Gods and angels went away
For an indefinite vacation
“We’re mere ideas anyway
Dignified by population”
Says God, who asked not to be named
“Nowadays it turns ridiculous
Politicians took our fame
Made up maliciously fastidious
All the simple laws we set
And this farcical state of affairs
Is the one we must protect
Though the mess they made is theirs
We, Gods, wash our hands of this
Devil’s game the people play
If they want us Gods be missed
Let them pave their hellish way”
Spoke the God, whose name’s not known
But one angel smiled and said
“Here’s my email and my phone
Ping me up if something’s bad..”
So I wrote her phone and email
Down in my book and slept
The wild wind lashed at our sail
All the way to my homeland.
OLD DOMINION U
ALSO A SYNAGOGUE TOO
TRUMP BILLS COMING DUE
I dedicate my obsequiously fawning poem
to our own Wonder Woman, Ms. Kristi Noem
To refugees and puppies she's oh so mean
But, alas, she's our Homeland Security queen
Demonstrations abhor our sexy fashionista cop
of her cowboy garb and fancy shades they chant STOP!
Others applaud her iron implacable will
along with her cousin, Ms. Cruella De Ville
Just mention her name and MAGA eyes grow misty
As they march in step to the orders of goosesteppin' Kristie
Crush ICE! they shout, this is our home
you're the alien invader, Ms. Kristi Noem
1.
Then slowly, slowly,
as after a long winter,
a pale light began to rise
over the Triglav’s white crown.
It was not the light of politics,
nor the light of worldly triumph,
but the soft radiance
of returning grace.
2.
I saw young faces
Looking at the old churches
with curiosity,
as if hearing an echo
from the deep places of the soul.
I saw hands reaching out
to rebuild altars
That time had wounded.
I saw strangers
finding shelter
in the hospitality of the faithful.
3.
And I knew:
The night is never the final word.
For every nation
that remembers love
will find its way home.
4.
O Slovenia,
May your forests once again
whisper psalms at dawn.
May your rivers carry blessings
to every village and city.
May your children learn
that freedom without God
is a room without air,
but freedom with Him
It is a window opened toward eternity.
5.
Rise, homeland beloved.
Rise not as you were,
but as you were meant to be—
a land of peace,
a cradle of hope,
a lamp on the mountains
for all who wander
in the dark.
Amen.
In Gaza's streets, where silence screams
A humanitarian crisis, a people's dreams
Unheard voices, lost in the pain
As bombs fall hard, and hope wanes
The world stands by, a distant hum
As lives are lost, and freedom's undone
Children weep, their future unsure
Their cries echo, but who's listening for?
Protesters rise, with voices bold
Demanding justice, for a story untold
But they're met with force, with chains and pain
Their courage crushed, their voices vain
Gaza's land, a story old
Palestinian hearts, with a history told
Displacement, occupation, and strife
A people's struggle, a long, hard life
The international community, a distant shore
Their words are hollow, as Gaza's people roar
No justice comes, no peace is found
As the world watches, Gaza's life dwindles down
But still we rise, with voices loud
For justice, freedom, and a future proud
We'll stand with Gaza, through every test
For humanity's sake, we won't find rest
Let's break the silence, let's shatter the chains
For Gaza's people, we'll rise above the pain
We'll stand as one, with hearts united strong
For justice, peace, and a future where all belong
From the rising sun in the east
To casted shadows after dark in the west,
Our tribal marked faces show,
A timeless story, aglow.
Seasons come and go,
Hiding shades and dimmed sparks.
Beneath the sprawling swamps,
Cornering meandered mangroves,
Our roots run deep,
Anchored in attires of legacy.
Our heads see without light,
Guided by old wisdom unspoken.
Truth and strength wrap us,
Like leaves hiding the stem,
This binding keeps us to mother earth,
Fatherland, and to each other.
The river Nun whispers
Future tales of our past,
Her ebb and flow carry songs of joy,
Of resilience, of hope.
Wells oiled to bustle with life,
Echoing voices of a southern people united,
Crafting stories with each fishing net,
With each catch and harvest,
With each chant that shakes the air.
We stand with one another,
As trees in a forest,
Strong and steadfast,
Each branch reaching,
Each leaf singing,
Together in harmony,
Brothers and sisters fit to guide,
The new call of the river Nun.
Far from the homeland, when lips part to speak,
This Persian candy works wonders, magic unique.
The spell of Rumi’s verse, of Hafez’ deep art,
In distant lands, it uplifts every heart.
A potion of love rides this caravan’s crest—
Saadi himself boasts of its charm manifest.
Open your eyes, and at this threshold stay—
The Masnavi begins to tell your tale today.
Yes, the key to the treasure of bliss is our tongue—
Rumi unlocks his vault where legends are sung.
The world is our homeland, in this unmatched place—
Our Persian speech bestows us with grace.
Among the people, as I roam,
I carry flaws and wins of my own.
Yet all the kindness people show,
My Homeland's dear wherever I go!
The endless steppe, the hills, the plain,
My Homeland heals my deepest pain.
If ancestors hadn't kept it free,
We’d taste the hell of tyranny!
Though life may strike and weigh me down,
I’ll never flee my native ground.
For every inch, their blood was shed,
I am the eye of the brave who bled!
For Homeland's sake, I’d give my soul,
The blue flag's grip shall be my goal.
Yet some who call for needless war,
Bring harm to those we most adore.
For fleeting fame, some stoop so low,
Their Homeland’s worth they’ll never know.
But like the ones who raised the sky,
None stands for Homeland as they try!
When the sky seems clear and the ocean so calm
Forget not the screams you hear and the broken bow charm
When the food fills stomach and the water quinches thirst
Forget not the hunger of heirs and the years of fast
When the water flows fine and the wind blows pleasant
Forget not the slaughter show line or the brinn who resent
When the needle pricks palm and the body feels pain
Forget not the open City grave and the blood through lane
When the night gives sleep and the sun starts day
Forget not the sought of brood and the last hope's ray
When the home holds hand and the sweater gives warmth
Forget not the camps on sand and the heater left dearth
When the father brings things and the mother cooks food
Forget not the cries of siblings and the lost parenthood
When the nation gives you pride and the freedom on the land
Forget not the pain that glide; inside the wrecked homeland
When you hear of lores and the legends of yore
Forget not the ruins of nations and the world of war.
What’s a homeland, I don’t know
Sounds a bit too much symbolic
I’ve got no land of my own
So it turns out hyperbolic
This home concept is not real
Could be my imagination
Sort of melancholy feel
Hardly a concrete location
Not the property I own
Not a shelter from the rain
Not a place where I was born
But a picture that remains
They say home is where the heart is
And my heart is over there
Far away, where willow trees
Softly rustle in damp air.
Quote: "“They have no idea what it is like to lose home at the risk of never finding home again, have your entire life split between two lands and become the bridge between two countries.” –unknown
Amidst the whispers of the waves, I sail,
An expatriate adrift in memories pale.
Through years that roll like distant tides,
I've seen the changes, where once I bide.
In lands where mango, guava, and berry trees stood,
Now swallowed by progress, misunderstood.
Housing estates rise, devouring my past,
Soccer fields and cricket grounds, memories amassed.
No familiar faces in this foreign expanse,
Lost in the crowd, a solitary dance.
Relatives meet, but the gap's too wide,
They see the changes, the scars I hide.
I yearn for the homeland, under azure skies,
Where verdant bushes once met my eyes.
But alas, it's but a dream, a wistful sigh,
My voyage home, forever in the sky.
Yet in the heart's compass, the longing persists,
For the land of my roots, where memories exist.
Though oceans apart, in dreams, I roam,
A voyage to homeland, a whispered poem.
Like a man possessed we fight
'neath cool exteriors
a raging fire burns, day and night
We have nowhere to turn
no matter how we yearn
to parlez vous francais or habla ingles
Never quite accepted
by the whole world rejected
All our efforts reproved
ever on the move ...
I squirm and fidget
'cos I never quite fit in
Now, back in Israel
with God I dwell
I know who and what I am
back in my homeland
I think of my Cornish identity,
As on a cliff-top bench I sit,
And realise that Cornwall is a part of me
And I am a part of it,
I won’t be taken out of Cornwall
And you can’t take Cornwall out of me,
Though I gaze at far off horizons,
I know Cornwall is where I will stay
And is where I am meant to be.
Anaemia
Who cares for her once glorious dreams
Utopia is the new reality
Dopamine-starved citizens gaze forlornly
As blood feverishly flows out
From her gaping wounds
Siamese twins of hunger and anger
Starving her of peace and progress
In a land of high Testosterone
Security gone AWOL
Citizens on their own
Slowly but steadily
Life ebbs out
Deprived of nutrients and water
Homeland turned fiefdom by renegades
Despising folks, they make foes
Pious laughter loosens frown
of frail freedom
Blood-sapping East wind
Turns grasslands into deserts
Bruised and beaten by the day
Body and soul in dread of dawn
Conquer battlefields of the mind
With riots of laughter
This Mephistophelian theatre
With broken social ligaments and
Ruptured moral tendons
Will one day get a transfusion of a new life
Or die slowly and solemnly
of Anaemia
Homeland
Deafening silence echoing loud
Solace, serene winds bellowing out
Cowering pebbles whispering softly
Pristine sand gliding unknowingly
Rapturous rays of sun smiling
Windswept nature at its delaying
This is the beauty of my homeland
Smiling faces with warm hearts
Outstretched arms as a friendship start
No barriers, tangles, cobweb or hindrances
Only happy, ecstatic, blissful instances
Ready to help, reach out, lend a hand
Divided we fall, united we stand
This is the beauty of my homeland
No differences with neighbours we see
Similarities though are by far aplenty
Same skin colour, looks and features
Landscape, climate and even nature
This is the beauty of my homeland
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