Total Posts:2|Showing Posts:1-2
Jump to topic:

A poem for Sudan

Chimera
Posts: 178
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
6/24/2015 3:38:56 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
Just as an explanation for this work, I wrote this as a dedication to all those harmed by the War in Darfur. This poem is not written for any purpose other than to honor the casualties of the conflict on both sides. This is a politically neutral poem, and will remain so. I placed this into politics due to the fact that the War in Darfur is still ongoing, and has been ongoing for the past 12 years. This poem is meant to spread to show a perspective of the war using poetry, as well as be a means for more discussion about the war in Darfur. As a little more backstory, I have an uncle who was a Green Beret and saw firsthand the genocide in Darfur. He gave me details to add to the imagery of the poem. All depictions of violence in this poem are real accounts confirmed by my uncle. However, just to give you a small idea of how bad the genocide in Darfur is, there are still things my uncle refuses to speak about in regards to the genocide.

Please share your opinion of the war, if you wish, in the thread!

Also, as a novice to poetry :P, I would love for any feedback on my writing style!

Now, without further ado:

Nightfall in Sudan

By: Archam Volker

I remember the starkest shades of fear,
those bright, luminescent shades of brutality.
I remember the Novembers before December.
the Marches before April,
the Marches before May.

I remember the Marches,
one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four.
I remember those fire-staffs,
staving off the crustaceans of the streets.

I remember the bomb-blasts, the flying shrapnel
that bloodied and cut faces,
disfiguring the young and old.

I remember those forgotten children,
made into killers and the killed.
Infants skinned alive
before their mothers, wailing,
crying out for warmth in the frozen desert.
Hung up by their feet onto the sides of huts,
testaments to the death of youth, a symbol of fear
that strikes the darkest spectrum of terror
through innocent minds.

I remember the rapes in droves,
villages made to watch gruesome
spectacles of hate. Men
emasculated, tortured and murdered,
death celebrated as a macabre masterpiece,
hung as a sinister tapestry.

I remember the oceans of blood,
the desert crying red tears of anguish.

I remember those small hovels, those straw huts
burning against the orange backdrop of sunset.

I remember when night fell in Darfur,
and I will never forget.
Chimera
Posts: 178
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
6/24/2015 4:01:45 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 6/24/2015 3:38:56 PM, Chimera wrote:
Just as an explanation for this work, I wrote this as a dedication to all those harmed by the War in Darfur. This poem is not written for any purpose other than to honor the casualties of the conflict on both sides. This is a politically neutral poem, and will remain so. I placed this into politics due to the fact that the War in Darfur is still ongoing, and has been ongoing for the past 12 years. This poem is meant to show a perspective of the war using poetry, as well as be a means for more discussion about the war in Darfur. As a little more backstory, I have an uncle who was a Green Beret and saw firsthand the genocide in Darfur. He gave me details to add to the imagery of the poem. All depictions of violence in this poem are real accounts confirmed by my uncle. However, just to give you a small idea of how bad the genocide in Darfur is, there are still things my uncle refuses to speak about in regards to the genocide.

Please share your opinion of the war, if you wish, in the thread!

Also, as a novice to poetry :P, I would love for any feedback on my writing style!

Now, without further ado:

Nightfall in Sudan

By: Archam Volker

I remember the starkest shades of fear,
those bright, luminescent shades of brutality.
I remember the Novembers before December.
the Marches before April,
the Marches before May.

I remember the Marches,
one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four.
I remember those fire-staffs,
staving off the crustaceans of the streets.

I remember the bomb-blasts, the flying shrapnel
that bloodied and cut faces,
disfiguring the young and old.

I remember those forgotten children,
made into killers and the killed.
Infants skinned alive
before their mothers, wailing,
crying out for warmth in the frozen desert.
Hung up by their feet onto the sides of huts,
testaments to the death of youth, a symbol of fear
that strikes the darkest spectrum of terror
through innocent minds.

I remember the rapes in droves,
villages made to watch gruesome
spectacles of hate. Men
emasculated, tortured and murdered,
death celebrated as a macabre masterpiece,
hung as a sinister tapestry.

I remember the oceans of blood,
the desert crying red tears of anguish.

I remember those small hovels, those straw huts
burning against the orange backdrop of sunset.

I remember when night fell in Darfur,
and I will never forget.

Fixed typo :P