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Some poems about life in an occupied country...
Hopefully you will find these interesting...
"BORN ON ANGRY SOIL"
He walks alone through the imaginary island
Taking in all that is beautiful.
He imagines there is peace, he imagines there is love
As he fills his island with his dear ones.
His movements are gentle, his thoughts pure and innocent
This child born on angry soil.
His imaginary island is the only place he is free
In his real world there is nothing beautiful
There exists no peace, there exists no love
He has been torn away from his dear ones.
Yet, his movements are gentle, his thoughts pure and innocent
This child born on angry soil.
His oppressor's children play on real islands
While he sits alone and weeps.
He wonders when he'll laugh, he wonders when he'll live
As his world falls down around him.
Still, his movements are gentle, his thoughts pure and innocent
This child born on angry soil.
"TRAPPED"
Trapped inside myself, longing with desparation for the time to come when I shall feel no pain
Aching with hunger for the unfulfilled desire of pleasures never known unto me
Freedom to simply be
without permission
without supervision
without the constraints of emotional blackmail.
Haunted by dreams, resigning myself to the knowledge that I cannot escape
Confused by the messages passed thru me of things yet to be
secrets from the past
warnings of the future
confused by my role as the character yet unknown.
The shackles around my feet grow tighter now, cutting into my flesh as I try to step forward
Determined to perservere even as the steel draws closer to bone
unable to accept my sentence
unable to give in and admit to what seems inevitable.
Tortured by the irony I force myself to endure, waiting for the hopes buried in my dark side to come to light
Pained by the reality that I must live inside my imagination
For what is outside of that is not life
but a perverted nightmare.
Hating myself for being forced to be the kind of person I've always despised
One who denies his own feelings and suppresses his yearnings because he's too tired to run
Wanting so much for someone to see the real truth
so I won't be alone
alone in my pain
alone in my longing
alone with no home.
Frustration overwhelms every waking moment, thoughts of..
what could have been and what should have been
what could be and what should be..
flood my mind
despite endless efforts to deal with what is.
Speaking between the lines, I wait for a glimmer of understanding from someone who cares
Waiting to be assurred that that someone exists
but that is hope against hope
still hope's all I've got left to cling to...
"IF I HAD THE EAR OF GOD..."
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my mother her son back he was only nine.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my father his olive grove back he was just about To harvest it.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my brother his arm back it was small but it was One of only two he has.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my sister her husband back
He went to work last week and never came back.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give me a road to school they
Shot at us on the last one we took.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him for a sea of chocolate in heaven so
My little sister can have all the chocolate she wants she was only four.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my friend his mother back he
Is only seven and cries all the time.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to destroy all the camps in a
Hurricane so we would not have to live there any more.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him for a chance to keep my head held
High and not die with my face in the gutter like my father.
If I had the ear of God I would not ask him for sympathy only a rock and a
heart.
"HOW CAN THEY STILL GO ON..."
Tell me what do you see in that crying child's eye?
The one standing by the rubbles and blood, surrounded by wails and crys
Can you see the delicate hand peaking from beneath the ruins?
That was his mother's, but now he's alone with only the desperate moon
The air is thick with sadness, death, and little songs of sorrows
How can they still go on and live until tomorrow...?
"WHO AM I?"
Who am I you ask?
I do not exist
I have no country
No home
No passport
No land
Who am I you ask?
I do not exist
I have no future
No past
No path
Who am I you ask?
I know who I am
I know where I came from
And where all my loved ones have gone
I had a mother she wept day and night
For a son she had that never made it home
She is at peace now
I had a brother he died
He made his last stand with a stone in hand
I had a father that taught me to fight
With gun, with stone, with might
Who am I you ask?
I know who I am
I have this card
NRWA card number 8425
Who am I you ask?
I have no name
I was made in Dair Yassen
I was made in Sabra
I was made in Shatela
I was made in Jennen
And I will not forget
And I will not falter
I will walk out of my camp
With head held high
Kill if you will
Here I make my stand
Kill if you will
Here I make my stand
"WATCH ME BLEED"
Come, my brother, enter herein - enter my life.
You wanted to know, you wanted to see - come, taste my strife.
You speak of peace so easily - not knowing my war - not feeling my pain.
Your "justice for all" is only "justice for few" while the guilty remain.
You want us to put our weapons down, while their weapons persist.
For you - easy talk. For you- food, family and freedom exist.
It might make you feel good to speak out on aggression and say that you care.
But that does not give you license to make my decisions while I am not there.
You set up your conferences to "educate others" on our situation.
Yet, you pick your own speakers to represent us while we lose our nation.
You say you are with us and convince all around you it is peace that you seek.
You say you will listen, you say you will hear us, but you won't let us speak.
And you with the peace signs, organizing your marches, please only yourselves.
You think your good thoughts can alone change the world like your signs on the shelves.
You must face reality You think it is simple - it simply is not.
Reality is watching your land taken away and your relatives shot.
Two fingers up does not stop a bullet and make everything right.
Righteous indignation does you no good if you won't see the light.
You ask lots of questions, but won't hear our answers about what we need.
The only thing left is for me to invite you to come watch me bleed...
"FALL MY CHILDREN"
Fall my children; keep him warm as he departs
cover him from the bitterness of this cold air
for I knew him, and his father before him
he was but three summers when he first climbed upon my old arms
as his father has done many winters gone
his mother left him here before, although he was not cold then
for it was high summer in Palestine and summers here are sweet
she left him as she picked tobacco from the field yonder
he crawled then too though his progress was not arduous
now she leaves him once again for the last time
so cover him my children for now he dies motherless
he dies fatherless
he dies landless
cover him my children lest he leaves this world friendless
for he has crawled here seeking the comfort of our touch and memories of a different time
a time when he did not know about the settlers over the hill
a time when he did not know the feel of a rubber bullet as it rips through flesh
a time when he did not know the feel of a bulldozer as it ripped through cement, home, and life
a time when he did not know the feel of being nothing, no one, no where
a time when he did not know the sound of a cold jail cell door crashing
a time when he was but three summers, playing as his mother picked tobacco in the field yonder
cover him my children he is cold and tired
cover him my children and give him peace
comfort him one last time as you comforted his father before him
"MY BELOVED LEFT FOR PALESTINE"
My beloved left for Palestine
Telling me he would be mine
He asked me if I'd wait for him
If he put his life out on a limb.
The phone went dead, the sirens blared
Throughout it all he was not scared
His final breath flowed from his chest.
Then the angels took him home to rest.
My beloved left for Jennatain
Leaving me to grieve in pain
I asked him if he'd wait for me
Until my soul was rendered free
Days turned into months and years
Throughout it all I still shed tears
Sighs of grief flow from my chest
O Angels, take me home to rest.
My babies left for Palestine
"We love you mommy, we'll be fine"
The soldiers came and razed the ground
They never even heard a sound
The missiles screamed, the sirens blared
But, across the ocean no one cared
A mother's grief stays in her chest
O Allah help me bear this test.
I long to leave for Palestine
And claim the love that once was mine
O Aqsa will you wait for me?
If I give my life to set you free?
I long to leave for Jannatain
And leave behind the grief and pain
Will Allah save a place for me?
Or will my deeds bring misery?
Days will lead to months and years
I ask for mercy through my tears
Sighs of grief flow from my chest
O Angels, take me home to rest.
"MY SWEET DAUGHTER"
In May 2001, Iman Hejo, 4 months old, youngest Palestinian ever to be killed by Israelis...
My heart is burning,
My homeland is sinking
In a sea of blood, we are all drifting
The Israelis aimed at my Sweet Daughter
My precious rose, the bullet pierced through,
Shocked I stare, your eyes are closed
My sweet daughter,
Seeing your toys, I will cry.
Your memories are everywhere,
As wide as the sky
In the morning, to your bed I will fly,
In the evening, I will wash your clothes,
To me, you will never die
Your smile, will forever shine
Your laughter will forever echo
in this heart of mine
I will extend my arms,
Lift you high in the air,
Hold you as tight as a teddy bear
See my empty arms!
As quietly I drop my head
And silently cry
I love you, I love you
I will always love you.
My precious child
Forever I will ask why ¿ why?
Why kill my four months old baby?
My sweet precious daughter,
Why ¿ why?
I will, forever weep,
My tears will never dry,
My heart will forever cry
If you are interested, more poems could be found here:
"BORN ON ANGRY SOIL"
He walks alone through the imaginary island
Taking in all that is beautiful.
He imagines there is peace, he imagines there is love
As he fills his island with his dear ones.
His movements are gentle, his thoughts pure and innocent
This child born on angry soil.
His imaginary island is the only place he is free
In his real world there is nothing beautiful
There exists no peace, there exists no love
He has been torn away from his dear ones.
Yet, his movements are gentle, his thoughts pure and innocent
This child born on angry soil.
His oppressor's children play on real islands
While he sits alone and weeps.
He wonders when he'll laugh, he wonders when he'll live
As his world falls down around him.
Still, his movements are gentle, his thoughts pure and innocent
This child born on angry soil.
"TRAPPED"
Trapped inside myself, longing with desparation for the time to come when I shall feel no pain
Aching with hunger for the unfulfilled desire of pleasures never known unto me
Freedom to simply be
without permission
without supervision
without the constraints of emotional blackmail.
Haunted by dreams, resigning myself to the knowledge that I cannot escape
Confused by the messages passed thru me of things yet to be
secrets from the past
warnings of the future
confused by my role as the character yet unknown.
The shackles around my feet grow tighter now, cutting into my flesh as I try to step forward
Determined to perservere even as the steel draws closer to bone
unable to accept my sentence
unable to give in and admit to what seems inevitable.
Tortured by the irony I force myself to endure, waiting for the hopes buried in my dark side to come to light
Pained by the reality that I must live inside my imagination
For what is outside of that is not life
but a perverted nightmare.
Hating myself for being forced to be the kind of person I've always despised
One who denies his own feelings and suppresses his yearnings because he's too tired to run
Wanting so much for someone to see the real truth
so I won't be alone
alone in my pain
alone in my longing
alone with no home.
Frustration overwhelms every waking moment, thoughts of..
what could have been and what should have been
what could be and what should be..
flood my mind
despite endless efforts to deal with what is.
Speaking between the lines, I wait for a glimmer of understanding from someone who cares
Waiting to be assurred that that someone exists
but that is hope against hope
still hope's all I've got left to cling to...
"IF I HAD THE EAR OF GOD..."
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my mother her son back he was only nine.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my father his olive grove back he was just about To harvest it.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my brother his arm back it was small but it was One of only two he has.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my sister her husband back
He went to work last week and never came back.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give me a road to school they
Shot at us on the last one we took.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him for a sea of chocolate in heaven so
My little sister can have all the chocolate she wants she was only four.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to give my friend his mother back he
Is only seven and cries all the time.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him to destroy all the camps in a
Hurricane so we would not have to live there any more.
If I had the ear of God I would ask him for a chance to keep my head held
High and not die with my face in the gutter like my father.
If I had the ear of God I would not ask him for sympathy only a rock and a
heart.
"HOW CAN THEY STILL GO ON..."
Tell me what do you see in that crying child's eye?
The one standing by the rubbles and blood, surrounded by wails and crys
Can you see the delicate hand peaking from beneath the ruins?
That was his mother's, but now he's alone with only the desperate moon
The air is thick with sadness, death, and little songs of sorrows
How can they still go on and live until tomorrow...?
"WHO AM I?"
Who am I you ask?
I do not exist
I have no country
No home
No passport
No land
Who am I you ask?
I do not exist
I have no future
No past
No path
Who am I you ask?
I know who I am
I know where I came from
And where all my loved ones have gone
I had a mother she wept day and night
For a son she had that never made it home
She is at peace now
I had a brother he died
He made his last stand with a stone in hand
I had a father that taught me to fight
With gun, with stone, with might
Who am I you ask?
I know who I am
I have this card
NRWA card number 8425
Who am I you ask?
I have no name
I was made in Dair Yassen
I was made in Sabra
I was made in Shatela
I was made in Jennen
And I will not forget
And I will not falter
I will walk out of my camp
With head held high
Kill if you will
Here I make my stand
Kill if you will
Here I make my stand
"WATCH ME BLEED"
Come, my brother, enter herein - enter my life.
You wanted to know, you wanted to see - come, taste my strife.
You speak of peace so easily - not knowing my war - not feeling my pain.
Your "justice for all" is only "justice for few" while the guilty remain.
You want us to put our weapons down, while their weapons persist.
For you - easy talk. For you- food, family and freedom exist.
It might make you feel good to speak out on aggression and say that you care.
But that does not give you license to make my decisions while I am not there.
You set up your conferences to "educate others" on our situation.
Yet, you pick your own speakers to represent us while we lose our nation.
You say you are with us and convince all around you it is peace that you seek.
You say you will listen, you say you will hear us, but you won't let us speak.
And you with the peace signs, organizing your marches, please only yourselves.
You think your good thoughts can alone change the world like your signs on the shelves.
You must face reality You think it is simple - it simply is not.
Reality is watching your land taken away and your relatives shot.
Two fingers up does not stop a bullet and make everything right.
Righteous indignation does you no good if you won't see the light.
You ask lots of questions, but won't hear our answers about what we need.
The only thing left is for me to invite you to come watch me bleed...
"FALL MY CHILDREN"
Fall my children; keep him warm as he departs
cover him from the bitterness of this cold air
for I knew him, and his father before him
he was but three summers when he first climbed upon my old arms
as his father has done many winters gone
his mother left him here before, although he was not cold then
for it was high summer in Palestine and summers here are sweet
she left him as she picked tobacco from the field yonder
he crawled then too though his progress was not arduous
now she leaves him once again for the last time
so cover him my children for now he dies motherless
he dies fatherless
he dies landless
cover him my children lest he leaves this world friendless
for he has crawled here seeking the comfort of our touch and memories of a different time
a time when he did not know about the settlers over the hill
a time when he did not know the feel of a rubber bullet as it rips through flesh
a time when he did not know the feel of a bulldozer as it ripped through cement, home, and life
a time when he did not know the feel of being nothing, no one, no where
a time when he did not know the sound of a cold jail cell door crashing
a time when he was but three summers, playing as his mother picked tobacco in the field yonder
cover him my children he is cold and tired
cover him my children and give him peace
comfort him one last time as you comforted his father before him
"MY BELOVED LEFT FOR PALESTINE"
My beloved left for Palestine
Telling me he would be mine
He asked me if I'd wait for him
If he put his life out on a limb.
The phone went dead, the sirens blared
Throughout it all he was not scared
His final breath flowed from his chest.
Then the angels took him home to rest.
My beloved left for Jennatain
Leaving me to grieve in pain
I asked him if he'd wait for me
Until my soul was rendered free
Days turned into months and years
Throughout it all I still shed tears
Sighs of grief flow from my chest
O Angels, take me home to rest.
My babies left for Palestine
"We love you mommy, we'll be fine"
The soldiers came and razed the ground
They never even heard a sound
The missiles screamed, the sirens blared
But, across the ocean no one cared
A mother's grief stays in her chest
O Allah help me bear this test.
I long to leave for Palestine
And claim the love that once was mine
O Aqsa will you wait for me?
If I give my life to set you free?
I long to leave for Jannatain
And leave behind the grief and pain
Will Allah save a place for me?
Or will my deeds bring misery?
Days will lead to months and years
I ask for mercy through my tears
Sighs of grief flow from my chest
O Angels, take me home to rest.
"MY SWEET DAUGHTER"
In May 2001, Iman Hejo, 4 months old, youngest Palestinian ever to be killed by Israelis...
My heart is burning,
My homeland is sinking
In a sea of blood, we are all drifting
The Israelis aimed at my Sweet Daughter
My precious rose, the bullet pierced through,
Shocked I stare, your eyes are closed
My sweet daughter,
Seeing your toys, I will cry.
Your memories are everywhere,
As wide as the sky
In the morning, to your bed I will fly,
In the evening, I will wash your clothes,
To me, you will never die
Your smile, will forever shine
Your laughter will forever echo
in this heart of mine
I will extend my arms,
Lift you high in the air,
Hold you as tight as a teddy bear
See my empty arms!
As quietly I drop my head
And silently cry
I love you, I love you
I will always love you.
My precious child
Forever I will ask why ¿ why?
Why kill my four months old baby?
My sweet precious daughter,
Why ¿ why?
I will, forever weep,
My tears will never dry,
My heart will forever cry
If you are interested, more poems could be found here:
To all DLs.
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