"abdul" poems
SIR APJ ABDUL KALAM KO SALAM !
VEH MARE NAHI HAI
VEH TO AMAAR HAI
UNKE UPDESH
UNKI SOCH
UNKA SAPNA
AMAAR HAI AUR HAMESHA RAHEGA !
VEH ZINDA HAI
HAMARE DILO ME
HAM SAB ME KALAM HAI !
I AM KALAM
YOU ARE KALM
WE ARE KALAM
VISION 2020 AB DOOR NAHI !
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
The root
Of ambition
Is ambivalent
There's no “one cause”
No one causes
A man
To make life decisions
In a day
It takes
Much more
For
A man to be successful
And real
With his inner-self
Accepting
The cards dealt
With the stamina
To play through
Exercising his will
With the feel
Lingering in every pore
Unsure
Of obstacles ahead
Headstrong
Through barricades
Bearing the bruises
Trampling
Over your own
Feet
Defeat
Seen in battle
But the war’s on
And the war zone
Isn’t limited
To a few
Years
Like ages 19-22
Whose to do
Worse
Who has more
Money
CARS
Clothes
And hoes
And whose vision
Is so small
To tack them
with success
All in all
And attack those
Who lack the
Wills
To move forward
And ignorantly
Attach it
With a phenomena
Of
Your unknowing
Root of ambition
Can spread
Like weeds
And weeds
Can **** ambition
Or spread
Like seeds
How many men
Dive
Head first under the influence
Or rise above
High
From the same drug
Barack Obama
Michael Phelps
William Shakespeare
Bill Clinton
Lebron James
Pablo Picasso
The Beatles
Jay-Z
Bob Marley
Conan O’Brien
Dr Francis Crick. (Nobel Prize Winner)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Salvador Dali
Victor Hugo
Kareem Abdul-Jabar
Snoop Dogg
Dr. Dre
Stephen King
Just to name a few
Maybe
Just maybe
It has nothing to do
With success
Or you.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
oh right...
back in h'america it's called
patriotism -
but 'ere, over, Here -
it's called nationalism...
back on the old continent
where and when all politics
is far-right mantra
and then you have
your Victoria and Abdul -
love the curry...
but like the **** said...
i'd prefer the aura and sauna
of the...
don't get me wrong:
i love the food...
but watching the Indian caste
system?
of Indians employing slaves
to build their upper-middle-class homes?
more tanned?
oh, you mean the Sri Lankan
or the Bangladeshi poor ********
sorry... i thought all slave
owners were white...
no?
oh...
alright...
**** you then!
because?
next time you ask...
i'll do what the Nazis did to the ********
i'll twist the star of David sideways...
exposing the prayer mat
and an opened book...
and, as far as i am concerned,
Islam is equivalent to the bubonic plague...
now...
compare the geographic literature
and spot the quarantine areas on a map
that constitutes Europe.
i'd rather die...
than fiddle with a phallus for
a taste of the Arabian quasi
harem orchestra of... absolute...
********
Arabian women?
fat hands...
their hands are too fat...
they have to inter-breed to
get rid of their
farmers' market of
fudge fingers and knuckles...
Arabian women expose
what is the most **** aspect
of a woman's body...
their hands...
Arab women have pork chops
for fingers...
and i'm not even sorry
making this observation...
fatty extensions
that you wish could at least
succumb to the esteem
of a pork head terrine.
Arab women can wear their niqab,
or whatever the hell they wear...
one problem...
FAT..... HANDS...
FAT.... FINGERS...
hell, hide them...
these women are worth half the erection's
worth in the *********** market of
feminine hands...
Arab women are no possessed with
geisha hands... porcelain architecture...
they're not tender... slight, polite...
the hands of Arab women are
the hands of European women...
who have a legitimate sway on arable
land, that is fertile with either
potatoes or cabbage;
well...
fat fingers eager to harvest ginger
(roots) -
what can i say...
no matter the diamond,
or the European *****
the hand is still looking
readily available to milk a ******* camel.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
Another day another dollar not earned. Life really sucks on the unemployment line. Illegal immigrants taking all the jobs. Natural born citizen on welfare. Welcome to America Abdul. We apologize for being free. Now here's some free money. Life really ***** when you're a natural born American.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Something about being 151 miles from home
walking around barefoot all day
in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California
wearing a vest and some black cotton pants,
drinking good Cabernet and lots of water,
eating homemade pasta salad and chicken sandwiches,
in the early-Autumn Summer-esque temperatures,
the third day of the 2013 Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival,
witnessing Gogol Bordello and The Devil Makes Three,
with my great Friends, and also Roomates, Abdul and his Wife,
and their friend and her 20 month old Son
makes me feel sort of ... *****
Funny how that works;
Unprotected feet on very Public grounds
Unprotected feet on verily treded grounds;
Going barefoot is nice, though.
(Except the ******* sidewalks, incidentally.
Even the streets are nicer to walk on barefoot. Even pineneedles!
I am disappointed, San Francisco! I thought you were on the side of the hippies!)
If anything was learned from the Sixties,
it's that unprotected anything
in San Francisco
is easily a hazard.
-
Now, that was a ******* amazing day.
Now; to the shower and then directly the **** to bed!
Away!
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
A bird lived its life lonely,
None came for its help,
It kept hunting for fruit pulp,
Considered relations and family unholy.
When its mother lived on difficulty,
Other relative birds, treated it a person of mediocrity,
Refused to follow generosity without partiality,
To keep them safe, pretended their incapacity.
Elder sister of the lonely bird kept threatening,
About the future inabilities and loneliness,
For a family life, kept telling it undeserving,
Told it would face disappointments without liveliness.
Life kept the lonely bird, lonely,
The bird never cared about it,
It had its mother with it,
Life went lively & happily.
Lonely bird had a fear in its thought,
What happens, in loneliness if I am caught?
It felt severe anguish and fear,
On occasions, its heart fell in tear!
Its elder sister, treated it with disrespect,
In spite of it being, an aspiring intellect,
Life of lonely bird remained downward,
It got itself ready for situations untoward.
The lonely bird kept struggling and thriving,
With its ambition and goals put its life driving,
Going remained really impossible & tough
The path to dream remained very rough.
Its fellow birds, remained happily settled,
For lonely bird, things looked to be tangled,
It was skilled, opportunities remained disabled,
With rejections, life continuously growled.
The lonely bird wanted to turn phenomenal,
Didn’t look out to happiness personal,
It did not have family,
In its wealth remained, being hit poorly.
Life went downward with pause,
It was on long term ambition and cause,
The bird turned itself a hungry beast,
To put it away from loneliness, at least.
If none is there, to take care,
I would die! I would die!
For a worldly mission, if I dare!
Of loneliness, I would never cry!
Elder sister of lonely bird threatened,
You were born a layman
Will die an orphan!
Because you are a madman!
The lonely bird, responded for it in life,
I was born a layman,
Will fight for my mission like a madman,
Will die always fighting world evils as a spearman.
There was ring! There was a ring!
It was named Bhagat Singh!
It told me life is lived on its own,
Others shoulders are used at time of funeral.
There was an alarm! There was an alarm!
The name was Abdul Kalam,
It told me Always be the unique you,
Even if world wants to change you everybody else.
Loneliness sometimes hit it like thorn,
Nothing could make it torn,
Through difficulties it was born,
It lived life to make this world adorn.
Loneliness turns out ubique,
I am not alone! I am not alone!
I am an unshakable stone,
I am unique! I am unique!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
[Dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi, the greatest Fraud of all times]
Darkness like Halagu Khan is running
taking sword in hand;
Light is fleeing raising its tail.
The decorated dream-city will lose its
electricity for ever;
in all directions, the slogan of hyenas
will be heard only.
Going to the shade of Bodhi Tree,
I asked Gautama Buddha,
'By tasting which poisonous fruit,
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in massacre
in Myanmar? '
Hanging his head, said Gautama, 'Darkness.'
Going to Bethlehem, I asked Jesus Christ,
'By drinking which grape-juice,
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in massacre in Mosul,
Baghdad and Syria singing of democracy? '
Hanging his head, said Jesus, 'Darkness.'
Going to the holy home of Moses,
I bowed down my head and said, 'Would you
tell me, by eating which Manna and Salwa
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in killing children
and women in holy Palestine? '
Hanging his head, said Moses, 'Darkness.'
Going to Mathura city, I said to Lord Krishna,
'Please tell me, by eating which food
offering to deity, your disciples have become
insane and have been involved in massacre
in Kashmir, Delhi and Gujarat? '
Hanging his head, said Krishna, 'Darkness.'
Darkness like Halagu Khan is running
taking sword in hand;
Light is fleeing raising its tail.
Again the days of darkness have descended on earth.
I have been searching Abdul-Muttalib's son
Abdullah's house in Pharaoh's city—
in such a thick darkness, no doubt,
the Sun of the desert had risen
in the lap of Amina!
[Translated by the poet from Bengali]
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
Take me on a journey
Whisked away by your poetry
Let me exhale my mind
And be at one with your kind.
Lead me away like the fey
To poetry journalists
And HB specialists
Who like Toreinss Pinwinkle
Sprinkle fairy dust upon words and phrases
Until all who gazes are stunned.
Take me to where sk abdul
ski slopes
Where words formed
With ice cold precision
Fall soft as snowflakes
Forming landscapes in my mind.
My mind wanders with Luiz
Until with an elbow crack, I’m back
Tuned in a spin, by Ryn
Heeding Laurent’s call
Away from the dark places Mr Woods may take me
To be at one with the shadow in the dark,
Because as someone anonymous once said
“it’s sometimes light
but can be dark
as poetry is not
just a walk in the park”.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 9:28 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Abdul and the pirates
Often used to boast
How they had impunity
Along the Somalian coast
Taking ships whenever
The opportunity appeared
Holding them for ransom
So the ***** could be shared
Then the Maersk Alabama
Came into the sight
Of Abdul and the pirates
Quite to their delight
So they came aboard
Making their demands
But the unarmed Maersk crew
Took it from their hands
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
So they took the captain
Who had volunteered
To become their hostage
As towards home they steered
Hoping they could reach
The Somalian shore
Where they would be successful
In demanding much much more
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
A team of Navy snipers
Were quietly on the case
Looking for a target
When the order was in place
Abdul and the Pirates
Unwillingly complied
And that perhaps explains
Why it is they died
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
So they took the captain
Who had volunteered
To become their hostage
As towards home they steered
Hoping they could reach
The Somalian shore
Where they would be successful
In demanding much much more
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Evenually who would fall
Abdul and the Pirate
Aren’t around to boast
How they had impunity
Along the Somalian coast
Quite unfortunately for them
They’ve become burnt toast
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND MY MATE BOB
today, bob delahunty, was befriended by an muslim terrorist, who is planning to place bombs
in every rich place of business, you see, he uses religious powers, to force people to close up
plant the bomb and the next day, with everyone in it, the building blows up, not everyone dies
but there were a lot of casualties, including the president who was there, for a press release
you see the building was FOX NEWS, and the terrorist said, he is ******* up the country with
his right wing crap, and bob went up to him and said, you are in the wrong here, fella
and the terrorist went away saying
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND THE AKLIMIGHTY BOB
the next problem was the assassination of the lord mayor jim ryde, who really ****** this terrorist off
a lot, but the only way to stop jim, is to get inside, his car, and plant a powerful bomb, to rip jim ryde’s head
right off, and then, at 4.30 pm on the way to parliament house, the car blew up but jim got out alive
which made this terrorist mad and walked around saying
god is the devil, we must **** jim ryde,
god is the devil, we must **** jim ryde
god is the devil, we must **** jim ryde
because that is what i wanna do, oh yeah
so the terrorist organised a time to terrorise jim ryde’s favourite coffee spot, making sure he is aware
that jim was inside, and he hired three hit men to terrorise the coffee shop and they will take as long
as it takes, to **** the lord mayor, and the hit men broke the rules of what the terrorist wanted, but took
a risk, and the terrorist was outside, not happy, but made the stabbing right in the chest, he was dead in minutes
and the police fired shots at the terrorist who was named abduland the hit men, and killed them within minutes, and the police sang
i killed the devil cause the devil is abdul
i killed the devil cause the devil is abdul
i killed the devil cause the devil is abdul
the devil is the great abdul
god is the devil and the devil is abdul
god is the devil and the devil is abdul
god is the devil and the devil is abdult
THE DEVIL IS YOUR EVILSIDE, AND THAT IS THAT
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
Welcome to America
Where they call it the home of the brave
While millions of Americans are working as slaves
Barely passing the minimum wage
As the government gives out food stamps to put out the rage
They check out our mailbox
They listen to our phone calls
They'd do anything to throw us
Back where we came from
Like a pack of animals
Like we're fresh out the zoo
While millions of citizens walk around
Without a fucken clue
About what the government is able to do
Welcome to America
Where they call themselves the land of the free
While 47 million people struggle with poverty
They got more food banks than schools
More negative media on the news
Names like Jamal, Raheem, Abdul
Can't get through an airport in peace
"Zainab Mustafa, Come with us please"
They look at my fam and think they got us all down
Like all immigrants are the same
Like we're all fucken clowns
Got the cops pulling me over for no **** reason
***** looks from left and right
As if I committed treason
They treat us like ebola
Like we're a fucken disease
Anything to get us to leave
No matter what we do,
It will never appease
As if Columbus was the first to walk this land
Not the people with painted faces and feathered bands
Have y'all forgotten the first people here were brown
not white?
Talking about freedom of speech
Like they own the bill of rights
The irony of the first amendment
Freedom of religion
Yet they've still condemned it
To practice anything other than their own
Expecting church to be attended
Expecting us to forget what we've known
"You're in America now! The past doesn't matter!"
I'm not here to fit in
Or kiss someone's *** to flatter
Welcome to America
Once known as Freedonia
Where the cities never sleep
Diagnosed with insomnia
As homeless shelters are packed
And crackheads fill the streets
As government officials lay on Egyptian cotton sheets
Welcome to America
Where there is no war
Where we watch your every move
And predict what's in store
Anything we can do to reassure
A more secure nation
Even if it means cleaning up these immigrant abominations
So have a wonderful stay
In our lovely USA
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
Life is about taking breaths
But the most important times
Are when it is taken away
And all that haunts a displaced child
Is when their breath was lost then found again
From the moment a 3 minute warning is given
Where does one evacuate to
When already in a shelter
As bombs blast
And shots echoe in the near distance
When the ground shakes in pain
There is no time to think
No time to act as shrapnel came flying
To pierce their skin
And homes collapsed
Walls caved in
Only to harden their resolve
All out of tears
They no longer fall
When they get used to the pain
They recite the martyred like a grocery list
Mum
Dad
Brothers
Sisters
Aunties
Cousins
Uncles
Friends
But the souls of lost ones are trapped in little hearts
Caged in past dreams
Where Fatima still comes to play with Aisha in the courtyard
Even with her head twisted off by the guards
Tariq and Abdul play marbles with charred fingers
Maha clings onto yesterdays that can never be the same
Where her father's farm was ripe
And days were spent out in the field
A child sees a child does
So they accept they were born to die
And pick up a stone to fight
At least they must try to protect themselves
Even animals reserve that right
It's instinct
Basic defensive nature and survival needs
Yet the world condemns them
Serpents that bare snakes
They are terrorists in the making
As curses cry out from anger and hatred
A crime to be born in the middle east
The gates and borders of surrounding countries
Closed for their emergency
Where the only place to go is through the doors of heaven
Which are wide open
And in this case is it cruel of me to say
Maybe it is a better option
Than to live and die a thousand times over
Mentally disturbed
Overwhelmed with distrust
All that will be left are robots
That have nothing to lose
Time that should be spent in school
Is a time that will never come back
And everyday is a chance lost
Scars that will never be overcome
Eyes that have seen too much
These angels don't belong here
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
The title of Poetry I wrote between 1972 and 1994
And for which my name will last forever in world
All know now as Dreams, Ideas and Realities.....!
The scientist of India called as Missile man......and
Also who had worked as President of India.....and
Noted for children's education is A P J Abdul Kalam!
His message for all to come up in life and work is
Dream, dream..Thoughts, thoughts..Action, action!
Both our wish, thoughts and message are the same!
What you are is Nature's gift to you in the world....
And what you should do is to use it the best you can
So that nation, world and all live in prosperity sure!
Only when all progress, prosper and are peaceful
Humanity can live blissfully better in one world...!
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
My calling patterns are rather dull.
I’m a sixty year old man.
I get phone calls infrequently
almost never from Sudan.
Then one day I received a call
From some fellow called Abdul.
I thought it was a prank at first,
from students at my school.
He talked of pressure cookers
and praised his foreign god.
I said “it’s a wrong number, Bub.”
And I thought “that was odd!”
That didn’t stop him calling here
Oh, once or twice a week.
I explained I’m not the party
To whom he wished to speak.
(It seems my number was one digit
off from a certain Chechen geek).
After Tax day it got interesting-
all this clicking on my phone.
One time my placed was ransacked
while I was not at home.
Eric Holder, if you’re listening,
I am not the Droid you seek.
It seems the fourth amendment
Must be null and void this week...
I might be your perfect villain:
White, Catholic, and a man.
I know if I made videos
I’d be rotting in the “can”
I knew nothing about the plot,
I’m innocent, you see.
My knowledge, like the President’s
comes strictly from T.V.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 8:46 AM UTC
"That is not dead which can eternal lie,
and with strange aeons even death may die."
-Abdul Alhazred
Piercing light digs itself into my eyes
A spread of bird calls funnel past open windows
I lift my throbbing head off the splayed pages
It seems that morning breeze has been perusing my book
The Necronomicon
With groggy effort, I go about my daily routine
Brushing leads to breakfast which leads to brooding
Today is Saturday and I am beyond unimpressed
Not many activities catch my eye like they used to
I think I’ll go for a swim
Thankfully, the empty lap pool provides a haven
Loneliness was never an outstanding issue among our family
That pervasive sense of dull dread invades my heart, yet
There is a thin verisimilitude between loneliness and contentment
I muse upon the power of individuality while submerging
Half-past 11, I notice some peculiar glow spreading in the lanes
Emerald ooze steadily overtakes a pair of arms and legs
It is not long before this strange goo overtakes my skull as well
Instantaneously, terror plunges deep into my amygdala
I assume sounds of thrashing water and stifled screams
How does my body drift deeper than physically possible?
When does my mind disconnect from our tangible world?
Just why are suction-cupped serpents binding me?
Questions spill over the brim and are not met with any answers
Nonetheless, I embrace impending death
Visions assault a cloud of sensory panic
The chlorine chaos takes on saltier flavoring
I see images of cyclopean kingdoms draped in sea growth
Stupendous beings lumber with apocryphal disregard
To these incomprehensible entities, I am dust
They relinquish me back to my microscopic world
I do not know why the cosmic horrors revealed themselves
All I am aware of is that this was a mere glimpse at true evil
One born millennia before the most ancient of stars
One that will persist millennia after such bodies have extinguished
I sink back into the water, exhausted
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
-H.P. Lovecraft
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
There's a story,
Always one.
Alone somewhere waiting.
A story,
In Abdul's curious eyes
A story,
In those doubtful goodbyes.
Always one,
Ravelled.
Somewhere in begger's bowl,
in those frightening howl..
A story,
Between the parade bands.
A story,
Somewhere behind those
Men,
Gazing at no man's land.
Weapons are gripped
Bullets fly,
Shouts become deaf
And , humanity becomes numb,
On those wet, dead roads,
What walks in silence...
is a story.
Always one.
Partially unseen,
There stands one story.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Islam is
The religion of peace
If you don’t believe me
Ask Abdul-Aziz
Or those down with ISIS
In the Middle East
Who chop off heads
Like savage beasts
Islam is
The religion of peace
So why is jihad
On the increase
All over the globe
North south west and east
Can someone explain it
In the very least
Islam is
The religion of peace
But the irony is
The violence
Doesn’t cease
In the places it’s practiced
It seems to increase
Maybe they need to be better policed
Islam is
The religion of peace
That’s what they tell us
I’m not adding yeast
But it’s hard to believe
The way they seem to feast
On violence and bloodshed
Which hasn’t decreased
Copyright © 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
*being creative is a kind of responsibility
people expect more and more for every
new creation
as Abdul Kalam former President of India said,*
"don't relax after your first victory, people may think it as luck if you fail in your second attempt"
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
Pray for Abdul-Basit Muatan
He's not allowed cancer
Treatment in an Isreali jail and
He's going to die.
Dec 26, 2021
Dec 26, 2021 at 3:16 PM UTC
It was an exceedingly hot and sultry summer day in the bylanes of Kabul. Lt.Sameer Sharma had missed the chance of catching the prodigal engineer turned terrorist Abdul at the marketplace.But now he had an ace in his deck,the enigmatic Dr.Rizwan, a doctor by day and spy by night.
Here they were near a warehouse at a nondescript military base.Any second now,a glimpse of the adversary could be caught.
"Over there",shouted Rizwan,pointing his gun towards the massive box.As deftly as a cat ,Sameer slowly moved towards the box.It was a cat.
Another voice was heard in the floor above.It was Abdul.
He ran.
They ran.
It could all have been over in a minute.Years of espionage and intelligence work boiled downed to one chase.
They chased. A chance . The only chance.Four shots were fired.
They saw the corpse.They were jubilant."Finally" cried......
"Finally",cried Musa as he shared a smoke with Rizwan.
There laid the body of Lt.Sameer in a pool of blood.
Betrayal had never been more stylish.
The End.
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 11:56 AM UTC
you might think it discriminatory,
but i just don't understand trans-gender,
or meta-gender, or para-gender or
ortho-gender... there, the four winds...
but as a man i couldn't imagine
putting all that effort into adorning
myself like a woman, to look prettier...
an article about the 1971 music scene:
'acts were building careers, not eking
them out; they all looked fabulous without
help from make-up artists and stylists:
the elegantly wasted look, now expensively
emulated in fashion spread, could be
achieved by simple neglect.'
it's a discrimination from the stand-point
of: well... i'm not joining this St. Thomas Parade;
and i guess that's the reason for much
of Islam's hostility, it brewed up and boiled
in european women somehow...
Samantha said: 'what's happening?!
why aren't we dating, going to restaurants,
why is he using my make-up?!'
Abdul said: 'honey, bomb bomb bomb boom!'
Ahmed said: 'here's our opportunity to groom
the youngest disgruntled & confused!'
well it worked... but i still kinda
wished she / "she" / hmm made it into the final
of that karaoke show.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
Her name was Razan Ashraf Abdul Qadir al-Najjar,
From 7am till 8pm she helped the injured,
Tending to them on the fields of freedom.
This was her weapon,
Her white medical coat,
Now stained with her life’s blood.
“Her only weapon was her medical vest,”
Her Mother’s voice drowns in pain,
“She may have been small, but she was strong.”
The last time she saw her daughter,
“She stood up and smiled at me,
She flew like a bird in front of me.”
The angel of mercy,
Her goal was to save lives,
And offer relief to the wounded.
Her arms raised high to show she was unarmed,
She approached a victim lying upon the ground,
But the Sniper’s trigger only knew the language of hatred.
And a bullet blinked hard and fast,
The wrath of the single butterfly bullet was so brutal
It ruptured into three other medics.
A bullet designed to explode upon impact,
It lacerates and pulverises bone and tissue,
The Devil’s Banned Bullet.
It was a Friday,
In the month of Ramadan,
When the desert sand drank her blood.
A weeping Mother kisses a jacket
Stained with her daughter’s blood,
“I wish I could have seen her in her white wedding dress.”
Only the songs of lamentations now,
Grief shrieks through the streets without water,
And the world watches in censored silence.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 12:15 AM UTC