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Thanks brave reporters you that hold for us
The fight for Syrian democracy,
And in great peril roll your cameras
So that the world at large can watch and see
Homs- Syria's dread Zero Ground,
Annihiloation and destruction bound.
The view of horror meets the viewers' eyes
A view that story narrative defies,
A view of suffering,of grief and pain
Does paralize the willing poet's pen.
Horrendous view - So far beyond belief,
Of so much torment sufferig and grief.
This without consolation and support
The world looks on consuming gypsywort.
Shells fly and killer rockets zoom
'Gainst helpless orphans crowded in a room
No food- the government is in control
That has no heart, no conscience and no soul.
New rounds of mortar shells hiss through the night
With Ammunition by Iran supplied.
New rounds of bombs and flying shrapnel bring
Without respite increasing suffering.,
Unfolding horror and new tragedy
Brews behind scenes, but none can run and flee.
Small male-shift sick bay wards are overfilled,
No medicines, the doctors were all killed.
A patient makes faint signals with the eyes,
For help - invain,- than turns around and dies.
The broken shards of erstwhile windows clink.
And bloody rags soak in a kitchen sink.
Two amputated legs in mildew rot
And stink in a deserted city lane.
Its trunk or corpse lies somewhere on a cot
In unattended agonzing pain.
'Homs is the worst' the brave reporters tell
A replica indeed on earth of hell'
Lo! media bards! and poets, you that breath
The air of massacre and slaughtering
Help bring the arch fiend to his knees
And ring the bell, the News Bell ring! ring! ring !
May God Almighty piety Syria,
And many a far-off country's suffering land
That share with Him the pains of Gogatha,
And for their comfort an archangel send.
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