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Call me ..I'll Heed

Call me the olive tree,
or the weeping willow.
In the core of the heart
dwells a deep sorrow.

They've uprooted me,
and left me lifeless.
No one to love or live with,
I am restlessly homeless.

I have nothing to live on
promises are all what I'm fed.
Nothing to drink but,
the blood that they've shed.

Numbness is killing my limbs.
my roots are growing old.
In the UN fridges I'm frozen,
with all the lies that are being told.

This is not however my story.
It is the story of a race
which always fights to live,
and the foe fights to erase.

Yet, call me not the weeping willow
but the OLIVE TREE,
for I'll never surrender or give up
I'll shoot some new roots free.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I know this theme will not appeal to many yet , it is something I wanted to write about a long time ago, It is the story of my Home land, Palestine..
Editing stage: 

Comments

This short piece I wrote a while ago while in Dubai sitting next to a swimming pool watching others at play, and there was a lady who I thought came from Lebanon, this is what came out I suppose it could be from others thoughts and other places.
It must be so hard to have these things happen and feel so helpless:-

Away From Lebanon

Where is your noise, I feel lost in silence
Though the torn people, your people, and my people.
In their eyes dawned a peace that was eternal,
Splashing my thoughts, in this, another land.
Where, I had found this quiet sanctuary.
Away I would scream, in the sanctuaries of my mind
Away let silence be mine, I left you behind.
Screaming buildings, scream as they are torn apart
Only to throw themselves at the ground
Smoking the dust from which they came.
Where child is your mother and father,
That you cry away the hour washing the dust.
The dust of the ages in Varicosed streaks
Clinging to your face with sunken cheeks
I miss you, how I miss you my child.
Broken dreams, amidst all this destruction.
To live with this silence I cannot stand
Forgive me, if only I feel empty in this land.
In this perfect place that you suffer to give me.
.
Hope this is not upsetting to you, it was as I saw it at that time in the late 1990's, Yours With lovely thoughts, Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Ian..It never upsets me to get a fine company like yours ..Thanks for reading my poem
and for sharing yours...

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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author comment

I think this a good poem, you wrote it well and I understand.
How difficult human beings can make life, when it is such
a gift, and so short. Big sigh.

"I am poorly homeless."- perhaps poor and homeless.
Poorly in GB English means sick, but perhaps you meant that?

"promises is all what I'm fed." Promise is all I am fed/promises are all that I'm fed.

...new roots" set them free?

Love Nordic cloud.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Thanks for reading dear Nordic and for the corrections too..

With poorly I wanted to show how it is bad and uneasy to bee homeless , I think that
"restlessly"would work better , what do you think?

Also , I think "shoot" here means produce ,so it works well with the new roots..
Appreciate your valuable suggestions indeed.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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www.instgram.com/rularules1

author comment

What would any onewish more?I am quiet satisfied :-)

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

author comment

Your title intrigued me...but the uneven rhyming threw me off. In some verses you rhymed and others you didn't. All in all, I found it to be a worthwhile read because of the strong feelings expressed within. These lines in paticular touched me:

I have nothing to live on
promises are all what I'm fed.
Nothing to drink but,
the blood that they've shed.

always, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

Thanks for reading and dropping a comment . I know I do very little comments on yours or anyone's else but I promise to come soon and do what I can. Concerning your critic. do you have any suggestions of improvement..
Many thanks in advance..

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

author comment
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