Long Aviv Poems
Long Aviv Poems. Below are the most popular long Aviv by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aviv poems by poem length and keyword.
I
The historical record shows many intimate connections between Arabs, Muslims, Hebrews and Jews, and Babylon. The nation we equate with Israel began as tribes in the deserts of Arabia. Some of them were allies, some opponents, of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). However, we know his Uncle-in-law was Jewish via Khadijah, and helped the Prophet reject the fear he was insane, for hearing Gabriel speak some of the Old Testament scriptures to him.
II
The synagogue system of worship was begun in Ira q (Babylon)
III
Tel Aviv was a famous Jewish city in Iraq, before it was "revived" in present - day Israel.
IV
Strictly-speaking "Jews" refer to Jesus' tribe, as He is the Lion of Judah; the other 11 tribes of ancient Israel (Hebrew tribes) are the ten tribes of old Israel then called Samaria, or Ephraim with Samaria as the capital. The remaining tribe of Benjamin - from which the great missionary Paul (Saul) descended - was located in JUDEA, or the Southern Kingdom (with Jerusalem as capital).
V
As i pointed out previously, the Samaritans have survived for millennia near Mount Gerizim (adjoining Nablus, in the Occupied West Bank - which some Israelis call SAMARIA even today). They were persecuted by Arabs and Jews as neither fish nor fowl, especially during the 1940s, and during intifadas. West_bank Samaritans remained neutral, declaring their connection with Abraham through Jacob (Yakov) son of Isaac, grandson of Abraham. In the parables, Jesus spent much time showing the Samaritans as "good" and worth saving. Samaritans were not allowed to buy land in Israel after 1948; an exception was made in 1950s near Tel Aviv. Recently UKRAINIAN women are recruited as brides for the dwindling Samaritan population (GOOGLE this). Thanks to Israeli scholars who proved the Samaritan story in the 1950s.
shalom, shalom. Yes, we have differences, but we have much in common!
NOTES:
1. Khadijah, the Prophet's first wife, was a business man, and likely a Christian. Her father, Khuwaylid Ibn Asad was also leader in Quresh tribe.
2. Her relative, Warak -al-Naufal (sometimes El-NORFIL) was a Christian and a minister. Of course he used the Bible in Arabic (as ME Christians still do).
I arrived in Moscow on a morning veiled in silence,
the sky holding its breath over the Kremlin.
Putin’s eyes met Zelenskyy’s—
not as enemies, but men who had buried too many sons.
The vodka was cold, but the room burned with memory.
I said nothing at first—
sometimes, silence is the loudest wisdom.
Then I spoke:
“Peace is not the absence of war, but the end of vengeance.”
And for once, they listened.
We signed no treaties.
We touched no scrolls.
We shared the blood of truth in our throats.
And the wind outside wept like a mother
waiting for her child to come home from history.
Then I flew to Tel Aviv,
where fear walked in human skin.
Netanyahu sat beneath gold and ghosts.
He asked me, “Will they forgive me?”
I replied, “Only the dead forgive without condition.
But the living—they demand justice with breath and bone.”
His hands trembled.
His voice cracked under the weight of Gaza’s rubble.
And still, I saw a man—
not a monster,
just a soul drowning in the empire’s wine.
I called Trump. I called Ursula. I summoned António.
The room was a battlefield of ideologies.
But truth, like a sword, sliced through the noise:
“No one wins in war. Not truly. Not eternally.”
Five hours later—
The two-state solution,
Rebuilding Palestine,
A decade of reparations,
An erased indictment in exchange for a public confession.
Then I boarded a plane for Sudan.
Congo. Libya.
Where peace still bleeds slowly
into the soil of forgotten kingdoms.
I carry no title.
No crown.
Just a pen sharper than any bayonet
and a heart that cannot stop mourning.
Call me what you will—
Diplomat, heretic, dreamer,
But know this:
When the last bomb drops,
When the last child cries,
It will not be generals who write the future—
It will be poets.
for a little slander
The new president of America has told Europe to look after its own defense which means NATO without the USA’s help becomes a boy’s club for retired politicians pretending, they are a fighting force eager to defend Ukraine which can’t be done without dragging without risking a serious world war, they hands are tied since Ukraine s not in NATO, an easy excuse because we know it is not true, but it has not stopped leaders in Europe to hammer their support of Ukraine to get at the Russians although knowing the war could have been avoided but for idiotic policies
Oh, how Europe’s leaders hugged Ukraine to their hearts delivering money and weapons to what was and is a corrupt regime
How quickly they changed tunes when the USA told the truth, mates you are on your own we will not defend you anymore you are masters in your land and responsible for your own security How sweet it was to my ears spoken by a man we vilify because he wears a tie too long for the snobs in Brussels who has a leader that wears her hair as fashioned like a helmet
After a shocked silence voices were heard but the man was right, we are responsible for our security -silly sods- Suddenly -Ukraine was no longer Europe and must find peace with Russia Spring thawed in February, on Valentine's Day on a day when Macron’s and Obama’s wives exchanged glances
For us, we were humbled and ignored it was a great day too finally the war is not imminent but we must not forget the clever people in Tel Aviv will find a way to upset the Apple chart
The slaughterer came to the market
Dancing and wielding a matchet
He sang songs of sorrow;
And wrote rhymes for his victims of tomorrow.
He grabs lands at his will
There is nothing he cannot steal.
He has stolen people’s identities
In his quest to commit atrocities.
The slaughterer’s threat is real
With the devil he had struck a deal
To kill those who opposes him
For in his face we are all Gohim.
The slaughterer detests peace
With him the world is no longer at ease.
He spares not innocent children
And he blackmails his brethren.
The slaughterer swims and drinks
From the gruesome river of blood
Of women and children he had killed
In the face of the world’s hypocrisy.
The slaughterer in Tel-Aviv has gone mad
From the boarders of Jordan, Lebanon and Islamabad,
He longs to destroy those he stole their lands.
And return homes back to dust and sands.
The slaughterer’s cowardice is imminent
When he meets his match on the battle-field
He runs to his accomplice in the devil’s own land
For money and the tools of his crimes
And now that we know the slaughterer
That maims children and women at will
He calls us all anti-Semites;
A name he stole from those whom he now oppresses.
For 75 years Israel has offered peace to her neighbors
the Arab response, 'Never!' -- be Israel's leaders Likud or Labor
From 1948 to 1967, before 'territories,' before 'occupation'
when Israel was an almost indefensible sliver of a nation
The Arabs promised time and again to 'throw the Jews into the sea'
There was no 'West Bank' or Gaza, they meant Haifa and Tel Aviv
From ’48 on, Egypt and Jordan have kept Palestinians in refugee camps
And, O, how the pressure from the world has climbed up the ramp
Zionism became racism, Jews the ‘evil oppressors’
In 1956, ’67, ’73, ’82, ’87, 2000, the Arabs waged war and intifadas to
become our successors
Under Rabin and again under Barak, Israel offered Palestinians a state
over 90% of Gaza and the ‘West Bank,’ Pres. Clinton said ‘That’s great!’
But Yasir Arafat said Never! His one and only goal was to kill all the Jews
--It had gotten to be depressingly old news
In 2005, Arik Sharon pulled out of Gaza, no more ‘Israeli occupation’ there
What happened next? Hamas took over, but the world didn’t care …
In 2023 Israel’s still termed ‘the occupier’ – by Arab sympathizers
But after the Oct. 07 atrocities, the game’s up for them
~ 75 years of peace offers just expired
Blue-gray the barren mountains of Moab
at dusk . . . a tour bus winds its way
up to Jerusalem, City of God, from Tel Aviv.
How one feels, the emotion, is difficult to convey;
the very mold of earth, contours of land,
grip my heart and I feel a rising tide of tears
sting my eyes. I am assaulted by colors, manifold
and magnificent, that tantalize, pierce
my inner being. The colors of humanity's face
in multiple tones and shades of brown: pecan
mahogany, cinnamon, hazelnut,
walnut, bisque, ebony and tan;
I see eyes of most unusual hues,
the colors of sea mist, celery, black, pale jade,
olive bark, tiger's eye, leaf of blue sage.
This ancient land . . . world religions on parade
in conflict claiming holy sites, the Temple Mount
the ultimate, golden prize. I walk for days
treasuring the feel of this earth beneath my feet,
tramping dusty brown paths and secret ways
in this place where Jesus lived and died.
I bend beneath close gray rocks to gaze
upon His birthplace in humble Bethlehem - a cave;
I mark the stations of the cross where His love blazed
in flames of blood red, marking His lonely, crowded path
from scourging trial to Golgotha's skull marked hill;
and there He offered up His pure white heart
humanity's black sin to cover and my poor soul to fill.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, June 23, 2014
Those claiming their religious pride
With snide invective speech,
Insult all those who don't abide
With what that pride might preach.
These sideshow barkers blowin' wind,
Who count the coin each night
Are parasites who preach on sin,
Like bloated beasts of blight.
They rant and bend the righteous word
To save new souls each day,
But words once used and often heard
Are soon to be passee.
Bring forth and save both rich and poor
Jehovah wants them back.
The sinning Saint and Saintly whore,
In danger of attack.
All children claimed by Christian fire
Must pray for God's good grace
To slay the sin of dark desire
That leads men to disgrace.
The preacher begs and then he pleads,
Conversion's case so clear,
Professing love for souls who need
Relief from grief and fear.
I say give all your wealth away
To prove great sacrifice.
From Tel Aviv to Rome today,
Divest and roll the dice.
Be prophets setting poor men free
And leave your gold charade.
Accumulate humility;
Not one cathedral saved.
No mighty crystal palace stands!
No Roman banks to own!
No ducat left in greedy hands
Worn down by tithes to bone.
Then I shall feed and comfort you
If you need board and bed,
For I will do what God would do
Before mankind is dead!
MIDNIGHT FLIGHT TO TEL AVIV
Scoff she did at friends now spirit filled
Eyes were trained on tasks and money trails
Work was done and clean up for milk spilled
Never ending chores hit her like winter gales--
Promised visit found her jetting toward the sun
Heart was grabbed while she was somewhere in midair
Sabbath sent the holy airborne into whispering hum
Exchanging places through the night in black clad pairs--
From her feet she felt the wondrous change
Overcome infused with humble eager bliss--
Once announced in Hebrew airspace something strange
Israeli pride of kindred spirit touched her like a kiss
Homebound Hebrews burst in song
Festive clapping, lively stomping feet
This exuberant joy could not be wrong
Such sweet passion was complete
Victoria Anderson-Throop
2013
Mogadishu ...
Black Hawk helicopter down
Caracas ...
Riots burning everything to the ground
New Orleans ...
Katrina tears has gotten many more drowned
Manila ...
Government death squads are roaming around
Global Dystopia
Earth frowns
Parents and children weeping,
sad mourning sounds
Everyday the sun comes up,
hope goes down
Bi’lin ...
Smouldering settlement protests sparks up
Baghdad ...
A covered face blew up the church bus
Philadelphia ...
Government bombing citizens they don’t trust
Hiroshima ...
Radiation wine still overflowing from the cup
Global Dystopia
Ain’t we had enough
Can’t take no more mushroom clouds
raining on Earth’s thin crust
Everyday the sun goes down,
dark hopelessness rises up
Tshikapa ...
Crystal clear diamonds covered in jungle blood
Sarajevo ...
War crime bodies dumped in mass graves covered by mud
Tel Aviv ...
Sleeping residents killed by a black market American SCUD
Chicago ...
Lead poisoned urban poor houses built by HUD
Global Dystopia
Earth cries
Parents and children missing,
news covered up by politician lies
The day the sun doesn’t standstill,
all hope then dies
O brilliant son of the desert,
You rose through the maze of your House
With precision sharper than a blade.
The future trembles beneath your feet—
But power, untempered by wisdom,
Is a fire that devours its bearer.
Do not chase the glory of empires too fast.
Rome was not built in one day—
And neither shall a just Arabia.
You cannot serve two masters:
The West with its silver tongue,
And your people, whose eyes still hunger.
Choose neutrality not as weakness,
But as strategy.
Your true legacy lies not in gold towers,
But in lifting the soul of your nation.
Forsake not your brother, Iran.
To unite the Crescent is to raise a new dawn.
The blood of Gaza weeps through the sand,
And every drop asks:
"Where is our brother?"
Sunni, Shia, Sufi—one people,
Divided by politics, not by God.
To unite them is to write your name beside kings,
To divide them is to sow your own ruin.
Beware the advisors with smiles from Tel Aviv
And tongues sharpened in Washington.
They do not dream for you—
They only use your night to hide their shadow.
The Middle East can rise again,
But only if you learn this truth:
Real power is not feared,
It is trusted.