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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In Oslo's winter, a prize is awarded cold, To those who fight for peace, in a world grown old. The Nobel Peace Prize, a symbol of what's past, A reminder of hope, in a world that's lost its cast. From Gandhi's dreams to Tutu's broken voice, Laureates rise, where compassion's a dying choice. A fleeting beacon in a sea of pain, The prize commemorates peace, but it's hard to claim. With wreaths of laurel, and a medal's empty pride, The Nobel Prize, a stage where heroes stride. For efforts bold, in humanity's shattered name, A tribute to peace, in a world that's lost the game. May it mock the wars that won't cease, And highlight brutality's relentless disease. In its place, let empathy be a fading glow, And nations pretend to care, as hearts grow cold. In conflict zones, where sorrow's carved in stone, The Nobel Prize shines, but peace is gone. A call to lay down arms, in a world that's deaf, A path to healing, where love's a distant brief. With dialogue and talks, the prize is a jest, Bridging gaps, where understanding's been crushed. A spirit of forgiveness, in the face of endless pain, A step to reconciliation, but who's to blame? From grassroots screams to leaders' hollow words, The prize honors those, who peace absurdly pursues. In every corner, where humanity's heart beats weak, A Nobel tribute, where compassion's just a speak. The laureates' stories, of courage told in vain, Inspire the world, where peace is just a name. Their legacy lives, in the lives they couldn't touch, A ripple of hope, in a world that's too much. Peace is a myth, in a world that's lost its way, Where hearts and minds, in darkness stray. The Nobel Prize points to a lie ahead, Where love and kindness, are words long dead. In a world of blood, the prize is a cruel joke, A shared despair, where peace is a broken stroke. Across borders, cultures, and creeds apart, A Nobel message, in every shattered heart. With every award, a story's told in grief, Of bravery, where peace is a lost relief. The Nobel Peace Prize, a symbol of what's gone, A call to mourning, where hope's a dying dawn. May peace prevail, but it's hard to see, And brutality's shadows, still hauntingly be. In the Nobel spirit, let hearts be numb, For a world of peace, where love's just a slum.
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