Aleppo Poems - Poems about Aleppo

Aleppo - Childhood Gone By Sandy Evans Going to school is my favorite thing Reading, writing and learning new things. Running home to my family excited Laughing with friends and being a child. Opening the door and seeing mom’s smile She says dinner is ready “Get your dad in...

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An elitism set awhirl like a spinning top Buoyed in hypocritical double standards and flimsy hoax A nuisance that seems to never stop And the world Is stage staggering in its hazards and coax In constrained selective sympathy and nuance As the pressed lurk in their solemn withering plight And the hashtags and social media rage...

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May grief freely flow. Our hearts fill with sorrow. Can we compassion borrow? Nothing at all left to owe. Can anyone save Aleppo? Aleppo now has no other name History has recorded its fame The ruling clique has no shame The entire world falls into blame Will no one at all save Aleppo? A city fully destroyed, With human lives toyed. Daily life no longer enjoyed, We are...

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Words on fire blaze, then rescind, Only to disappear in a scorching wind. Words that devour light as they give light, Dragons that slay in order to give fright. A story fully complete, now thrumming, The echoes reverberate, now drumming. A mother holds her child in warm embrace, Now dead in her arms, misery on...

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One man Stands Beneath his white helmet And demands, Silence. Throughout Aleppo. His stethoscope, He attaches To the dust And listens From his knees. The man has Ten fingers, A dry brush And a pair of pliers To dig like an archeologist. He does not have years, But minutes To search the ruins For toes That wiggle Or mouths That suckle Or bleeding hearts That still beat Like tremors In puddles of plaster. When an apartment building Of ten stories Is bombed By planes Flown by...

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Whorls of smoke mock the void of the heavens; in a wiggling ascent With lusting waists of a samba decent. Turmoil combs the fragile mane of the soil The scalp is torn and leathery fingers of dust rest against the helm. The stench of burning tires staggers on its knocked feet. Embers are peach, ashes are red; a jihad...

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Horrors inflicted on innocent civilians and children That is what is happening in Aleppo today Babies buried in rubble As the "White Helmets" rush to protect the victims What manner of men can do things like this to people? Where are their...

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The Son of Aleppo “Mother why are you crying?” She looks at he’s small gentle green eyes with ashes surrounding his skin. “Momma why are you crying?” Her voice slowly appears into the mist of desperation and sadness. Her voice is trying to gain courage not for her but for him. So his eyes can come alive,...

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That twinkling on the horizon ain’t no star just another Russian fighter closing to lay its clutch of cluster bombs or a missile cruising in. Winter’s solstice approaches, the rocket's flare fizzles and only darkness remains. Come morning, no flag will fly in this city of ruins. When you bomb rubble, you get only smaller rubble, a few more dead bodies and the unlucky ones who...

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When finally he falls asleep He skims along from dream to dream Across his face a smile then creeps He finds himself beside a stream Where flowers bloom and sparrows cheep Caressed by warm comforting beams He feels serene in slumber deep Then all at once wakes with a scream As bombs explode and children weep Aborted peace ... a shattered dream....

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There is a cry of hope in Aleppo, A baby is born in the midst of war Amidst the explosions, he shall grow Reaching for that still shining star. Who's right, who's wrong to desert go The innocent must live in peace It's Christmas time, leave Aleppo This senseless war must cease! Terror only breeds more terror Let the children grow in their dreams Let...

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Look mankind what your leaders have done, look at terrible bloodshed. Your leaders, some incompetent, corrupt, some were awarded the peace prize. You incoherent World, you leaders without integrity. You who put wreaths, laurels on their heads, aren’t you guilty as them? Look at those dying because of your bad decisions, leaders cleanse this blood from your hands. Houses are broken in...

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From the dusty street of Homs I write Head buried in ashes- white Hopes piled up in monumental rubble hearts engulfed in catastrophic trouble A motherless child cries in the still My home, a deserted paradise Where birds wail for broken dreams Once tranquil land now soaked in crimson rain Poured by thoughtless...

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(September 2014) While rage of war surrounds this special man he, driver of an ambulance, remains to help his wounded townsmen heal, survive- men downed by civil war in Syria. The shelling dealt by forces pro-Assad caused families to flee from streets and homes ...

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