Rubbles Poems | Examples

Modern Day Macbeth

A mother walks through bullets for bread
A child through shellfire for a sip of grain
Young girls bleed in corners quietly
Toddlers die in mothers' arm from thirst.

This is the plot, world is writing on,
Poets, presidents, painters even parrots
all scribbling words on rubbles and ruins.

An aid truck hums like ice cream van
drawing children to their deaths.
Graves are homes, morgues have IV drips
beeping machines mourn louder than mothers.

This is the setting, leaders are banking on.
Protestors, professors, publishers even pilgrims
all parading pain for policies and propaganda.

Camera's click as children chase compassion
Aid drops flutter like dying doves
every countable rib is a bestseller,
Prime time feeds on man-made famine.

This is the climax, audience is locked on
Photographers, producers, preachers even podcasters
all packaging pain for premieres and praise.

This is the modern-day Macbeth where power demands
we slit our conscience to wear crowns.
Guilt is a graveyard and every prophecy is screaming
from scorched soil to sear our souls.

Mountain of lies

By: Khomotso Makitla

Dear loved one, It’s me your UNREQUITED LOVER. 
In hope I hoped that this day never unveil.
As your WHISPERS still roam free in brain, whispers 
and hisses of broken promises.
I nearly fumbled to open my heart once more, 
But I once trembled on your mountain of lies.

Stone by stone I was there but there I was not,
Piles of those stones turned into a mountain and far i was pushed.
That mountain’s shadow tinted my heart,
For my heart is dark still, and I thought I was tough like steel.
But you’ve shown how easy it is to steal, once vital organ,
And turn it into a hard and cold object.

But I watched as your mountain of lies Mounts and the colder you become.
The shoulder to cry on, turned into the shoulder that made me cry on,
Never believed in cruelty, but that was my reality.
Surely I didn’t believe that rubbles of stones can incline into this  shade of, 
Darkness, that blind folded me from seeing the majestic hill up front.

That why I like to say fool me once, and like ancient Artifacts you will,
Be the thing of the past. ©?

The Other Side

The Other Side

The day looms tall 
Crushing the hopes 
of every budding reed
with ruinous strikes 
of harrowing memories 
raiding the mind
See the broken rubbles
of shattered Dauntless desires
dancing with the blustering wind
bestowing bleakness 
stirring endless expectations

Internal Humanity

Thinking, deciding, and cuddling all muddle flow.
I'm not a wiz; I solve, yet my riddles, I know
My thoughts and deeds, like an artists', are creative.
My reflecting and planning are liberative.
Should dews of hope be erased by beams of despair?
Should my compassion change as per seasonal air?

There are unconscious courses in my mind and soul.
Like webs that fuse each fleck and speck into a whole
Nightmares that slaughter peace within the inner shrine's core
Feeling that, like birds, above the skies of mind sore
Impulsive admiration of flimsy beauty
All this progress as though a soon-to-do duty

Love, happiness, forgiveness, compassion, and trust
Collide with loneliness, helplessness, and disgust
Self-awareness, like a breeze between tempests, struggles
Between beliefs and doubts, there are silent rubbles.
While sour dualities of good and bad exist
Isn't there, between each straight-seeming path, a twist?

Since 1948

The fire was burning like inferno 
Blood, burned fleshes of the people
Ashes of lost hopes and believes
Under the rubbles of the ruined city

And the skies beyond the river 
Beyond the seas of human aspirations
Occupied by the invader and the allies
With the lies and hatred and arsenals

Again, those children without limbs
Among the shadows of the dead bodies
Smelling like burned fleshes, rotten
Yet, with memories- burning like hell

The leaders around the round table
Like those cannibals of Neolithic age
Beaming in joy, with wider smiles
Smelling human fleshes burned alive

Yet nothing was objectionable after
Those lies and deceptions of October 7th
As everything was just in accordance
With the Nakba, since 1948. Since long…

©SriSuvro 3rd August’ 2024

Rubbles of a memory

High upon the rubbles, a country shall reign
A generation to continue the lost struggles
And they shall fight, a fight to exist
And that fight shall be to rein and not be obliterated.
Palestinians for the land of Palestine.

High from the mountains, down to the valleys 
Far from the river, near to the sea
A country, A promise, A race
Thousands shall perish for the dream
Millions shall live for the dream
That's the seed of the great Olive.

To live or not to leave
When shall it be, when, when, and I ask when?
When all these is over, there shall be a Palestine
Even when all is bombarded, there shall reman a race
When Zion walks away in shame of victory..

But as Zion reigns, Palestine shall never bow or crumble in a stone age
So shall it stands still as rubbles of a memory.

Trying To Find Hope

 Here I go searching for it 
        again 
 Amongst the rubbles of my 
broken heart...
Like a flower that blooms 
     each springtime 
 It grows inside of me,  
            time and time
            Again*

Somewhere Down the Road

Somewhere down the road we pass
Under sun's heat, drops amass
Sweat and tears we blast
First kept then cast
Under the Moon's hex that was

Journey along the road we surpass
Under the bridge, jubilation of wrasse
Above our shoulders we carry the mass
Somewhere down the road we pass

Through the wide and crooked roads are crasse
Rubbles spewed by winds on stained glass
Up the road of heights is a watch glass
Down the road we seize grimes of brass
Then lie down on beds of hushed grass
Somewhere down the road we pass

On the Run

Nigerians are on the run
Refugees in search of Asylum 
No more sweetness in their fatherland
Their dreams have crumbled 

The giant of Africa is in shambles
With hope of her youth buried under the rubbles of
Man made insurgency
Banditry and insane killings

Evil holds sway everywhere 
While goodness scamper to safety 
Succor for the needy 
Has been looted by the greedy 

Kidnapping has been legalized
As perpetrators haggle ransom 
With constituted authorities 
Like in the open market 
While security forces stand aloof 
Awaiting their share of the pie
Armaggeddon is surely here

Searching For Value

what Caesar? what Rome? What History? What Victory ?
Search in the rubbles! in ruins they lie!
What mansion? what wealth? what silver? what gold?what treasures?
what becomes of them after  you die?
moments of joy, memories of family and love,
are worth more than what money can buy!!


Written 30/10/2021
Bite Size Poetry contest 25
Line Gauthier sponsored
6 lines 13, 9 syllables alternate lines.

Evie's Cookin Da Books

When Evie wrote her first cook book
Her neighbour, Val, oh how she shook
What she found on page nine
Was HER steak in red wine
She declared sneaky Evie a crook
 
It caused such abominable troubles
Especially when Val’s cousin, Bubbles
Found HER trout recipe
On page seventy three
Evie's reputation is in rubbles


For Evie her goose is now cooked
‘Fowl’ actions can’t be overlooked
Recipes not by her
Sure has caused quite a stir
Her deception it now has been booked

Thanks to Lin Lane for her comment on the poem which inspired the final stanza ... and before anyone asks ... I DID ask permission to use her thoughts lol!


Inspired after reading an article on recipes being plagiarised 

https://www.eater.com/2015/3/19/8259393/recipe-plagiarism-in-the-food-world-is-still-rampant



04/02/20

Resigned

I lay in love
As would be a shoreline
Enjoying the ebb of your tides upon me
I lay in love
Rejoicing the lusty touch of your waves on me
Content, fully aware that you remain here
As each sunset promised the sunrise!

But your hatred surged at me,
As would the wreck of a tsunami,
Destroying my shoreline,
Drowning me in tons of rubbles and dirt
So much that now
I just keep praying:
May it be that your hatred kills me
As, existing in such a broken state
Would lead me nowhere!

I lay now, hurt and damaged
Trying to get a grip on myself
And on my unwilling existence
I lay, praying that your hatred
Would grip my heart with such force
That it would stop beating, thereby
Bringing an end to this cursed existence
That I lead, willed by the skies themselves!

Pray, this world has no meaning whatsoever, yet,
In you, I had found my purpose and my anchorage
But a diseased reef would never be able to please you
Who are used to the fragrance of sparkling ones!

I lay still in love, and now try to find my peace in counting
Grains of sand, while waiting for the end of my existence!

For Contest Your Best New Poem 
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet 
Written on 8 Dec 2019

When Cherubs Sway

From a quaint chalet, one young mother breaks into solace glancing at doves wheel across a teal skyscape.  Like intermittent flashes, her lucid memory recounts the giggles of her son rising near a hill... a pleasant outburst for a boy wagging and tugging his paper kite. 

Mid-autumn is a season of murky trails on pastoral ledges. As sunset dips its crown, a loud holler bangs among slime of marbles. The woman’s vision smears...  feet race with an icy wind. ‘My child, my child!’,  she fumbles.  Down the curve lies her offspring trapped under rubbles, motionless.  The kite, nowhere to be found... until


 cherub birds sway low
                  wrapping youngster in gold  light--
                  bleak autumn defied



8/2/2019
Angels Danced Contest of Lu Loo

Wave Fest of a Lake

From its own space  in pastels of morning
Our town's lake wheels beneath a hued cloudscape,
When day caresses and traipses inland
New sun unveiling an auroral drape.

How tides frolic on rubbles that grace by
This pure moment holding an endless fest…
When jiggle-wiggle sound of breakers glide
As egrets' chorale peaks their tune with zest.

On through shoreline basking  on grass and fern
Canvas of trees come noon...rests from this spree:
Until sand dunes quiet down to merge 
With waves now tame ...ending lake's jubilee.


------------
8/08/2019
Devotion To Ocean Contest 
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke

Looking For My Palestina

I Came To the Medina
Looking for my Palestina
Baby my Baby 
Where are you?
Still under the rubbles?
Still alive my Diva 
Oh my Devina!

The Highways robbers,
The snitch, the pimps of the Dollar, 
And of the Shekel,
Still abusing the little 
Ballerina,

But she defied them all,
And she is still standing on one little toe, 
With no support,
Since she became,
Now lonely in an orphelinat
My beloved, my adorable
Palestina!

Live, and live and live now,
And in the future,
Despite the A...Rabs 
And the Gulf lackeys
And Al Alkami of the Palace,
Still serving his bosses,
In the Medina,


Snitching, selling his own meat,
His own flesh and honour to the Zombies,
Who used Red Indians, 
Puerto Ricans, 
And poor destitute, 
Oppressed Latina

But remember my hero, 
Who reduced those to zero,
That was once, in the famous,
Battle of all battles,
Of Hattina!

Saladin here he lives today, 
And tomorrow,
With a million and a billion,
Enforced by men of deed, 
Not of a creed,
And true soldiers, 
Martyrs, Mudjahideena!

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