Best Aleppo Poems
(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
to fields or mountains many miles away-
compelled to leave their household cats behind.
Now on their own left to survive, this man,
when not attending wounded friends, he would
become a savior to these orphaned pets-
enrich their lives in such a giving way.
“Cat man of Aleppo” became his name;
he took the time to care for them each day.
The money from his savings purchased meat
for cats that gathered near his home to feast.
One-hundred fifty plus became his charge;
for many months, he did this wondrous deed.
Good news amid the tragic world events-
“Man shares his heart with cats and humankind.”
(March 2019)
Two-thousand sixteen- bombs forced him away;
when healed, returned- compassion multiplied.
Not just for cats- for kids formed havens for
an orphanage and kindergarten school.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Compassion
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 06/12/2019
~1st Place~
Contest: The Good News Paper
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Judged 11/17/2014
True story, featured on many Internet news sites- September 2014
Current 2019 update- how his compassion grew to further help humankind.
https://www.bbc.com/news/stories-47473772
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 strangers
And its hallways and closets
And bedrooms
And kitchens
And stairwells
Are pancaked
Into a single floor
Of wreckage
In seconds,
There can be tiny
Zigzagged
Crevices
With, but inches of space
And pockets of air
Left
Where
Former residents
May fill these places
With their slippery bodies
Poured like liquid
Into molds
That harden
While they wait
For a miraculous tap
From Above
Or Below
Or from the Sideways.
Sometimes,
The plaster and gravel
Molds
Blink
Back
With the brown eyes
Of a three year old
Or the trickle of blood
Can faintly be heard
Still flowing
Under
A mother’s skin
In
And through her veins.
To the rubble surgeon,
That is like seeing fireworks
Or hearing tubas,
So, he probes further.
Using his fingernails
Like scalpels,
He unearths
An elbow,
A shoulder,
A chest,
The belly,
Ankle bones
And then, the whole
Of the lightning-shaped body
Releases in one dusty swoop,
Scooped
Into both his hands
And raised above his head
As if on scales
And lifted to the emerald sky,
The weight of the world
Presented to the gods,
A broken body
And a scarred soul
But, yes,
Yes,
Pried
Alive
With the first cry of a second birth
From a saved person
Who’s
On
No one’s side
But for God's.
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 is ablaze.
While ceasefire less sure-fire, birthdays wis deathdays;
Missiles are fireflies, explosions are lullabies and cops are corpses.
Life lays under the belly of the drone
And Islam feels a bending moment about the fulcrum of redefinition.
Fathers rot in the mild stomach of war;
Mothers drought in barren maroon eyes;
The succulent chaste vines of daughters squashed for concubines;
Cheerful flames of innocence choke in lanterns of caliphates,
Quills swim in ink, wrists are steady and boys are authors of death.
A realm lit with dead air, no heirs
Human rights lay in mass graves
While death and her cousins dance in a masquerade.
Soils are rich with the blood they sip
Walls bleed on in reds of graffiti.
White phosphorus rains, post traumatic stress reigns the rainbows.
Wings are spread and the tail is cocky,
Tides are breathing and the black flag wafts on,
With flickers of pride darting off its white scribblings.
But the drone cuddles its belly, licks its fingers,
The drone burps as the flag wafts on.
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 hearts
Who is a friend; the government or rebels?
From the murky street of Aleppo I write
Where soothing sun now mocks us
Our argent moon cast on threshold languid
All brimful days in subliminal gleam
Hushed seraglios
Clash of angry missiles in superiority contest
Raped our quiet thoughts
There is nothing civil about this war
In Damascus I long to see my youth again
To dalliance daughters of kings
And not dread IS
To behold the jasmine teeth
In maiden splendor
As they collapsed into gale of laughter
I a dashing cavalier
Aah! th’s idyll satire
Cloned in myopic metaphors
Tart humour
Unending dirge in incessant flow
O Kobane
Where once triumph ancestral glory
Chiseled on eternal marble
Golden swords in silken sheath
Crested birds clasped their wings in tributes
Now ruined in the theatre of political toga
To negotiate the soul of a forlorn nation
Our cry, our plea
To the dead ear of him that rule
Last night I a scion of royalty
This languid dawn
a refugee on the street of unknown land
carried on the waves of desperate time
Where I beg permission to live
A life
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 looking into the void.
Can anyone save Aleppo?
Wherever we may go,
We feel the undertow.
Listen to the cries of woe,
With no hope of tomorrow.
Can anyone save Aleppo?
Mothers only embrace sorrow;
Sad orphans bow their heads low;
Fearful civilians flee with the crow;
Starving children no longer grow;
Can anyone save Aleppo?
War planes now fly overhead;
We seek puff clouds instead;
Exploding bombs we dread;
Soon we will all be dead,
Unless someone saves Aleppo.
This will be our very last day;
There is nothing left to say.
What misery we have to pay;
Can anyone this horror delay?
If only someone can save Aleppo!
I am still a child only ten years old;
You are beautiful I was once told.
My mother not here my hand to hold.
Will I have the luxury of growing old?
Can anyone now save Aleppo?
Good-bye world, this one last time.
May the earth still continue to shine.
Today, this day, is no longer mine.
I lay myself down, no longer to pine.
Aleppo stands desolate, an odious crime.
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 ain’t dead.
More than five years caught between forces,
as leaders and faiths strike hollow truces
then bomb their own, leaving only
helpless rage and anger.
My only Christmas wish is to be
anywhere other than Aleppo.
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.
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 her face.
Unrelenting memory fills a heart now cold,
A child now dead that wanted to grow old.
Utter desolation remains scorched behind,
Lunar skeletons now people the city’s mind.
A world on fire is now what it truly seems,
The world on fire is now what it truly means.
The heart of Aleppo has lain down to die,
The heart of the world needs to mourn its lie.
To come to its rescue for the sake of humanity,
To leave it abandoned for the sake of inhumanity,
The city will live on with other noble cities,
Lost in the forgotten realm of bleak anonymity.
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
souls?
Let's pray the bombings
end soon
So the death toll does not rise any higher
All is not lost!
Peace must flow like a mighty river
If humanity wishes to continue
Surely an era of co - operation will arrive
"The darkest hour is just before the dawn"
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 a while”.
Away I ran
As fast as I can!
To do what she wished
She was cooking my favorite dish!
We’re sitting around our dinner
The lights begin to dimmer.
A loud noise is coming from nearby
We jumped with a jolt
As the night air filled with thick black smoke.
Stunned, dazed and not fully knowing why
The door blew open wide and
Mom and sister hide.
They must not see me cry.
As dad and I are dragged outside.
Never to be seen again.
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 the children grow not in error
When a right is resolved in extremes
There is a cry of hope in Aleppo,
A baby is born in the midst of war
Amidst the madness and sorrow
Morning will never be that far!
-bestrevolver , 12-15-16
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 made no functional relevance
Whiles sentiments and selective sympathies fade overnight
Accompanied by lukewarm solidarity as it always been
Yet blood thirsty fanatics hide behind elitism to perpetrate unbelievable crimes
Fuelled by greed and damned ideologies obscene
And the aftermath,A cacophony of unheard bestrewn voices too sublime for a shift in paradigm
And they cry in the dirt and dust yet we care less
So they live to die another day in their darkness and hopeless distress
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 ruins.
Inhabitants of Aleppo - the martyrs of cruel age.
Women looking at death of their children,
these women are fainting from pain,
losing consciousness –
some from suffer can become insane.
Grief is rising to the sky, admonishing God.
Lord have mercy on these suffering people.