"aleppo" poems
Down from Aleppo to the sea we rode
Down from Aleppo to the sea
On swaying, snow white camels we rode
Down from Aleppo to the sea
We sailed on a thin jade ship with hope
On a green jade ship with hope
Drifting upon endless seas
In a thin jade ship with hope
To the empty seas for love, we cried
To the empty sea for love
We saw Her walking the curling waves
To the empty seas for love
Visions came through that foggy night
Fantastic, never again seen
Spider lights sliding between the masts
That foggy night never again seen
The cook saw floating jewels, he said
Purple crystals in the sea
Uncovering the inner truths of foam
Purple crystals in the sea
The mate felt an eternal wind
He felt an eternal wind
Breath from the unknown sea it was
Rustling eternal winds
The stars chanted sutras of icy warmth
The stars chanted sutras of ice
Sailing below a schizoid sea
Chanting warm sutras of ice
Before tomorrow we left the glad sea
Before tomorrow we left
Blazing vacuities of nightshade explode
Before the light gathered we left
Down to Aleppo from the sea we rode
Down to Aleppo from the sea
On swaying silk white camels we rode
Down to Aleppo from the sea
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 12:12 AM UTC
streams of salt and H2O leak
down reddened cheeks and condense
in a golden beard. a war-torn nation,
half-a-world-away, crystallizes clear as dayspring
in an insomniac's screaming and fragile psyche
at half-past-three in the morning.
what strength must a seven-year-old posses
to persevere amidst the perversity of cluster bombs?
munitions bought and paid for with the taxes
we fork over to the United States. will her blood one day
stain our hands with crimson? will her mother's?
a girl who just wanted to read, to escape
the tragedy that inundates our surroundings,
to a magical realm of pure imagination.
where we can summon spectral stags
to save us from the misery of humanity
and learn to disarm those who would harm
us with the charm, Expelliarmus!
the bastion where i found the first seeds that grew
into a rebellion opens its doors to you, Bana.
there's a crater where your house used to be,
rubble strewn in Aleppo, Syria. but know that Hogwarts
will always be there to welcome you home.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 4:05 AM UTC
Bombs are falling in Aleppo,
the evil failed man that rules,
killing his own people,
Innocent noncombatants,
sheltering in their homes,
Crushed and buried in the
falling rubble of a dictator's
vengeful hate.
None but the volunteer
White Helmets digging
with bare hands to save
and unbury them, most
victims, irrecoverable pieces.
Occasionally, miraculously
some are spared and saved.
Through these valiant selfless
efforts.
Oh Syria, you are bombed and burned,
while the world fiddles an obtuse tune
and turns its collective back on desperate
human cries for assistance.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
Must we only dream
of wise kings who know
that rivers must flow
peacefully
so a woman can sing
her children to sleep
and fathers not weep
holding them
in grief too heartbroken
to rage
at the violence men bring
in this age
that should be long left
behind us?
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
Dear Alex,
I listened to President Obama read the letter you wrote today,
To an unfortunate little boy from Aleppo, and how you’d like to be his protege.
In preparation for his visit, you would gather all you’re most precious possessions,
Offering to him love, friendship and a gift called freedom of expression.
You would teach him and he would share his world with you,
A bonding camaraderie colored in Red, White and Blue.
You my friend, have a heart of gold like a treasure untold,
Because showing love to others…..is a longing in your soul.
Thanks you Alex!
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Nothing is going to protect us from the human condition
We can have fortune and fame
Be on the top of our game
We can be a rocker
in Lost Wages
We can be a woman with a small child
Trying to do welfare to work
We can dance the tango with a Friday night ****
We can be busted for another dui
We can be the head of the corporation
We can even be Paul McCartney
Michael Jordan
Kennedy may be our name
But nothing is going to protect us
from the human condition
I've gambled and won
I've gambled and lost
Millionaire wives die of cancer
Joanie's Johnnie gets SARS
Steve Jobs takes the last dive.
A truck driver falls asleep
A thirty seconds delay winds up catastrophe
So sorry!
Nothing protects us from the human condition
There are mine fields all around us,
most we don't even see
We can be in Mosul
We can be in Aleppo
We can be in Somalia
We can be in Mozambique
One ember, a conflagration
One breath of air, a hurricane
One drop of rain, water everywhere
Twisted Bill Cosby
his son
murdered while changing a tire
Your name can be Whitney Houston
mother and daughter
have died
Ronald Reagan's dementia
he didn't remember a thing
The list of the names
it never really ends
all that fame power and fortune
All of the pain loss and suffering
of me and you
Bad moods ain't seen nothing yet
There is no protection from the human condition
You can set me up another one
I'm drinking to
"how it goes "
I hide out
I come out
I'm probably like you
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
except
find slices of delight when able
There is no protection from the human condition.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
They have chopped down that tree
And the bees rush to my balcony,
Dad has cut down those pink roses,
But there are mosquitoes from Aleppo
Flying around my bedroom fan.
I sat on our study table with fairy lights
While my roommate put on her running shoes,
Mosquitoes waltzed around her sugarless tea,
Drank my blood below the knee and flew-
Away to Aleppo, far away to those dead roses.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
from her window she could see
the shells of buildings the bombs battered--gray concrete
ghosts, haunting in their silence
Father said his ears
hadn't stopped ringing since the attacks, though he still
could hear her playing
and he expected her practice to continue
for one day, he promised, prayers would prevail, peace
would return, and her song would be heard
play, he entreated, for ivory, black
and white, has forgotten the evil of men, their carnage;
the notes know nothing except to be played
and to give pause for hope, when
more trenchant sounds demanded one’s attention,
still the song must remain
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
one of the Orient’s oldest
and most beautiful important cities
inhabited for thousands of years
by generations after generations
of craftsmen, merchants, artists, dynasties,
famous architects of all styles and religions,
the western end of the old silk road
home to over 2 million citizens
until not long ago
a few weeks of modern warfare
were enough to destroy
what hundreds of generations had built
for their living as well as their sense of beauty
rockets exploded churches, temples, and mosques
artillery pulverized ancient palaces and new houses
barrel bombs and poison gas
killed the people
on tv we now see acres of urban wasteland
miles of rubble with no life
except for occasional tanks and soldiers
proclaiming victory over these ruins
in the name of a dictator whose regime
has become a puppet in global power games
no matter what the cost in lives or things
to destroy is easy
building things up is hard work
with friends like these
who needs enemies
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Mothers are drowning their
children and piercing
hearts with nails
because they
fear ISIS
and Jordanian
military will
eventually
slaughter
them like
goats.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 7:30 AM UTC
In Aleppo, they do not weep
for how can one
weep in wounded time.
Souls bantered
piled up, interlocked
dead & dull
lost in dusts
in a cold frenzy night.
Oppress Eden
but not Aleppo
not today, not tonight
not in this time
where children can’t weep
to save their tears
for them to drink
& not their blood
while trapped
within collapsed walls
of the wailing world.
Children of Aleppo
cry not, die not.
Memories will never bury you
to the infested ground
saturated by psychedelic bombs
& festered by maddening
cataclysm of human cold art.
The old world tries to redeem you,
to let you live, live with living
but it cannot for how can the world
try to win, then and again
tears back to emotive impulses
breaking the wind pulsating
in the plane sanity of mind?
In Aleppo, dead men forgot
to weep. Forgetful men
wept yet weeping
with no clause why.
Aeroplanes are still there
buzzing the sky,
bombing your hearts.
Aleppo, your body might die
tonight & several nights more
but memory, in this wounded time
will never bury you to ash
for Aleppo, young child, will live
beyond wounds, beyond cries.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
This is a prayer
for the Children of Aleppo
Whose tragedy was concealed before the eyes of the giants
Whose tears never had a chance to fall down to the ground
My Lord, my Almighty One
Keep these children
Welcome them back to Your arms
Let them feel loved again
Help them subside the pain they felt
Fill their newly-furnished rooms
With songs and laughter
Let them forget the scent of gunpowder and bombs
Teach them how to smile once more
Bring back the glimmer in their eyes
And as for those who still breathe to survive
Conceal them with Your love and immense protection
Let them know that beneath the ends of the earth
There would always be a sunrise
A new day
Where they could draw their stories
And dance their dreams
With those eyes
staring into blank distance
Bewildered,
Unaware of what will happen next
Let them hear my voice
A small voice of cheering them up
For this is all I could do for now
How foolish am I
Lavishly sitting on a comfortable bed
Under a secured roof
Writing a poem for those who gained my sympathy
But You know
There's more to that
Let them reach this
I want to tell them
How much they could change this world
Hang on tight
Believe me
Each and everyone of you
are tougher than any fighter this history could ever tell.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC
There were many who believed in ideals,
Fretting about in their heels,
With bollards and plackards,
They marched and nattered,
All hell they would repeal.
ISIS let rip in the east,
Fear more important than peace,
Assad called the Russians
We heard the percussion,
Aleppo mourned daily deceased.
The climate was caught unawares,
When it realised nobody cares,
The smog came in strong,
Al Gore wasn't wrong,
When people flirt with despair.
Brexit was no laughing matter,
The public blind to what they were after,
Trigger at the ready,
It isn't looking steady,
For a kingdom with too many actors.
Trump, we thought at first glance,
Didn't have much of a chance,
But Hilary's scandal,
Left the US at a stand still,
Now the world's in Russia's trance.
Farewell to the icons we'll pine,
Our culture was built on their spine,
Prince, Bowie and George,
With legends we forged
The moments that will surpass time.
Ireland became a haven for a few
Pity there wasn't a queue,
With a fight for corporate heads
Banks left dry and bled,
Tech an oligopoly? Who knew.
Aleppo left drenched with no fate,
The little reaction to late,
UN cries unheard,
Media reports blurred.
It's hard to keep up at this rate.
Silicon Valley is offering free food,
to workers becoming robots or goods,
12 hour days,
extraordinary pay,
But with no creativity they're *******
Sporting greats made their way to the stage,
this year's Olympics causing outrage,
medals were plenty,
seats were empty,
And controversy graced every front page.
Here we go blindfolded into 2017
Only the wealthy living the dream,
while most young folk,
believe politics a joke,
Tell me, is it time for a new regime?
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
I have seen the future of our world.
I have seen the sunrise of tomorrow.
I have seen Muslims shake hands with Christians.
I have seen hope buried beneath the rubble in Aleppo.
I have seen a world
come full circle
back into each other's arms,
like two lover's
that are meant to be together,
but have been at war for so long
they can't remember why.
I have looked into the eyes
of all God's creatures
and have seen that spark.
That light
that shines so brilliantly
it must be a soul.
Because nothing else
fuels that kind of hope.
Nothing else stops you
dead in your tracks
and makes you see
that we are all one.
We are all connected.
To each other,
and to this beautiful planet
we call home.
If more people
stared into the eyes
of the people they hated,
maybe we wouldn't
erase hate altogether,
but we would
strengthen tolerance.
Maybe then
we would stop
dehumanizing each other,
and start complimenting
each other instead.
Maybe our children
wouldn't come home
from school crying,
or in trouble
because they want
to build a wall,
or send Muslims
back to Islam.
Maybe,
our daughters
wouldn't have to worry
about being *******
by men
because her skirt
was just to short.
I have seen the future.
The future doesn't
look like this present.
The future is bright.
The future is ready for peace.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
The Many Benefits of Facebook Friends
A Facebook friend wrote meaningfully:
“Give me,
Five ways to give aid to people
Of Aleppo”
(You know where Aleppo is;
It’s on the lip(s)
of all the world).
A reader sent back this small clip,
A tiny snippet:
“Meditate!
Get rid of violent thoughts,
Of evil judgments that you sow
And sown,
And temper outbreaks that you’ve known.
Don’t only sit, feel sad and moan!
That is the thing this scribe can do,
Does do and plans to do.
You do it too!”
All done and said,
That was the ‘five good things’ contributed.
When he who wrote it
Noted
This.
I wrote right back and sent a kiss.
There are ten thousand like me.
The Many Benefits Of Facebook Friends 12.19.2016
Our Times, Our Culture II; War Book II;
Arlene Corwin
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
we have been deceived.
corralled like tepid sheep,
fattened beef
waiting beyond
the doors of the slaughterhouse.
as pigs lick their lips,
a daemon’s death dirge drifts
listless across the
Atlantic, an erratic dichotomy
corroding rationality—
this executive edict
barring refugees.
caught without a compass,
a flotilla of ships weathering
the elements.
for forty days
and forty nights,
we’ve been lead
two-by-two
by elephants
and donkeys.
demagogues commandeered
the lighthouse, directing
our ark across
scattered rocks.
an armada
of shattered splinters,
remnants of water-logged vessels
we’d hoped to sail to utopia.
caught in the webs
we wove, droves
of drones spewing
bombs across Aleppo.
as spittle collects
on spluttering orange lips,
will we
pause
for but a moment?
collect
our thoughts.
reflect.
history is a shattered
mirror and we’ve pricked
our fingers trying
to piece the image
back together.
there’s a hunger
for blood
refracting in our eyes.
a misanthropy
that smarts and stings.
a recalcitrant population
coerced by a television
rhetorician’s clever
devices, devised
to separate and segregate
during this crisis
caused by our missiles.
there is no moral arc
to the universe. hope,
Hedges wrote, is mania
if it remains vapid
and refuses to address
the depravity of our
physical reality.
we’ve already lost.
just ask the children
barely clinging to life,
covered in the debris
of their former homes.
all that’s left for us
is to bash the fascists.
smash every illusory border
in our heads and hearts.
burn down the walls
they try to build
around us.
overturn the tables
of the oligarchs,
stuff Molotov cocktails
down their bloated throats.
open revolt is our only hope.
we’ll build a sanctuary
in this City Beautiful.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
Death of Aleppo
Sara L Russell 1st May 2018
When I saw your before-and-after
how I cried
I died a thousand deaths
on your bleak soil
a golden city built on hope and pride
now rubble, bloodied waters
and turmoil
Despoil is not the word
to fit the scene
Annihilate seems closer
to the mark
a land devoured by the war machine
once here, a fountain
there a local park
In stark contrast to
all that's left today
bereft of everything you once
held dear
What went before is lost and blown away
the aftermath seems now
forever here
When we saw your before and after
photographs
flat epitaphs of never-
ending pain
condolences in tiny paragraphs
appeared in hollow hashtags
once again.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
I remember laughter rippling around the streets
amber of eyes aglow, brimming with hope
children cutting a caper impishly in Aleppo
dad squinting at my fiddling around with his computer
Today, our shoulders are hunched with fear
kids no longer splashing in puddles
knee-deep in rubble and smeared with blood
hollering out war cries, looking for relatives
Some crucified, others beheaded
no hearse waiting to deliver our people to burial places
Rachel weeping for her children
rising out like a phoenix, splintering husks of shells around
Walking through the cemetery while a couple
are muttering into their swirling Chardonnay
two words collide, two paths diverge
the road to hell is paved with good intentions
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
"breathe, darling
in, out, in, out,
it's okay, baby, you're doing great.
it's okay, baby, don't be afraid
i'm right here
i'll always be with you, okay?
i know it's painful, honey, i know
i'm sorry i can't help you
but you have to breathe, okay?
help is on the way
see that light over there?
there's men coming,
they're going to help--"
Mommy stopped soothing her crying baby, as the people lifted the infant up from the rubble. She gulped, instructed to them on how to hold him, where the wounds have pained him, even if she knew that it was no use.
after all, the voice of the dead can't be heard by the living.
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
Spinning in its apogee this world has lost its rhyme
It’s denizens deflecting and defacing precious time,
Sidestepping crucial issues and responsibilities
While elected fools to office flaunt abused integrities,
It’s all integral to disorder running rampant in the street
Where shades of retribution lead to fear of those we meet.
Where production slows to stoppage causing systems now to fail
And the single voice of sanity is the fool who yells "Curtail" !!
Gone to Hell the Good Old Days, gone the repartee
Lost communication in this world of misery.
Aleppo lies in ruins, unconscionably true
And blame imparts it’s levity on all including you,
The sin of ******* conscience where we turn the other cheek
Where ignorance is innocence as kids die in the street.
Blame Syria and Moscow, Blame Isis and the Yanks,
Blame everyone who turns the other cheek …to mutter quietly, “no thanks”
Blame ignorance, intolerance, the hate and Jealousy,
Blame God for his indifference and mediocrity.
Aleppo lies in ruins and the world just doesn’t care
For as Christmas joy approaches, we switch our focus there.
Isis is the apogee, the focus and the fulcrum
Isis is the dark abyss that treads the path to Hell
A Caliphate catastrophe inherent in equation
A tipping point reaction as respondents toll the bell.
Where East and West throw shards of death to strut the stage of destiny,
Where man tip-toes the edge of an apocalyptic end,
The rest of us stroll corridors of detached halls of apathy
Intent upon a peaceful life where violence rarely rends.
Aleppo lies in ruins in a patina of concrete dust
Children die obscenely in the rubble of the street
Obsession paints the hatred bright, on faces of the warriors,
Oblivious to the carnage they cast at Allah’s feet.
Aleppo lies in ruins, unconscionably true
And blame imparts it’s levity on all….including you!
M.
Hamilton NZ
9 December 2016
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
Nights in Aleppo
come without warning
never letting you sleep
the fear of the unknown
is too strong
so your dreams are as restless
as the florescent orange lights
illuminating the dark sky
Nights in Aleppo
come without warning
covering you
with a clouded shroud of dust
which suddenly ebbs hope away
like the hazy fading light of the moon
Nights in Aleppo
come without warning
creating a dark silence
that chokes you
thicker than smoke
from a Buchenwald chimney
until the screams and cries
are heard no more
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
I was 18 and surrendered to a Van Gogh sunset,
The Aegean Sea a calm mirror,
Plato’s sun, rose-red and dying,
A shift from wind to breeze,
Each night negotiates a calm.
There were eight of us
Inside the cave,
A cathedral inside a mountain,
Our home, high upside a cliff,
The mountain shepherds unhappy
With our stake,
Until we saved the lamb.
We’d found each other,
An octad to a family formed,
Wandering, drinking, annoying the Swiss,
Our freedom dangerous,
Beyond control,
Our odd desire to just be.
Hell, we were reading Hesse,
One of their own,
Our Swiss welcome spent,
They’d had enough,
And so we left for Athens,
To dance and sing,
And tender the sad patience of the Greeks.
Eighteen hours on the ferry to Eos,
People barfed huge arcs over the railing,
Then sat down to reread the headlines for the hundredth time,
Eos was an island of no cars, sparse electricity,
An abundance of religion
And a constant flow and cask of wine.
Retsina, the barrel sealing resin of the Aleppo pine,
An odd and unmistakable taste,
It left a hangover like a warning shot,
The only cure to drink again.
We spent Easter high on acid,
In the back pews of a church,
A thousand years of candles
White walls black with carbon,
A priest, a chalice, the smoking thurible,
A pendulum of incense and pure thought,
The ancients practiced faith with all their senses.
On cloudy moonless nights,
We walked the miles home,
Sandals slap on a sugar sand,
The beach ours, all of it
So dark we could only hear the sea,
The rhythm of the waves like the downbeat of the earth,
We plodded to its dark measure in a line,
On return, from village, church,
Or a lover’s walk through miles of wild daisies,
Until the rediscovered goat path up to our cave,
A Sisyphean task, a find each time,
Drunk, ****** alive, young, nuclear with hope and desire,
We would change the world,
We would mend kind all the broken parts.
And in our cave,
The sounds of others making love,
Rough grunts and soft sighs, whisper kisses,
I would think and dream,
And ride the silver of those waves
Our lives like skipping stones,
Brief, beautiful, and bound.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC