Syrian Poems - Poems about Syrian

To the Syrian Refugees

Have wonderful days in Austria,
    until the war is over in Syria.
    Enjoy your life and adore
    what you can get. We give you more
    as we have for ourselves.
    We wish you the best, appreciate our helps.
  

A Syrian Child Is Now the Lamb of God

Immigrants are very useful now
Roast a Turk  to  share with all your street
Eat a Greek and let the people squeak
A Viking flames the pudding with a bow

Try a German sausage  in the Court
Eat him with a knife and fork  and bread
Frenchmen taste delicious  so it’s said
Finish  with a sailor

Icon of Syrian Revolution

How fast life goes! How slow we feel! 
When someone dear leaves us for real.
How hard it gets! How tough the deal! 
If they're sublime and have ideals. 
They pay so much and beat ordeals.
Their names spread and shake regimes.
They shine so bright and join sunbeams.
They soar so high no one can reach.
They speak a

Shifting Sands - a Syrian Prayer

I hope i have a pleasant death
somewhere in the wilderness, perhaps
clinging to a shriveled Apple, struggling
 to grow in the blazing sun, in a dusty
field on this warming, drying planet, or
maybe crushed beneath  a crumbling mosque
during prayers to heaven's deities
appeasing all that's good and just 
a gust of wind their hope in us
and give

Weeping Webbed World: Apropos of a Syrian Nightmare

Weeping Webbed World
(Apropos of a Syrian Nightmare) 

Affronts to humanity streak the skies
Like once perched war eagles
Soaring over communities of prey
Where the lingering smell of death
Is as normal as the scent flowers once had.

A grieving webbed world in abject apathy
Awaits the cesarean births of hope and peace—
Hope and peace laboring on the delivery table of

Syrian Dreams of the Arab Spring

A pockmarked plane atop the wooden box
tilts as it dips in the Syrian void,
its hollow compartment lining the faults like
a silver ball which never rests but always 
rolls, always weary those worrisome holes
that chisel the quarry to calcified clumps.
Six years spent fighting, flushing freedom
from his nepotistic keep, have rendered al-Assad
a face full of age, nights

Syrian Refugee, To Mumma

Mumma please find a new home for me,
Somewhere like Syria before, where I was extremely happy,
I know there were bombs going off permanently,
And I understand it was only safe to flee.

They took away everything from us, 
Including lives, schools, homes and trust. 
I don’t understand why we were caught in the fuss, 
And now our

Syrian Refugees

SYRIAN REFUGEES

I'm watching a programme on telly
About the Syrian refugees
Men and women and children
Humanity brought to its knees

I'm watching the desperate faces
The terror and hunger and fear
They're facing their ultimate nightmare
And me? Well I'm just sitting here

And saying 'Isn't it awful'
'Something needs to be done'
Whilst searching the TV listings
And planning my evening of fun

Then I

The Last Syrian Blood

I search for my family
friends
school 
hospital
homebound church

NOTHING WAS LEFT
NOTHING WAS LEFT
NOTHING WAS LEFT

I scream for help
NOTHING
I was so weak
 I don't even think anyone heard my voice

The blood dripping from my forehead
I knew I was half dead
But had the strength to push on
as the rocks that I walked upon
cut and bruised my feet
each step I

The Syrian Children

Such a war torn land yet so many children still remain
We simply couldn't understand it doesn't fit into our brain
Yet there they sill stand for there is no safe place to run
As the dead litter the land all the children wish is to again have fun

And maybe a small bite to eat even if just

To the Syrian Child

Dedicated to all the children who were
Victims of the conflicts in Syria

You have heard more grenades crack at dawn
As bullets wizz beneath your pale sun-
O Syrian Child! Whose family has been torn
By Taliban glories and Tribal rivalries.

O Syrian Child! To whom pain sets the day
To whom bliss only exists in the books-
You lost your sense

The Syrian Devil

Children lie dying
Punished for waking up one more day
In unbearable heat, in a dirty war
They have no Generals
To defend them
From the evils of men
They have no advocates for peace
All the gods seem to be sleeping
As so many infants weep, into deathly silence
They exist no more
Good men take no action
As evil men fight for more blood
We

Syrian Agony

A bird flying in the Sky
Can be evidence
May be blind
While the justice disappears
Over the point of view 
Down to as a whole

It may not downward
To sit with them
Sticks on the sky
Flying without aim
Looking back and at
The theories of peace

Word to word
Weapon to weapon  
Blood to blood
Hand to hand
To fight and to celebrate
For a happiness

The Syrian Spy

Invisible ink flows
Into the night ghosts go
The cedars bleed once more

Syrian Graveyard

Unnumbered human corpses
mutilated and spread
like illegally-shot elephants in Waza Park!
From ‘man know thyself’
to ‘man hates himself’-
humans mutilate humans!

Future-bound glorious infants,
feeble moms
and luck-abandoned dads
bombed, suffocated, shot and slain
by politico-economic drunks!
Yawning stomachs here,
blood-dripping arms there,
open-mouth frozen heads here,
rotting breasts there,
decomposing legs here…

We are in Homs,
we are in Alep,
we are in Damascus where
there has been fierce fighting
since long

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