Palestine: A Fragment

The Palestine Chronicle is pleased to feature the work of two poets, Noora AL-Malki (KSA) and Stella Mortazavi (UK).

Palestine: A Fragment

By Noora Al-Malki

Pity, love, hate and fear
Get together on a flowery rear.
The one unto the others did tell
Of horrible stories; visions of hell.
Of Pity’s tale there is much to say
But brethern it suffices to pray
That never one with eyes could see
That lad wide streched beneath a tree.
The skull, so smashed beyond repair,
Holds a couple of balls ‘gaged in a stare.
“Look hard upon him”, Pity cried,
“And you would know what’s real pride.”
Pride of being dead for a cause
For which no one besides you rose.
God bless the soul that still delights
In defying an evil intent to fight.”
Love, immersed in the tell tale passion,
Narrates his story in a curious fashion.
In song-like verse he cried in pain:
“Me thinks the world is going insane.”
On feet he sprang to mimic the mother,
Who lost a trio of decent brothers.
“Ay that breaks the heart of ye and me,
But hers was solid as a tree.
The news to her was a joy suplime

Incured nowhere but in a vanishing dream.
Of visions we rarely did believe
Pooh to us, your pardon I cleave.”
Hate was burning with desire
To trigger their feelings still much higher.
This time he thought it’s more proper
To tell the story of a dirty coper:
“Beholds me a morter a midist the town
On top of which, the dirty clown
Did shake his fist at a lad.
Who niether answered back nor had
Even thought of stirring from
The place he stood in, his tomb.
The morter rode the boy astride
So harsh and powerful was the tide
I’d rather rip that soldier’s heart
I wonder if he has that part!”
Of the horror Fear had seen
He told the rest of a frightful scene.
He dipped his fingers in the soil.
And brought out after a maddening toil
A bunch of little and broken bones
Upon which came a change of tone
“Those, Ay those’re the ribs
Of an infant.” The tightened lips
Upon which parted to declare’,
In a scream of terror “Who did care?
The bullet, being a bullet, went through
It only shivered then turned blue
The little thing did not choose,
In such a way, his life to lose.

– Noora Al-Malki is a lecturer at Women’s College of Education, Department of English, Saudi Arabia. She contributed this poem to



By Stella Mortazavi

They are killing hundreds of people without batting an eye
While the rest of the world stands idly by
In Gaza they’re mourning a child blown up in their bed
Whilst in Israel it seems barely a tear is shed

Where else in the world could this injustice be done
To people who are trapped with nowhere to run
It’s no longer a case of who’s right or who’s wrong
But a case of the weak being attacked by the strong

So with naked aggression the bombs keep falling
Killing babies and’s just appalling
Why do these innocent lives need to be lost
It seems that the objective is not worth the cost

There must be a way to stop this massacre now
We can’t wait for world leaders to figure out how
The UN has no power, or so it would seem
If they had, then surely they would intervene

The power in this world is held by a select few
And they will never listen to me or you
They have their own agendas, disregarding the law
And justify murder by dressing it up as a war

So, how many more people are going to die in vain
And how long can these parents bear the pain
Of  losing the lights of their lives in this way
I fear that there will be a very high price to pay.

– Stella Mortazavi is a poet from the UK. She contributed this poem to

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