Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Lebanese Poems

Below are the all-time best Lebanese poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Lebanese poems written by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Lebanese Poems

Search for Lebanese poems, articles about Lebanese poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Lebanese poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Lebanese Poems
Read Lebanese Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Lebanese Poem | |


Mary Jane aka ganja, grass, marijuana and a host of other names.

Serenity is yours to gain
being led in dance to fairyland
swing waltz with Mary Jane

Sapped by undue stress and strain 
tango’s for two yet ‘lone you stand 
serenity is yours to gain

When music sounds an odd refrain 
discordant noise in every strand 
swing waltz with Mary Jane

One-step, two-step to higher plane 
wild rumba to a one-man band 
serenity is yours to gain

Cha-cha and spruce your addled brain 
Skunk, Lebanese, most every brand
swing waltz with Mary Jane

When life is sucked dry vein-by-vein
reborn yourself with spliff in hand
serenity is yours to gain
swing waltz with Mary Jane



Details | Lebanese Poem | |

Exhiliration comes

Exhiliration comes (thanks dad)

Cassius Clay in his day,
quick as lightning he did thunder,
watch him fight,
an awesome sight,
Great Boxer, 
one man wonder.

At 4 I had a bully sure 
Murphy was me a slapping.
Dad taught me fisticuffs the cure,
Murphy was no longer rapping.

A bouncing in the Valley some,
Keeping bad guys out the door,
3 guys wanted me to fight,
So I said “oh for sure.”

As we got outside,
 One jumped to punch at me,
I ducked his punch ,
Dislodged his lunch ,
An he was on the floor.

His mate grabbed me,
So I slammed this guy ,
Into the bloody wall.
But he’d rise and grab at me,
Never punched him, not at all, 
Just slammed and slammed on he.

3 knock downs of the bigger guy
He just kept arising ,                      (tough bugger)
Twice for the middle guy 
And the third,
 Off the wall was enterprising.

Exhiliration comes,
 when you have won the fight.
Lebanese mates came to help,
The three were put to flight.

Well I guess i do posses the makings of a brawler,
and with the fairer sex perhaps a little crawler,
so come n visit me at least then in your mind,
and passion slips between your thighs ....
oh no no no never mind ....Sponsor	Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name	Give Thanks 

Details | Lebanese Poem | |

New Year- New Bomb Blast

     On December 7, 2013 a bomb blast killed former Lebanese Minister, Mohammad Chatah and several others. Less than an hour ago, another bomb blast took place in the Dahieh area in Beirut. My husband is daughter is out at a friend's house, and I'm sick to my stomach of not knowing......where is safe, where can we go? This is the latest Post on FB by a student of mine showing a picture of the explosion. "New Year....New Bomb." 

     I'm tired of this. I'm tired of the rest of the world turning a blind eye. I'm tired of feeling guilty because I'm in my nice warm house and there are Syrian refugees living in tents. There are little children dying of the cold. I'm tired of hearing of the blood of martyrs being spilled. I'm tired of hoping and wishing for peace for this country and will NEVER be. I'm tired.

    I'm tired of reliving fear. Tired of worrying about the safety of my brother who lives in the downtown area where all the political figures have their mansions. I'm tired of hearing him talking about some embedded glass shard working its way out of the skin of his face...even now. He and his wife were injured in the bomb blast that killed Prime Minister Rafic Hariri years ago, scarring their faces for life.

I'M TIRED OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Eileen M Ghali

Details | Lebanese Poem | |

Hamra Street

He dresses as the fool
But does he fool you?
In clothes of rent
Torn twisted and bent

He drinks to excess
His voice is loud
He spouts obscenities
But he runs like the wind

Catch, me if you can, he shouts
The maze of traffic makes his jams
He speaks in riddles
Like old men, from ancient lands

He collects bottles and begs for lamb
He mumbles, I am homeless, kiss me hand
He is crazy for this is sure
He lives in alleys like a whore

Jets above fly overhead
Their orders received from a street called Hamra
As their armies invade, so bold  
The homeless man, their leader

The man from Hamra

Notes: Hamra Street is a somewhat famous street in West Beirut. It was one of Beirut’s trendy areas before the civil war, and was frequented by poets, writers, and intellectuals.
During the civil war, and before the Israeli invasion of 82, there was a bum who lived on Hamra Street who was really a spy for the IDF of Israel. No one paid him any attention, being a street beggar, at the time when there were many. Not only was he collecting intelligence, he was the running a network of spies at the time.

From a Lebanese restaurant/coffee shop I frequent, I am told many fascinating stories from all over the world. What a lovely feeling to sit among people of all religions, nationalities and opinions, and share life’s experiences. 

Thank you Diwan

Anyone who happens to have any first hand experiences referencing this poem, I would love to hear from them.

Details | Lebanese Poem | |

You Remind Me ( Part 1 )

You remind me of sleep.
A nap on the cool tile
That makes the heat rush
Out of my cheeks
In all shades of 
Red and pink.

You remind me of rest.

You remind me of the feel of scented blankets.
Rough and soft,
All at once.
Florid but not too flowery,
Delicate in all the right amounts.

You remind me of lonely laundry men  
That long for a woman’s
Love and ironed sheets.

You remind me of home.

You remind me of food, lots of food.
Too sour for my 
Eyes to bear while opened.
Too sweet for my 
Belly to accept
And mouth to greet without
A smile.
Too spicy to keep
The sense in my ears,
And too plain at times.
Too blend for my body 
To comprehend.
But you know what they say…
You can’t eat the same thing every day.  

You remind me of God.
Sufis spinning round
And round with Him
Reborn in their faces.
Hajj traveler’s huge suitcases.
Pure Zamzam water,
And rosaries made of beads so green
That Mother Nature 
Bowed down to them.

You are my sudden leap of faith.

You remind me of sweet melodies.
Arab voices that pierced seas
And sunk ships.
Tunes that blurred out 
Whatever notes in this
unjust life that made no sense to me.

You make sense to me. 

You remind me of Lebanese mothers.
Molding poetry with their
Own hands while making Kebbeh.
Collecting the burdens of the world
In small glass jars on their
Kitchen shelves,
While chopping greens with
Knives made of War
That chopped their
Homeland’s greens. 

And no I will not forget.
I want to stay this way;
Happy with my grief,
Wearing it around my finger
Like it was some sort of
Wedding ring I wanted to show
Off to this unjust world.

Details | Lebanese Poem | |

Life Partner

Life Partner!

Tonight I'm your
life partner
Now my heart is all
Let me sleep in your
I want to be happy
with you

You are my rose and
I want to smell you
Fear for you and
care for you
Now I can change
your name
"My Darling" I shall
call you

From now I'm yours 
From now you're mine

On my finger I'm
putting the ring
So hide me in your
heart  and impress
Cause today , my
life starts over

Tomorrow I will wake
up by your side
Together sleeping on
the same pilow
I'll kiss and wake
you up
I feel happiness in
your eyes
I know you want
another kiss
& I'll give it to
you from my heart!

* "Life Partner" was
my translation of an
Arabic song called
"El Yawm = Today" by
my favorite & famous
Lebanese singer
Nancy Ajram.Hereby
I'd like to thank
Nancy & the original
poet Marcel Mdour
for producing such
beautiful song.

** Dedicated to all
Nancy's fans all
over the globe! 

Details | Lebanese Poem | |

young eyes

Young Eyes
The ten year old child sat by the water. They saw what was happening and it wasn't good. Affecting them greatly, bringing nightmares and nasty flashbacks. Things their young mind struggled to comprehend. Seeing the Syrian soldiers shoot at the Lebanese fishermen, killing some. 'It's what we do, open fire. Ask questions later,' commented a soldier. He seemed nonchalant even happy.

The child witnessed many things, some random, others not. All were harsh events. Against a backdrop of beautiful blue water, history was made. A rickety biplane clattered by. From its belly dropped a tin fish - a torpedo. It entered the sea and thudded into a Turkish ship. And with a boom detonated. The ship sunk, first ever by torpedo from a warplane. What of her crew?

The child saw another ship, quite low in the water, sail from a harbour. Many people were aboard. They weren't happy, it was no holiday cruise. One teenage girl cried. Her mother explained that her father was killed by the North and he'd worked for the Americans. Now they fled for their lives and needed a home. They were Vietnamese boat people.

The child was fed up of seeing sad things. This didn't mean they weren't still a witness. Now a different boat full of unhappy people fleeing bad events. On their way to Italy and Europe in search of new lives and again, happiness. Many boats had sunk with hundreds drowning. Lampedusa is full of illegal immigrants, outnumbering the local population.

We ask, how can a child see so many things, all tragic, from so many locations? It's a surprising answer: we, the reader, are the child, the 'observer' of events. We see it firsthand or on the news. And things are worse not better. What will we observe next? Something happy? Or a new Titanic? Our ignorance can be naive, doing nothing isn't innocent. It's incomprehensible. 

Details | Lebanese Poem | |


the question is not
“if,” but when the Israeli government decides to
attack Iran,
just what do you think you’ll be doing?

will you be home watching afternoon television,
maybe “The Talk,” or “Anderson Cooper,”
guzzling down Coca-Cola & stuffing yourself full of
garlic knots or 
cheese balls?

will you be picking your kids up from school?
slaving away overtime at work?
making sweet love to your lovebuddy in a jacuzzi?
munching a handful of shrooms alone in your room?

like a chicken with its head cut off,
the Israeli government preemptively attacks, invades &
obliterates Iran,
using their nuclear energy program as the 

will we americans wonder why the empire didn’t step in front of
our crazy little brother &
tell him to chill out?
or will we sit back & let him charge in as he did in 1982
when he invaded Lebanon, killing nearly 28,000 Lebanese, Syrians &
Palestinians (not counting those wounded)?
will we just give him a little slap on the wrist,
“now, now, little brother, you know you can’t go and do that without our permission.”

will we think about the domino effect that will occur
directly thereafter?
will we cry “why do they hate us?” like we did when 
9/11 occurred?
will we pretend we knew nothing of this psychotic venture,
or will we just hope that nothing comes to the shores of the

it’s just one more country whose oil we need to rape & drain,

it’s just another people that weren’t doing what they were told,
since they kicked out the Shah in 1979,

the fact that the empire’s crazy little brother struck first will
be seen as a good thing, 
and it will be paraded all over the american media as 
“something that needed to happen---
something that was inevitable.”

will we be able to 
remember where we were 
when those first stealths fly in,
and in the same breath, 
ignore all the tenets of 
UN Security Council Resolution 1887
which calls for peacefully resolved nuclear weapon
disputes, in opposition to 
unopposed attack?

if on that day,
when all caution is thrown to the wind &
the perpetrators within the little brother of the empire 
close their eyes & flick the switches,
we americans,
we current residents of the empire,
have the audacity to ask what exactly is happening
when the world starts to spin upside down,
we should be so lucky that someone will be left alive to
slap us hard in the face.

Details | Lebanese Poem | |


We were supposed to be discovered
By Columbus in Fourteen-ninety-eight,
But we had the Arawaks and Caribs
Already there, so Columbus was late.

We are a Cosmopolitan Nation
Of every color, creed, and race,
Call ourselves a Callaloo people
With all the mixture in this place.

The Black people or the Africans
Came to the Caribbean as slaves,
The Indians came as Indentured
As Laborers and not as Braves.

We also have a good blend
Of Chinese European, and Japanese,
Most of whom came to do business
Syrians, Koreans, and Lebanese.

But we thank God for our mixture
And now the whole world could see,
That people of many cultures
Can live together in harmony.