#gaza poets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feral-ballad · 4 months

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[Text ID: “It shall pass, I keep hoping. It shall pass, I keep saying. Sometimes I mean it. Sometimes I don’t. And as Gaza keeps gasping for life, we struggle for it to pass, we have no choice but to fight back and to tell her stories. For Palestine.”]

#free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #gaza #palestinian poets #palestinian writers #🇵🇸#ethnic cleansing #genocide

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hussyknee · 6 months

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Her final tweet on October 8 reads:

“Gaza’s night is dark apart from the glow of rockets, quiet apart from the sound of the bombs, terrifying apart from the comfort of prayer, black apart from the light of the martyrs. Good night, Gaza.”

#i can't stop crying #oh this grief. this endless fathomless grief #rest in power little sister #free palestine #hiba abu nada #i love they used the present tense for her. she IS a novelist and poet and educator and will be as long as her memory endures #save gaza #gaza genocide #palestinian genocide #from the river to the sea 🇵🇸#palestinian poetry #palestinian art #knee of huss

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baby-girl-aaron-dessner · 6 months

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Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish

#palestinian art #it’s so strange to continue life while a genocide is happening right before our eyes #free palestine #Mahmoud Darwish #palestinian genocide #think of others #free gaza #palestine #poetry #palestinian poetry #writers and poets #poem #poems #writing #prose

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thefamiliarstrangers100 · 6 months

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“The war will end. The leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. That girl will wait for her beloved husband. And those children will wait for their heroic father. I don’t know who sold our homeland. But I saw who paid the price.”

— Mahmoud Darwish; Palestinian poet.

#free palestine #free gaza #i stand with palestine #israel is an apartheid state #gazaunderattack #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #poems and poetry #prose #prose poetry #mahmoud darwish #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr

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gobcorend · 4 months

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Enough for Me

Enough for me to die on her earth

Be buried in her

To melt and vanish into her soil

Then sprout forth as a flower

Played with by a child from my country.

Enough for me to remain

In my country's embrace

To be in her close as a handful of dust

A spring of grass

A flower.

-- Fadwa Tuqan

I hope, in these days, to share poems or parts of writings of these wonderful people and that this will also encourage you to read and share poetry or small writings - both of writers and your own -.

WRITING IS ALSO A FORM OF PROTEST!

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mysharona1987 · 5 months

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#refaat alareer #poems #palestine #israel #writing #books #creative writing #gaza strip #gaza #democrats #republicans #politics #joe biden #poets

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thenewgothictwice · 29 days

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Eman Ouda, posted in Gaza Poets Society, April 3 2024.

#eman ouda #gaza poets society #palestine #gaza #free palestine #palestinian poetry #gaza genocide

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myownpanicroom · 21 days

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ATTENTION

If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)

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lord-save-me · 24 days

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One thing about Joe alwyn that, doesn't matter if you hate him or not, deserves recognition is that he'll always use the fact people are watching him to bring awareness.

Taylor's first birthday since the breakup? Posts about Palestine

Taylor just made a bunch of playlists especially light trashing him? Again posting about important issues.

He knows when people care enough to check his page and he'll use it to bring awareness, something Taylor Swift would never

#taylor swift #joe alwyn #lover taylor swift #reputation taylor swift #folklore #evermore #midnights #the tortured poets department #ttpd #palestine #swifties #swifties hate on him but love miss 'I want to bring awareness'#gaza #has taylor signed the ceasefire?

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tendermimi · 6 months

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— Mahmoud Darwish, I Belong There

#mahmoud darwish #palestine #palestinian poet #arabic poetry #free palestine #gaza #poetry #poem #writings #excerpts #words #decolonisation #فلسطين

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 4 months

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Omar Sakr has been tweeting poems in solidarity with Palestine these past few months, and every single one has broken my heart

#palestine #poets for palestine #islam #genocide #gaza

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baby-girl-aaron-dessner · 5 months

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Palestinian poet, Refaat Alareer

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azeemarahman · 26 days

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It is the first night of Ramadan. Ali makes the same journey that he has for the past 22 years. He walks down the same streets, once filled with the night sounds of children laughing and women chatting, the scent of coffee wafting from cafes that stay open for suhoor, the sight of streetlights and dainty lamps and scattered stars, the feeling of moving along with the hustle and bustle of men rushing towards the call of the adhan. The same streets are now eerily silent, whispers of du’a barely audible, no sound of women or children, not enough men to form a crowd, no electricity to fuel the lights, the cafes and buildings crumbled to rubble and dust, the graveyard of a city that once came to life at night.

Ali prays Tarawih on the ruins of the mosque he grew up in.

It is the fifth night of Ramadan. Ali thinks back to the time he first entered this mosque. At four years old, he walked through the doors, his excitement contained within four stone walls. Rays of sun bounced off of tall windows, casting light onto Ali, running around in circles as his father prayed Asr. Ali remembers climbing onto his father’s back as he went down into sujood; he remembers his father putting his head down slower the second time; he remembers standing in front of his father, poking his head and waiting for him to finish; he remembers his father smiling at him and taking Ali into his arms as he completed his du’a; he remembers his father blowing the barakah of his du’as into his hands and blanketing Ali in that same barakah. He remembers his laughter as he did the same back to his father. He remembers the laughter of the other children ringing through the mosque’s four walls.

There are no longer walls to contain the sound, no longer children with any laughter.

It is the 12th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 15, in a circle of his friends as they learned the Qur’an. He remembers the giggles and whispers that passed when the teacher’s head was down. He remembers his cheeks flushing as the teacher caught him talking to his friends. He remembers every mistake he made when he first recited Surah Mulk by memory. He remembers his teacher’s sigh when he gave the same lecture for the hundredth time that day. He remembers seeing his teacher smile for the first time when he recited the Surah with no mistakes.

Ali attended the Janazah prayer of his teacher in this very mosque only three Ramadan’s ago.

It is the 14th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being only 21 when he had his Nikkah. He remembers his cousin sisters decorating the entrance of the mosque. He remembers his mother cooking enough to feed an entire masjid full of worshippers. He remembers his father sitting him down and lecturing him on the responsibilities to come. He remembers the laugh that came after as he told him the blessings that were to follow. Ali remembers the smile that broke as his father told him how proud he was of him. He remembers his father blowing the breath of his du’as on him once more, just like the day he first entered the mosque. He remembers Fatima entering the mosque and thinking they were destined for one another, right down to their names. He remembers lifting her veil the moment they were officially wedded. He remembers their first hug, shy and small and sweet; he remembers wrapping his thobe around her; he remembers the first Salah he led her in and taking her by the hand to lead her out of the mosque, together this time.

Fatima hasn’t entered the mosque since she witnessed her sister being shot on the musallah that their mum gifted her.

It is the 17th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 23, rushing into the mosque with a smile just before Isha, exclaiming how Fatima had blessed him with a daughter. He remembers that despite the ongoing attacks, the hugs and smiles and tears and du’as were abundant among the brothers he prayed beside. He remembers looking forward to the day he could bring his daughter into the mosque and she could climb on his back the same way Ali used to climb on his father’s.

Ali’s daughter went missing from the mosque only two nights ago.

It is the 20th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 24 and opening his fast with his brother-in-law beside him. He remembers not having much for iftar, but at least having enough dates and bread to feed all of the worshippers that day.

The worshippers lessen as the genocide continues, and yet there is not enough bread to go around.

It is the 27th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 25, watching and being part of all the brothers immersed in their prayers and du’as during what may have been Laylatul Qadr. He remembers brothers praying for safe returns, for the healing of loved ones, for the protection of their Lord.

Ali was reluctant to lift his head from the rubble as he prayed for his daughter to come home.

It is Eid day. Ali enters the mosque to pray Eid Salah. He remembers how Ramadan always passes in the blink of an eye. He contemplates the first Ramadan he spent praying on the ruins of his local mosque instead of within its four walls. He ruminates over how the worshippers lessened and lessened from that first night of Tarawih. He remembers attending the Janazah of the ones who were at least blessed enough to be found. He dreads how this Eid prayer will be followed by Janazah prayer, after Janazah prayer, after Janazah prayer.

Ali begs Allah that none of those prayers are reserved for his daughter.

-azeemarahman

*please note this story is fiction.

[Translations:

Ramadan - the month when Muslims fast from the time of the dawn prayer to sunset.

Suhoor - the pre-dawn meal.

Adhan - the call to prayer.

Dư'a - supplication.

Tarawih - Sunnah prayer performed in Ramadan.

Asr - afternoon prayer.

Sujood - an action during prayer whereby the forehead is lowered to the ground.

Barakah - blessings.

Quran - the Holy Book of Islam.

Surah Mulk - 67th chapter of the Qur'an, meaning 'The Sovereignty'.

Surah - a chapter of the Qur'an.

Janazah - funeral.

Nikkah - Islamic marriage ceremony.

Masjid - mosque.

Thobe - traditional garment.

Salah - prayer.

Musallah - prayer mat.

Isha - night prayer.

Iftar - the meal in which Muslims open their fast.

Laylatul Qadr - the Night of Power.

Eid (ul-Fitr) - celebration at the end of Ramadan.]

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gobcorend · 4 months

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Fragments of NOT JUST PASSING - By Hiba Abu Nada (24 June 1991 - 20 October 2023)

Translated by Huda Fakhreddine

Yesterday, a star said

to the little light in my heart,

We are not just transients

passing

Do not die. Beneath this glow

some wanderers go on

walking.

You were first created out of love,

so carry nothing but love

to those who are trembling.

One day, all gardens sprouted

from our names, from what remained

of hearts yearning (...)

O little light in me, don't die,

even if all the galaxies of the world

close in.

O little light in me, say:

Enter my heart in peace.

All of you, come in!

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houseofpurplestars · 4 months

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In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political

I must listen to the birds

and in order to hear the birds

the warplanes must be silent.

– Marwan Makhoul

#marwan makhoul #palestinian art #palestinian poetry #poetry #free gaza #free palestine #i stand with palestine #palestinian poets

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novaaaaaa-writes · 2 months

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watermelons

—a poem for the palestinians

oh people of palestine!

your flag was forbidden

so you waved watermelons instead

because you are red

like the poppies growing on the bank

and the fresh strawberries you grew

and your blood spilled on the concrete

red

like the inside of a watermelon

because you are black

like the silk head scarves you wear

and your embroidered thobes

and the smoke covering the rubble

black

like the seeds of a watermelon

because you are white

like the fabric of your keffiyeh

and risen bread dough

and the shrouds you wrapped your children in

white

like a rind of a watermelon

because you are green

like the fresh olives you grow

and the za’atar you slather on your bread

and the weeds growing in the cracks of the rubble

green

like the skin of a watermelon

oh people of palestine!

your flag was forbidden

so we wave watermelons instead

#poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #gaza #free gaza #palestine #free palestine #ceasefire #writing #nova writes

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