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Ode Political Poems | Ode Poems About Political

These Ode Political poems are examples of Ode poems about Political. These are the best examples of Ode Political poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode | |

Wilderness In The Rainforest

It is a tree of five hundred one and twenty different fruits with nine others totally disenfranchised in a garden of more than a colour of grapes a black bunch out of every five same is its numerical contribution in such defined location A flowing stream, originating from the Nok aboriginals has created different hundreds of tributaries in its inland is a town where fertility is ambidextrous and the most diversified of the colourful flying beauties is found within its territory A family possessing envious wealth but seemingly a myth b’cos of the Mephistophelian deeds of its guardians its house, built on land where toothpick germinates to a monstrous tree and man power capable of producing half a continent of sky scrapers yet six out of every ten of its members are less comfortable than a pet in the west

Details | Ode | |

Yes, The Star-Spangled Banner Still Waves

Francis Scott Key: 
“O say, does that Star - Spangled Banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

The Answer:

Yes, Mr. Key, the Star - Spangled Banner still waves
Over that magical land expansive oceans away.
True, its residents are as free as after McHenry
And have remained foes of the tyranny’s sway.

The banner is no longer half-concealed and half-exposed
But hoisted on the tallest mountains and upon the moon,
And from the eastern portion of the virgin world
The Star - Spangled Banner can be seen by the sage and the loon.

Ask the enemy of the peace and the lover of concord
And they’ll admit the starry banner still dances in the wind,
The Star-Spangled Flag is still the undisputed king
Among the white-complexioned and the dark-skinned.

The mongers of fear and terror will at least admit
That the stripes and the stars still tower higher
Above disease and the despot’s egocentric desire,
And still stirs the abhorrence of the mischievous liar.

The Star-Spangled Banner, Mr. Francis Key,
Remains true to the welcome of the New Colossus.
The huddled masses continue to breathe free
And the torch is still held at the golden door.

The Star-Spangled Banner yet waves
Above the dark-hued placards of knaves,
The shiny stars light the paths of the unfortunate
And the stripes still choke the voice of hate.

The Star - Spangled Banner still waves
Over the maneuvers of those in bloody caves,
And the masters of wizened religious gripes
Still do feel the heat of the gallant stripes.

Oh, Mr. Key, the stars and the stripes do rule the earth
And inspire those that pursue the satisfactions of genuine mirth,
The stripes yet rekindle hope and the stars light the darkest nooks
That hitherto shadowed the shenanigans of megalomaniacal crooks. 

Ask no more, dear Mr. Francis Key,
For that land still belongs to the free,
And the stars and the stripes yet wave
Over that tranquil territory of the brave.

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Death

How nice 
that our lieders could not to live forever.
You just imagine
what happened our world for
if our immortal comrades 
might electing himself
handred and handred times
for presidency.

Only think, dear, 
what happenned around, 
if our national leader
will create innumerous tandems, 
constitutions and rules 
for legitimace eternal presidency,
will printed 
in the memory of generations and generations, 
as a superman and superstar
on the various horses, 
on the countless planes and jets
in the countless submarins, 
on the countless Siberian rivers
with naked proudly torse
in present time
(and naked soul and batress on future retrospect) 
on the spacerships and warships, 
on the fares corner of space, 
with sombrero on head
and without it
on the wing of Saturn, 
as a golden giant stature
in the deserts of Asia, 
and so on, so on
your exellency and your majesty, 
till the completely crackdown
of heaven.
Thank you, my Lord
for sharp limitation
such maddening plays
and replications
from our rulers. 

Details | Ode | |

The sound of democracy falling

What was that sound? 
Who was that man in the funeral shroud? 
Who walked behind the man at the head of the crowd?

Amandla! The man’s fist was raised
Whilst the world showered him with praise

But he has passed now and he is gone
And the silence of his grave
Speaks to no-one. 

His shadow no longer lines the ground
And no trace of his legacy can be found…

A long road to freedom, a long road indeed
At the end of the road, only malice and greed.

Does no-one see, and no-one understand
That the freedom that was sought
By the blood of the distraught
Has come to this, to naught!
As only anarchy was bought…

What was that sound?
Liberation bells? 
As the father shouts and the infant yells? 

What was that sound? 
Was it a widow, crying for loss?
As her husband’s blood
Was traded for dross? 
What was that sound? 

Details | Ode | |

Untitled #237 / Or

Or is he heartless?

Details | Ode | |

Military Veteran Lamentations -Our Boys, V-Day 11-11-11

wet behind the ears
our boys
soldiers screwed beyond their years

healthy “Kens”
displaced from their “Barbies and Babies”
programmed to forget 
about what ifs 
or maybes

when deployed, "Boy go!"

Erase your youth 
now you’re real damn men!
geddem’ G.I. JOE!

the present is your rifle
so don’t blink about the past
enemies are better dead
so spray them AK’s fast

now Private
grab the phone and tell your Mom
you’re comin’ home insane (or in a box)
like our boys in Vietnam!

Details | Ode | |

Mandela's grave

Remember ninety-five
When we felt free
We felt alive
We hugged and kissed
Rejoiced in freedom
Rejoiced and sung
Songs of freedom

Mandela walked 
As skeptics talked
But he walked on high
And touched the sky

He loved and he gave
The spirit of the brave
He forgave and reconciled
A sad and battered child

He gave us hope
He gave us life
He freed us from our thoughts of strife

He crossed the divide
Of crossword puzzle blocks
And gave us the clues
-	We threw down our rocks

But here we are now
Tectonic plates crash on our brow
Where is the hope gone?
Where is the future that we had won? 
As we slipped from meritocracy
To simple mediocrity
We look around
And all we found
Was our hopes dashed
Dashed to the ground

Our children suffer, forlorned 
Whilst louts with shovels shovel the gold
Of our future that was pawned 
For the few our future was sold

And as the fat asses
Roam around in masses
Eating the hay that was made when the sun still shone
Eating the food that the cattle had won

But brayingly they still prance around
Relishing in their new wealth found
As the baby dies hungry and cold
And the baby is buried in hallowed ground

Remember back in ninety-five
When we all felt thrilled –
Remember the victory songs
Of how we would right the wrongs
But now we wrong the right
As for gold and wealth we fuss and fight

And in his cold and lonely grave
Mandela turns
And weeps
As his long road 
At his grave

Details | Ode | |



Dutch greetings we say…
          Dutch greetings we say,
                 in the land of Friesland today.
                       Welcome all!
                            Home is our joy.
                            Logical people and not emotional we are.
                                      Expressive are our thoughts.
                                                Call us opinionates, if you want.
                                                           Dutch greetings we say to all!

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Yanukovich, the president of Ukraine

Want living in free Ukraine?
Show the strongest intention for that.
From long stretched gloomy past
to the  brilliant future merciless cast 
your half stoned country and nation.

Go ahead without stoppages and setbacks,
even if Putin gave you 20 billion backs
for returning back
in resurrecting USSR.

Go ahead, mister Yanukovich
in EuroUnion, not be crazy,
run away from dying areas
where reigned guilty comrades, thieves,
cleptocrats and robbers in power and legitimacy.

But criminals and their strong lieder
have own  laws,
means and  measures  for the pressure
much more strong
compare with European asking and rules
on the doubting members and satellites,
who want go away from control
to freedom and independence.

It’s not a simple task, 
to quench with  the guilty past,
if you cannot for future
you half rotten country and criminals live and presidency
merciless cast,
unleashed all previous ties and lings.

Go ahead, mister Yanukovich, 
and you shall have save 
together with Ukraine  
the Russian Federation
so jealous now
for your country and its choice,
from trap of dictatorship and stagnation.


Details | Ode | |


It was time for the New York Residential Division contract to be renewed
but the Realty Advisory Board desired the members to get screwed
that wanted the members to give some of their benefits back
but 32BJ leadership stayed focus and on track

so on and on and on the bargaining talks did go
but the union refused to have any give backs nor accept the word no
we don't bend over, we don't back up and we sure as hell don't back down
our President Michael Fishman and his team stood their ground

it came down to the wire and neither side would concede or give in
until we had a rally with 10,000 plus members and called on our political friends
and at the midnight hour the new agreement went into effect
32BJ's leadership got the members exactly what they'd expect

they kept all 10 of their contractual sick days
and no percentage of their healthcare do they have to pay
they will get a raise in all four of the contract's years
and there will be no hiring system on a level that is two-tiered

VICTORY for 32BJ the union that never backs down
VICTORY for the New York Residential Division 

Details | Ode | |

Sons and Daughters Our Troops

Sons and Daughters
Over there
Sons and Daughters
Dying there
Sons and Daughters
We want them here
Sons and Daughters
They are all our 
Sons and Daughters

Details | Ode | |

The hunter has been hunted

The nation is thrown into grief.
Our national flag is flying at half mast.
Everyone is wearing a sack cloth.
The dangling axe fell on us.
And the mighty has fallen.
Our hearts are filled with dread,
And our eyes as heavy as lead.
Nigeria, Africa’s number one soccer nation, 
Has been given a run for their money by the Ghanaians.
Culminating our early exit from the African nations cup.
The green and white jersey that we adore,
Have been dragged in the mud.
These are not the Eagles we have been celebrating.
Or are these Eagles suffering from bird flu,
That they cannot glide.
Their spirit  was willing but their  flesh were weak.
When we were young, we were strong,
Now we’ve grown but we are weak.
The reputation that took us  years to build,
Have been destroyed over night.
Because we went to fetch water with a basket.
The baby has been thrown away with the baby water.
The Midas touch we used to have have been used on us,
Because we could not strike while the iron was hot.
The hunter has been hunted.
And we have fallen from  frying pan to fire.
Football has kept us together as a nation for many years.
The Ghanaians has put a knife on what kept us together.
And we have fallen apart.
Once beaten, twice shy.
We hide our faces in shame.
No one is to be blamed.
What is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.
Every dog has its own day and it was not our day.
A soldier lives to fight another day.
And never says never because quitters are losers.
The big question is,
Shall our bones rise again?
Or have we withered like the cursed fig tree.
Only the bowel of time will Tell.

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Iraq

you've taken my husband away,
I want him back
our soliders try to help your country
we want you to be like us "free"
your people are causing problems
because they want their lifestyle 
the way of old
some of your people want to be controlled
other people want to be like us, you see
with few laws and otherwise "free"
your country continues violence 
while our country morns in silence
taking away people close to us
your country is causing a lot of fuss
please let the problems go
let our soilders come home,
things will flow,
your country will grow
become a better place 
if you let differences go

Details | Ode | |

Untitled #236 / Buddy Cianci

Buddy Cianci! He’s
the people’s mayor!
“That shark! Haha!
Reminds me of my opponents over the years!”
He dances with the old folks!
He kisses the pig!
He poses with the married couple!
He lets no crack appear in his façade
even on the day his lover of nine years
is married in Barbados!
He is impregnable!