Best Yemen Poems

Who'll speak for the children?
I see the images
emaciated bodies
skin on bones
hopeless eyes
ravaged souls

Who'll speak for the children?
while super powers play
the death toll speeds ahead
nobody speaks
third...

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If one is hungry
And bored
Of watching over Mecca,

What better place
To steal an apple
Than from another country’s orchards,
With fighter jets
Twanged in the sky
Like flying bottle openers,
Diving...

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SAD Seasonally Affective Disorder

Some are prone to depression in winter when days get shorter when
less light enters the brain through the eyes and thoughts become...

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I like Muslims,
Particularly Yemenis
And Pakistanis (in Yemen)—
With whom, as a university don,
I happened to live for six years. 

Arabic vowels render 
A Yemeni voice gruff.
So...

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In the first hour after Christ’s day
When we may still think of silent nights
My room on the outskirts of Ojo
Endures the steady groaning of the...

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Mohamed Bouazizi,
a poor man
who sold produce from a cart,
in a country bleeding from the open wound of corruption,
got up that morning
expecting to do nothing more
than...

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absolutely nothing stops the pipeline.

 

it penetrates all ways of life

all borders, all villages & towns---

the pipeline kills everything in its path if it dare...

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In seeming innocence		you lie in the warm ochre
in the center of a dust-kicked street,
a remnant of larger issues	crushed to just the right size
	 by killing...

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Wishing for 1984

'War is Peace Freedom
is Slavery Ignorance 
is Strength Big Brother…'

is waiting for Godot who came quickly and travelled from Pyongyang to glorious
theoretical impossibility,...

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A boy may play at war with toy type gun,
     although less now than in some years ago;
a make-believe endeavor just...

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IS DEATH AN IGBO MAN?
Quietus: ‘Nna Grave, this is Quietus 
from Vaults and Sons International.
My containers don arrive?’

Grave: ‘Yes Oga Quietus. From:
—Cairo—Syria—Boston—Kangan—
—Somalia—Monrovia—Sudan—
—Iraq—Afghanistan—Pakistan—Congo— 
—Russia—Yemen—Israel—
—Ivory Coast—Rhodesia—Burkina; ...

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What Good Are Our Tears?
by Michael R. Burch

What good are our tears?
They will not spare the dying their anguish.
What good is our concern
to a child...

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FROM MY ROOF TOP

From my roof top I see the world crumbles
I saw people of mine shout, endlessly
They shout for two common things
They shout for...

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6. Softly she sits upon my knee.
I doze and drift as the radio squeaks
Of sunspots and the honeybee.
The cab wind whistles and creeks.
I sense monstrous,...

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I think of you every
single day
You're my all, oh
sweetheart
I had the winds
memorize my songs
I always write songs
for the faraway
You're my longing,
passion, cause of
patience
My pen wouldnt...

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