't stand the fall
I am feeble & can not move
This hunger has eaten even my torso
While the World watches me die
How will it face the Creator with its lie
For I will not forgive you on that day
When I will stand tall on the Judgement day.

(Khan, BA)
For those hungry orphans of Yemen and Syria
nick armbrister Mar 2020
Post me a letter bomb to ******* up.
Reduce me to pieces for I've had enough.
The biggest bit of me, my thumb.
Look at it just sitting there, on the floor.
I’m like strawberry jam, all over the walls.
Best way to be in this selfish money grabbing world, dead.
Blown up like those stuck in Aleppo.
Blitzed by Putin's bombs in the world's weapon proving ground.
I want no part of it or the world.
Tell them I'm from Aleppo and that I too write.
What will you write about us all, when we’re gone?
Then gather my ****** remains and put them in a hole.
For then I'm home and finally free.
Like all of the others, killed my Putin and the rest.
Worse than the Devil at his worst.
All for power, weapons sales and pride.
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