"alaykum" poems - Hello Poetry

We were the transient children windswept youth marching to break the barrier between nightness and dawn whispering immigrant secrets of our fathers and mothers lying on rooftops yelling arrays of stars speeding away racing light racing racing racing hearts as we crawled down fire escapes to street corners to proselytize Amen Hari Krishna Namaste As-Salāmu 'Alaykum silent God

0

May 8, 2012

May 8, 2012 at 3:48 AM UTC

christopher-mellon

Transients.

We were the transient children windswept youth marching to break the barrier between nightness and dawn whispering immigrant secrets of our fathers and mothers lying on rooftops yelling arrays of stars speeding away racing light racing racing racing hearts as we crawled down fire escapes to street corners to proselytize Amen Hari Krishna Namaste As-Salāmu 'Alaykum silent God

21

A different skin tone A different tongue What does it matter? We’re all born young – Innocent and naïve Until the world infects Our minds and makes us harm The world we should protect A different belief A different home But what is the difference Between “Hi” and “Shalom”? Or “As-Salamu Alaykum” And “Peace be with you” In the end we’re all humans Christian or Muslim or Jew And it’s all rather silly If you care to think it through How we need to differentiate And separate me and you Just because we were born In a slightly different place Into a different religion Into a different race ‘Cause we’re humans and we bleed The same colour of red We need the same things To be loved and fed Even if I lived a world away It matters not in the end We’re all in this together You and me, my friend

0

Jul 20, 2015

Jul 20, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC

liis-belle

Separation

A different skin tone A different tongue What does it matter? We’re all born young – Innocent and naïve Until the world infects Our minds and makes us harm The world we should protect A different belief A different home But what is the difference Between “Hi” and “Shalom”? Or “As-Salamu Alaykum” And “Peace be with you” In the end we’re all humans Christian or Muslim or Jew And it’s all rather silly If you care to think it through How we need to differentiate And separate me and you Just because we were born In a slightly different place Into a different religion Into a different race ‘Cause we’re humans and we bleed The same colour of red We need the same things To be loved and fed Even if I lived a world away It matters not in the end We’re all in this together You and me, my friend

32

Coming off the unbearably sweet high of our Nation's proud capital. I salute you. For bright mornings with fruit smoothies made so masterfully. Afternoons of stasis. Of quick showers and quick words on a condensed second floor. Straight intelligence and legitimate knowledge. Stories of brothers pranking in Palestine. "Can I have some?" asked so coyly when candy is available for adults. Thick hookah smoke burning my lungs and sapphire blues eyes. Old nicknames. Flying off the tongue like song lyrics we all know. Unfamiliar places, and familiar places. Habibi. As-salamu alaykum. Words my cerebrum forgot but heart did not. "Do you want coffee?" "Come here." "Kiss me." Your smile. Your home. Your hands. Your eyes. Nostalgia over taking our souls like baby pictures. I wish it could've lasted forever. But nothing does. And that's good, right? Too much of a good thing makes us greedy.

0

Jun 21, 2015

Jun 21, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC

chloe-fuller

Last Week

Coming off the unbearably sweet high of our Nation's proud capital. I salute you. For bright mornings with fruit smoothies made so masterfully. Afternoons of stasis. Of quick showers and quick words on a condensed second floor. Straight intelligence and legitimate knowledge. Stories of brothers pranking in Palestine. "Can I have some?" asked so coyly when candy is available for adults. Thick hookah smoke burning my lungs and sapphire blues eyes. Old nicknames. Flying off the tongue like song lyrics we all know. Unfamiliar places, and familiar places. Habibi. As-salamu alaykum. Words my cerebrum forgot but heart did not. "Do you want coffee?" "Come here." "Kiss me." Your smile. Your home. Your hands. Your eyes. Nostalgia over taking our souls like baby pictures. I wish it could've lasted forever. But nothing does. And that's good, right? Too much of a good thing makes us greedy.

19