112 posts
  • usmanshaikh47 11w

    Free Palestine

    It's not rain drops
    I wish it were ,
    Mother look out side
    It's warplanes and bombs ,
    I am not afraid , let me tell you all
    Of this smoke barrels and rubber coated bullets
    which can harm my body but not my soul,
    The day will come and you will fall 
    Just like others who disobeyed (Him 
    The One who is Alone)
    I will leave this world and you too 
    once and for all
    I will be standing under the Shade of my Lord's Throne 
    What about you ,the one who ignored 
    the basic human role ,
    This is neither a conflict not a war 
    It's my basic human rights that you have taken from me with unjust law,
    I am writing this on behalf of that Palestinian boy who believes that 
    you are only allowed to say there is peace in the World 
    Until there is freedom of basic human rights for All (World). 

  • ofsparklesandwords 21w

    I just saw my home turn to dust,
    Saw the stone pillars that I used to play hide and seek behind,
    Come down, broken, as a machine swung at it
    The machine's sounds, my sisters cries,
    Mama's whispered prayers, Baba's loud shouts,
    All combined, as I stood there confused.

    I looked around,
    I heard my friend, Salah, scream as his room shattered into pieces,
    I remembered the time we fought over a board game in that room,
    I won fair and square, but Salah didn't think so,
    I remember Salah and I refused to play for two days.

    A house came down completely,
    It was a tiny house, but I remember at times when we passed by,
    We could smell the freshly baked smell of Knafeh,
    Somedays it would be the smell of sweet Tamriyeh,
    The lady in there would make them for events in the neighbourhood.

    She was always so gentle and so sweet,
    Sometimes she would give some Knafeh and Tamriyeh to us for free,
    When we used to pass her house when walking back from school,
    But today, she was crying angry tears and being forcefully held by those soldiers,
    She kept saying "Let go of me, stop breaking my house!"

    Even my Baba was saying that,
    Many around were shouting that,
    But no matter how loud our voices were, it went unheard,
    It was as if we do not exist,
    For them, us, our land, our heritage- it never existed.

    They pretend we are the settlers,
    They break our homes,
    But little did they know, that my Sidi's Baba was a doctor,
    Part of my house was his clinic,
    And he used to treat 'their' sick children, in that very front room they just demolished.


  • ofsparklesandwords 21w

    Save Sheikh Jarrah
    Save Silwan
    Save Lifta
    Save Beita

    The 'Save's go on, a new neighbourhood is added to the list,
    More families displaced, more children traumatised,
    People have to demolish their homes, a place of infinite memories
    Whose walls hold memories of their ancestors long gone.

    Rubber bullets, constant arrests, being treated less than a human
    These are the norm,
    Generations of people don't know how it feels like to sleep peacefully
    To never worry about losing your heritage.

    They hold on tightly to the threads of their heritage,
    They hold on to their identity, to their culture
    Which they are said does not exist,
    But then how come Palestine was a known name in the 1900s?

    Despite never knowing what peace truly is
    Despite being greeted by rubber bullets
    The one thing they never lose
    Is their strong belief in Allah and his greatness.


  • mazingamar 23w

    When I Was Born

    If I was born the day you came
    The memories of my father
    His and mine, and the child I left behind
    Could surely not be the same

    Memories of home and land
    Each and every grain of sand
    The grass and field
    An olive branch and its yield

    If I was there in 1948
    I would not welcome you again
    Nor watch you come to my state
    Like the incoming tide of fate

    That was you, then
    Escaping hate with all your weight
    Coming to me by sea
    While I offer you shelter, food and tea

    If I was born today
    I would look at you and say
    There will be a reckoning
    For one day, you will have to pay

    You cannot deny my existence forever
    For the memories of my father
    His and mine, and the child I left behind
    Live on, like fire on a burner

    If I was born after 1948
    From my soul I would be torn
    But on my back, resistance will be worn
    And to it, all my children will be sworn

    So don’t ask me to wait
    Just because you call this fate
    In the end history will judge you
    For every orphan you create

    You see I was born before 1948
    Now I look back and say
    This is where my forefathers lay
    Trust me, my people know the way

    For that child I left behind
    The undying symbol of my resistance
    Has grown on my grass and field
    He lives off my olive branch, and it’s yield


  • ana_vah 24w

    This is written abput the religious intolerance going in the world. I have tried to incorporate Israel India and Myanmar. Being a born again Christian in India this is a topic close to personal reality.

    #wod #farcry #gaza #jerusalem #palestine #kashmir #saffronbrigade #IS #extremism #secularism #persecution #muslim #jewish #christian #minority @mirakee @writersnetwork

    Read More

    A Far Cry from Secularism

    Envisioned in a different light, clouds gather.
    Storm clouds, rise from the north.
    The mighty Himalayas are overshadowed,
    By the height of parochialism.
    Heads bow before gods and godmen,
    Heads bow over guillotines.
    The immolation continues to give rise,
    To forest fires that consume the spirit
    Of hundred and seventeen thousand,
    Three hundred and sixty nine written words,
    That our forefathers idealised.
    The cry of children ring amidst the midst of
    Slogans calling out to man-made gods,
    Who care less about divine creations
    Than the demons in disguise.

    Ghosts of faith linger in derelict churches,
    With shattered stained glass windows
    And blood stained pews.
    The corpses of confessions rot in cemeteries,
    Unguarded by cereberus, overlooked by death.
    The Crocus sativus with its bright green stem,
    Grows like a weed, subject to ample showers of pesticide, covering the bright sky,
    With white fluffy clouds.
    The eastern sky is a bright red with the blood of Rohingyas
    A cyclone brewing in the Bay of Bengal.
    Houses ransacked for fear of hidden idols,
    That fail to make home in decrepit hearts.
    The cherubims extend out their flaming swords,
    For some semblance of protection from
    Ignorance, spread through fanaticism.

    Warm red blood sheds warm red blood.
    Beating heart stops the beating of another.
    Bigotry eats the flesh of brotherhoods,
    As anthems of equality and fraternity eat dust,
    Amidst the ruins of the architectures of antiquity.
    Where then shall we find the hope of a future,
    Preconized in national texts, promulgated in scriptures, proclaimed in folk lore?
    Children run through rivers of blood,
    Stained in the soot of misery,
    For homes are torn by religion,
    Taken over by national identity.
    Man evolves but faith does not,
    Holding on to the dried bones of a father,
    Who has adopted another for the sake of sanity.
    Brothers fight brothers for promises unfulfilled,
    Left unclaimed amidst boasts of propriety.

    Barren home bear witness to baseless genocide.
    Refugees in ancestral lands, Kept on the border of faith,
    Praying hands take up hand grenade.
    Hope dwindles in temples with mosques blaring prayers of peace,
    Understood through distorting lenses of Jihad.
    Paradise made a bargaining chip in a transaction of heaven and hell.
    Fanaticism doesn't come in a particular colour.
    Malala's are not shot for their gender or age,
    But for a voice of reason that must go unheard. 
    Identities get blurred under the fight for labels,
    Religion, ethnicity, race, politics.
    Who we are is buried under layers of prejudice.  
    Who we were born to be, 
    Strangulation, stabbed and skinned by intransigence. 

    The carcass still lies on the road as you bicker.
    The scavengers make a feast of your grievances.
    Death dances a tango with War.
    The greenery turned to a purple mesh
    Of blood and gore.
    When will the violence cease?
    The primate is culled after the fight is over,
    Or subjugated to suffer a life of slavery.
    Woe to the nation that boasts of forbearance.
    Multibillion deities cannot concede the murder for the sake of prejudice.
    Where are you O Jerusalem?
    Why is the Ganges tinged with blood of innocents?
    Waves rise in oceans, earthquakes sound in protest.
    Arise conscience rise.
    Meet the demand of humanity.


  • amanahamdan 24w

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork for choosing my piece to be put as Editor’s Choice in the Popular Section! This is so awesome! I’m truly honored! 🥰
    #refugees #syria #palestine #innocent @writersnetwork @mirakee

    Read More

    I wish my tears did more then just drop down and cause my eyes to water and my face to drip. I wish they spread like water into the mouths of the orphans, quench their thirst, restore their livelihood and their losses, seek justice from those who abandoned them, warm their bodies, fill their hungry tummies, relieve them of their pain, and offer comfort in a world who refuses to acknowledge that we all are human and they to deserve another chance at life.

  • amanahamdan 25w

    From the POV of the Palestinian people.
    #pov #palestine #wod @mirakee @writersnetwork

    Read More

    You abandoned me in 1948.
    You left me homeless, starving, and running for my life.
    You did not care if I was wronged in anyway, but instead nodded in agreement to your delegates of the ethnic cleansing of my people and went on about your day.
    You shouted at me and allowed the invasion of my home- to take possession of my belongings, my culture, my traditions, my food, my identity,...everything I have ever known and left me with nothing but the clothing on my back and my children in my arms.
    I walked bare footed in the hot dessert sand trying to find sanctuary and was pushed all the way to the outskirts of land now known today as Gaza.
    It became an open air prison once you realized where I was and didn’t care if your bombs killed my children and relatives on a daily basis.
    You left us starving, with no lights, very little water and electricity, no movement, no healthcare, and walls that are now twice as tall as the walls of Berlin as my scenery.
    You made the world believe that what you were doing was right and that you were merely defending yourself although deep down we all know that is not true.
    You hid behind the world’s strongest missile defense system, your army of elite forces, and the United States of America as your biggest paying supporter.
    You left me with nothing but the rocks of the land to defend myself and our voices.
    The generations after us grew up with this pain in their heart knowing what happened to their mothers and fathers and their grandparents.
    This cycle still continues till this day and yet nothing can silent the voices of Palestine.


  • ashyels 26w

    "Something Greater" —Ashyels
    Friday, May 28, 2021

    @ashyels @mirakee
    #palestine #peace #humanity #ashyels

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    Something Greater

    Is it hard to imagine
    how they could win
    with stones, fireworks
    and innocent civilians?

    While their enemies
    had everything set up
    with grenades, missiles
    and armored soldiers.

    Nope. It wasn't them
    who won the fight.
    It was Something Greater
    who made it easy for them.

    Friday, May 28, 2021

  • philocalistabella 26w

    War is where the young and stupid are tricked by the old and bitter into killing each other...

  • philocalistabella 27w

    Children play soldier that makes sense ...
    But why do soldiers play children?
    -Karl Kraus

  • fathimagulzar 27w

    For our brothers and sisters of humanity.

    #humanity #palestine #innocentsouls #children #grave #cruelty

    PC: Getty Images #thoughts #poetry #diary #life #love

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    Innocents pay the price for what you wise men choose to destroy, lament and mend. You move on but the graves stay put in their places, marking your cruelty and detachment.

  • missmarigolds 27w

    across the sea
    lies a woman in bed
    she’s only twenty-three
    she dreams of peace
    instead of war
    she hopes her dreams
    will take her far
    she counts the stars
    she counts to three
    the ashes are making it
    so hard for her to see


  • philocalistabella 27w

    If 9/11 deserves a moment of silence then Palestine,Kashmir and Syria deserve us to never speak

  • pragyaverma 27w

    I saw a small boy
    Wide eyed
    Staring at nothing at all
    Not one blink
    Standing yet unconscious
    Unable to process
    The things that just happened..
    In the rubble is his home
    Underneath it, his family
    I saw this boy
    And I have cried in my sleep
    Sometimes nightmares do come true..

  • philocalistabella 27w

    How many ears must one person have before he can hear people cry? And how many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died? And how many years can some people exist before they are allowed to be free? And how many times can a man turn his head and pretend that he just doesn't see? The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind The answer is blowing in the wind.

  • philocalistabella 27w

    An apple fell to the ground and Newton discovered gravity
    So many Palestinians fall today but we didn't discover humanity...

  • philocalistabella 27w

    Israel has the right to defend but are Palestinians given the right to survive?

  • kainatmalik 27w

    In the Somber of shadows
    The dark and lost
    I saw the angel
    Somewhere in between the clouds
    A chocolate in his hand
    Sweet and creamy
    He blew the zephyr
    Before indulging in the dreams
    I recalled the last sight
    Bleeding all along
    Touching my face gently
    Son! All will be fine
    God is with us...
    I want to sleep in her lap
    My eyes are heavy
    But the angel... he is taking me back
    Back to the God...

  • shaakira_kaja 27w

    The courage
    in the eyes Of
    the Children of Palestine
    will write history.
    Inshaa Allah!

  • ramzzzzzz 27w

    You can't keep me quiet.
    You can't steal my voice.

    Read More