Poem Of (Spring of miracles): Part one
Two- thousand eleven is the cruelest year,
Breading hope out of the dead thrones,
Tyranny has end,
Willy-nilly,
Whatever its roots stretched on,
Over days, posterity and decades
Mass public anger must shock,
Cancer of monarchy,
Old-aged crowns,
Overgreat thrones
And power inheritance rocks
That clutched on the neck
Of the whole land wealth.
Reigns of idols,
Shattered peacefully by voices aloud,
Even injured, or being in shrouds,
By bright demonstrations,
Peaceful protests,
Against mankind humiliation.
We still lift slogan of peace,
At hard and ease,
Seeds of freedom must be grown,
On tombs of our corps.
The public left homes, kids,
Closest cronies and jobs,
Against oppression as a mean,
To obtain nobility tops.
Carpeting over public squares ,
For unified goal everywhere,
To topple oppressive regimes, we swear.
Striving to redeem our paradise lost,
Out of those barbarian blind ghosts.
Nations' determination is God's hand,
On an outraged and a mourning land.
Receiving lashes of sunbeams,
fairer than the current regimes,
Sustaining harsh kicks of riff-raff,
Guerillas and oblique secret
mercenary police,
incredible torture we witnessed and seen
receiving shadowy showers of bullets,
shelled out of their anti-life vehicles ,
by our fleshy naked chests,
of many colored spirits;
indeed, heart bravery defeats powerful machines.
Handing up roses of peace,
Brighter smiles and overthroted groanes,
Though we are deceased.
Oh, majestic lords,
Against your blind over faults,
We do revolt.
Even being trapped, slapped,
Maltreated, detained and killed
To heel back from our
Twinkling peaceful track;
Caravan must go on.
Bu Ezizi,
Inspirer of the youth's solutions,
Donated his sacred burnt corp,
As a fuel for Arab revolutions,
Out of his valuable flesh,
He ignited unextinguished spark,
Over the sky of Tunisia,
Unveiling Bin Ali's real mask
Corrupted, suppressive and dark.
Echo reiterated at minarets not allowed,
Even freedom of expression for the crowd,
His Pros are in,
But his cons being forcefully out.
Now, how a pity!
The kicker will be out-kicked,
Once, he fired,
Today, he is in exile,
Alone, melancholic and having heart attack,
The most wanted to stand trial.
Nations' determination is God's hand
On an outraged and a mourning land.
Egypt, the cradle of civilization,
Womb of bright-pure revolution,
Where pharaoh again resurrected
Out of well-born nation.
Leaving huge ones suffered starvation,
Unemployment, corruption overwhelmed
The Landers of the Great Pyramids.
Ship of liberty goes on;
The rudder fixed by auspicious name,
Buzz of uprising; wael Ghunaim,
Mental satellite,
Via twitter and facebook sites,
At a glance, millions are gathering
To retake their robbed rights,
Doves of peace are flying,
to land on the liberty square,
unprecedented herds,
covering incredible distances along,
repeating at chorus the freedom's song;
'Get away' as you stayed too long,
unluckily, trodden on heartlessly,
By heels of death black engines,
Triggered rigidly by blind obedient slaves,
Injured, murdered ,sworded up,
Over the camels' humps ,
Also abducted, tortured, distorted,
Snipped and slaughtered .
Nothing and none can stand
Before overflowing flood;
Caravan must go on.
Fridays followed Fridays
melt the dreams,
Vaporizing the hopes
Of those paralyzed thrones,
Egyptians kneeled down Fridays
As scared nightmares,
For Mubarak and his closest dares,
Still in holes, kept and hidden
Neither comfort nor fresh air.
Nations' determination is God's hand
On an outraged and a mourning land.
Then, how a pity!
Second pharaoh lying down,
On a wretched casket beyond
Prison bars curse.
Mask of luxury is now unveiled
since wrinkles furrowed deeply on
his faint face .
Justice knows no mercy
on the its fair couple scales.
on an old-aged white beard land,
on a well-known memorial sand,
upon Omer Al Mukhtar's tomb;
kudos of liberty" victorious or being dead"
Death leads to uplift.
Echo of freedom has ears,
Throughout Libya ,
Where imbecile'ONE',
Peculiar persona,
As if nation of jinn
Nested on 'HIS' mind,
Republic Monarchy ,
Ruling of 'ONESS',
Abnormal 'LORD',
Perching on land's black gold,
Only for 'HIS OWN' and 'HIS' shell.
No law humped upon
'His GREEN BOOK' law
No one can transcend
Over 'His sharp 'LOOK'.
Greatness is a disease ,
Deity of 'MAN',
The falcons do revolt,
Against such dictatorial deity,
Croaking of war is nearby,
Snapshots of blood shedding,
Innocent fair rapped,
Underneath, voices of queued graves.
Brutal raids,
Fragments of burnt bones,
Stained corps,
Are only what remained.
While 'His HIGHNESS' ridden on tuk-tuk,
Don Quixote ,
Played a chess game?!
The world is astound looking at,
Whether he is a human or grain field rat!
Heartbreaking scenes,
Dozens violently abused and detained,
Kept within overheating vans,
Escaping to drink their urine,
That's why the lions do revolt,
Marching forward, deploying over,
Capturing those mercenary rats,
Combing over; house to house,
Alley to alley, lane to lane,
Till they captured Gadhafi,
In his hidden narrow round dirty hole,
Taken mercilessly and gripped,
Off his headback,
Slapped, shot, stabbed
severely stained,
" Oh, my sons, I'm as your Dad,
Mercy, Mercy", he appealed,
As you did, you should be done by,
Haven't you slaughtered Mercy
Before the toes of your 'MEGALOMANIA'
Overgreatness is a passing cloud.
Now, leader of the leaders,
Lord of the African lords,
Under the revolts' claws.
Black sheet of tyranny
Had been enrolled.
Nations' determination is God's hand
On an outraged and a mourning land.
22/10/2011
Acram Mothana Haider
Ibb city, yemenpioneer@yahoo.com
Tel; 777424347
