Syria poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of syria poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on syria are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
My heart bleeds, just as my tear-soaked eyes, and anguish-filled-mouth keep asking: why Syria – the Levant – the rising land Why Damascus – the City of Jasmine of shrubs and vines, now turn to vineyard of locoweed and poison
Everything shattered once and forever They were escaping from ultimate fever The fever of wars and massacres They saw hope waves So surfed blue waves Man lost the jewel and hopes waived Blue said, don’t make me red For hundreds,
In hoardes they arrived not cattle or flock of sheep sea of humanity deprived a deluge seemed to sweep Harried mothers hands in pray weary eyed children in tow losing who couldn’t bear sway reached utopia unsteady and slow City
War planes high, the sky full of rains, a man cries of death, though not because of drugs like meth, Egypt seeking retribution, for the cruelly cinematic execution, for 21 men have gone down under, amid the crying and the
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth We’ve got Daredevils, acrobats and clowns dishing out the mirth” Somewhere speakers crackle to life and a record plays “Ra da da da da da da da da da” The
(1) It is insane that while your heart jumps at evening on the strings of a harp, while your beloved lady’s hair flies with every breeze of jazz, while you wash up at morning under showers of gardens sounds, but
They are treated as mere numbers of human consequence, dotted ubiquitously on the front pages of tabloids and newspapers. They are figures that scatter my article weekly- seemingly just another number that the eyes will so casually scan over. Sometime
I’m coasting down the mountain, I drank my way to the peak, now I’m on the descent, Freezing on the outside while burning up within, I’m attempting to take back my personal consent, This rope made up of hope has
Here come the lights, what’s that I see? New blocks rising, no sympathizing, progress must be made, Here come the machines to take over from the spades, churning up the history, now to remain a mystery, that doesn’t matter, we
I saw the sun rise from the east today In splendor wore a shining garment red. And quietly from behind hills of grey Emerged, like limbs, his boundless wings outspread With swaying roar, would stretch them more and more Remembering
This is a post dedicated to the crazy people who were and who are out there. Life shows new things every day, Some are sad, Some happy. Some are interesting, Some dull. Some make us cry, Some make us laugh.
Don’t you agree with my ability to loosen up on our times in no night? A river thing was flowing through foliaged silence. In deranged hour of the neck tie, you throw up obscenity on road. What? Chicken hearted? Sickle
I will encounter all barriers I will cross all the horizons I don’t require any carriers For taking fire from the sun Love is that force which enforces All the time it reinforces When your lips just endorse Then opens
Winter is witnessing the mysterious slumber Silence is peculiarly sharp and scandalizing. And the polar bears are all happy in their sleep. Hunting is a time game of the predator. Winner lives and the other loses to hunger. Northern Cardinals,
“Unborn Babe” Come,come little babe, Your precious arrival we anxiously await. My darling little angel ! Tell me about the unseen world. I am curious to know——-, Are there any flying birds? I know your journey is very long, It
The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love! The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest – The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!
(A collaboration with Gene) In dark melancholy’s mire a heart’s forlorn canoe paddles through the dense grief floating on the surface clutching like vines, sticks like Val Des ooze, pulling me under. Listening to the ghostly music coming from the
How soon can you stop walking in my dreams, Though you lavish me there with everything, In dreams that make real what only seems, Awake a pauper, but in sleep a king With kingdom in the clouds that truly boasts
Who said that dawn doesn’t know him? Yes … Who has said that? He is secreting night when the sunset flows to poem end ; the flute, which surrendered stealthily to the day song, it runs away from the maze
Sitting alone Just sitting and thinking Simply deciding But never confiding A rise in emotion But no sound No motion Sitting quietly Hoping and praying Simply tapping Then suddenly snapping At nothing and no-one And now it’s too late What’s
Black hole in my china cup, You swirl round in vortices; Rising, falling, twirling up, You mind me no notices! In your twirling eye, black As pitch, I see me in a café; Sitting up and sitting back, Stirring black-hole
Simmering on a distant shore, my minds eye floats upon. Swirling thought upon swirling thought do my reflections grow. Infinite realms offer fertile grounds to burrow through. Mountains of realities the minds eye sees one as real as them all.
Light of illumination filled the tiny vortex of my mind A world colored river earth cloud and storm Forestry crosswinds and fire Ah natural madness beautiful madness A sweet perfect chaotic choir So I can drown snug in a sublime
Was isn’t the same as is, nor can now Be the equal of then and likewise that which will Is yet not yet, dividing in the first few seconds Into myriad trajectories flung apart At light years per second into
Before you Know and in despair Humankind do hear my prayer As deep within my mind I scream In witnessing this nightmare dream Humanity it seems is blind Forgetting that to love is kind When did decay begin to start?
“A young, bubbly lass once I saw, Tall, dusky and a charming smile she wore. Like all little girls, she waited in anticipation, Of a handsome young man, Who’d love her like no one. Her little follies he would overlook,