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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 | |

Coup

This country United 
one can clearly see 
only blind hide in truth 

Illegally a government seizes power 
against the vote with a clear strike 
Overthrowing moral grounds 

At which point do we say enough 
Their soul aim to enforce ill will
against good standing people 

It's a mutiny against freedom of choice 
using it to kill babies 
Exploiting our democracy fact 

You bloodless hounds without spines 
are only in it for the money 
Crawling vermin hidden underneath the table

Fighting for scraps sick agendas 
I am a son of David from the clans of ulster
As state assets are freely given away 

Without consent their should be a public outcry 
Democratic Republic sits on the right side 
All the left wing who will hang this nation 

Out to dry as they rob ores 
from underneath our feets destroying our land
with your greed creating poverty 

Selling away our basic rights and commodities
sick reality without virtues 
To gain their thirty pieces

We need to stand and defend our constitution 
for our children's sake and their dowry 
As they sign the pact 

One which will weight 
heavy on their souls as we are raped
continuesly of our sovereignty 

Human rights ignored for no good reason 
enough is enough I have a voice 
any laws passed by this circus 

Undemocraticly elected government 
Is not backed or passed by the peoples choice
this needs to be called into order as a state 

Crisis of emergency by the judges 
They who stand for truth to address
Should judge according to the law laid down

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016

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

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

ODE TO MRS OBAMA

Our first image of a gorgeous black Aphrodite
To inhabit the halls of power with charm,
Mrs. Obama moves over the sacred fields deftly
Reclaiming the realm with femininine form.
Sensuously challenging those who dare deny
Her right to bare her bronze sun-kissed skin
As the queen in a staid pallid white world,
She assumes her role with no hint of giving in.

A worthy image of beauty to accompany a giant of a man,
Mrs. Obama came riding eastward her sword at her side.
She planned for an agenda about change most would scorn,
As a product of northern honing oil and heartland pride.
And she feared not the hard and awful destiny ahead
For a beautiful black woman in a loveless town;
As she brought her fashion for elegance and flair,
Allowing a gawking world to see her face was brown.

As a Capricorn, Mrs. O keeps her keen focus on success,
Never surrendering to impatience, doubt or hesitation.
Her aim is narrow and exact, skillfully chosen
And moored on a carefully thought out foundation.
So doing she has inspired black women to reach higher
And see themselves as lovely creatures of great worth,
Endowed by God to motivate, teach, feed and entertain,  
With her nurturing, an emerging color diverse earth.
 
 

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2013

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? 

Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode | |

Death of a Legend

You’ve heard of eeny meanie
How he died a fitting death
He had more fame, it seems to me
Than Shakespeare or Macbeth

Held accountable he was
After capture and a bounty
For the sins Stephen Duncan
Boss of Issaquena County

Too bad for mister miney mo
He’ll have to pay the price
Out to the Mississippi Bridge
We’d love to hang him twice

Held to dangle by the toe
So that everyone would know
Said the slaven to the hangman
If he hollers let him go
Copyright © Mike Martin 2015

Copyright © Mike Martin | Year Posted 2015

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. 

Copyright © zamir osorov | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

Hippo From The East

The giant of the east, a thorn in the most prosperous continent possessing land so massive which is second to none having each day measured in nine different scales and twelve large waters in full interaction with its borders Its pride feeds on most of European and global superlatives is it from the stores of fresh water or the preservation of the wild plant communities? Is it its rich deposits piled beneath the Earth or its sized capital of huge significance to Europe? This historic nation prides in them all and even more But then, the limbs of its diplomacy are incomplete in such regard, important allies are difficult to come by no room for adjustments- it must be what it wants Georgia and Ukraine’s tears then becoming the pay for its domineering spirit Though not adequately reverenced by the inhabitants of the jungle a hippo still remains more dangerous than the lion well ranked among the frontiers of global authority but a major 21st century bully even in this time of civilization

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode | |

Untitled #237 / Or

Or is he heartless?

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode | |

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


America…
wet behind the ears
our boys
soldiers screwed beyond their years

healthy “Kens”
displaced from their “Barbies and Babies”
KILL ‘EM ALL!
programmed to forget 
about what ifs 
ands
or maybes

SEEK AND DESTROY!
when deployed, "Boy go!"

Erase your youth 
Ken
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

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

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Myself

I make the regulations,
I do the violations;
I have the right to commit crime,
I promise there won't be any sunshine;
Fools are those who follow equality,
There's no existence of sovereignity;
Making currency is the only motive,
I am the bear snatching honey from bee hive;
Don't compare myself with evils;
I am in myself the biggest devil;
Everything before me is an irrelevant issue,
Will sit in the top,just need some glue;
Citizens of India you have to remain under my feet,
You will be awarded harsh punishment,if you cheat;
Still confused to get my identification,
I came to Earth to give the criminals motivation;
Do ask me question,who am I?
I am the POLITICIAN of this nation.

Copyright © Prateek Tripathi | Year Posted 2015

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.

Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2015

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 –
Alive!
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 
Stops
At his grave

Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode | |

Trump is The Champ

Bernie Sanders was our reigning
champion but lost—despite wildly
enthusiastic support for him—
to Hillary, the Amazon warrior
queen, succumbing to her low
blows and dirty tricks in a nasty
title fight he was unprepared for.

He did not even criticize her for
her emails scandal which is but a
smokescreen concealing her sinister
role in the rape of Libya, where Hillary
—acting as the new Roman general
Scipio Africanus—had hired Islamic
jihadists to topple and lynch Hannibal,
the very last Carthaginian leader.
Later, these Islamist thugs and goons
murdered the U.S. proconsul and
his loyal centurions in Benghazi....

The only way to get another
shot at the title is to fight on
the Green Party ticket but Sanders
has not yet agreed to do so.
When will you, Bernie, finally
make up your mind? (Shame
on you for endorsing Hillary!)
His place has now been taken
by a fresh heavyweight title
contender and a New White Hope
—Donny Trump, a prizefighter
from the Atlantic City casinos.

Pound for pound, Trump is the
better fighter. He opposes any
new military adventures and
violent regime change abroad,
preferring to rebuild our crumbling 
economy and bring back lost jobs.
He's no friend of the Wall Street
banksters, the armaments lobby,
or the neocons in Washington D.C.
who intend to ignite a new world
war with both China and Russia....

Trump wants to be friends with Putin
—unlike Hillary, who only wishes to
show that she's got bigger balls
than the Kremlin occupant whom
she calls "the new Adolf Hitler."
Trump vows to destroy ISIS and
al-Nusra—instead of overthrowing 
the secular Damascus government
and replacing it with Islamic jihadists,
or shooting down Russian warplanes
in an insane no-fly zone over Syria.
Trump is no Sanders, but then he
is no crazed warmonger either.

He is the new Julius Caesar
crossing the Rubicon to take on
imperial Rome. Unless Bernie
throws his hat into the boxing
ring, “Bonecrusher” Trump is
our favorite boxer fighting for
the championship title....

Copyright © Ross Vassilev | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode | |

African in Influence, American In Attraction

A tree of three trunks and ten branches which grows particularly the maple leaf and blest with a natural freezer customized by climatic inactivity with a unique symbol of in-habitation in Alert. A global authority in the possession of bitumen, the fortification of Quebec- a stand out in North American glory consumes nature’s tithe in forest cover and a popular wealthy merchandise of underground currencies. It shares the world’s longest meeting point between two lips and so wet with lakes existing in their millions. Then second to none in the strength of tidal currents in the world. while sex sells but prohibited to be bargained or bought. Next to the largest global nation is this land housing hospitable citizens with its warmheartedness centrally preserved in Ottawa. Identifying with the two most politically and economically related languages which are highly significant nation-wide like its consumption of macaroni and cheese. All the same the uniqueness of its influence is set apart; silent is its global contribution but powerful is its international attraction.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Details | Limerick | |

Ode to Bobby Pickett

They did the mash—they did the monster mash
In a field—in a field of trash
Republicans ain’t cool
Stink like a graveyard ghoul
One sick group—that we need to smash
 

Author's note:  The limerick above can be recited to the rhythm of the Pickett hit song. I am supporting Bernie Sanders and hope he picks Elizabeth Warren for a running mate.  The rest are fiends and zombies!  This is not a joke.

Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

Ode To Mac

Yet once more again
that same old refrain:
good guy coming fast
then finishing last.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2008

Details | I do not know? | |

ode to the sheep

keep them down,keep them poor,keep them in the dark
sheep,sheep, come follow, foolish sheep you are
you believe we are here to save you,it is all just a joke
but we will be the last to laugh as you drink our poison and choke
drink ,drink you fools,drink to us and die
drink our inflation,eat our deficit, and kiss our bottom line
when it all comes crashing down we will be the first to bail
as you watch your piece of heaven slowly become your hell
follow, follow sheep,please dont think for your selves
genocide is a dirty word but the option is on the shelf
we have been sowing seeds for years now, it is time for us to reap
so get in line you will be just fine, foolish little sheep.

Copyright © ronnie williams | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme | |

An Ode to The Eagle and the Dove

An Ode to The Eagle & The Dove

As I look in Eagles eyes,
As they scan what lies ahead.
He stands a strong guard,
Knowing others have bled,

Many died, doing this,
This standing the guard
The Dove thinks it’s easy
While it’s actually hard.

As I stare at the picture,
Look close at this thing,
Note Dove’s not beside,
But more under, Eagles wing.

Dove’s feet “freely” hold,
The banner to fly,
The red, white, and blue,
With stars to the sky.

But Eagles the one,
Gripping arrows that save,
Both from all comers,
He must always be brave.

It stands, a reminder,
To me, yet today,
When I read in my paper,
What the Doves have to say.

How the Dove wants it all
But not with a price.
They want to leave Liberty.
To the roll of the dice.

They say being strong,
Costs too great a price.
But if you hedge on Freedom
You walk on thin ice. 

Not far back in history,
Would we need to go.
To see Eagles brave strength,
Has made America grow.

To the power that we are,
The world has admired.
The Dove would retreat,
Leave Victory, expired.

What the Dove cannot see
As it looks only to self,
The terrorist wants
Both their heads on a shelf.

It’s easy to talk of fairness,
And all the ways we relate,
Across the war table,
They are filled up with hate.

Our life, is what they want,
There’s no turning them aside,
They will even kill each other
And do it with pride. 

Do Doves really think,
They can reason with others.
Who would threaten their citizens,
With killing their mothers.

It’s gone way too far,
For rational discussion,
Our strength is from Eagles,
With mighty percussion.

Stand watch my dear Eagle,
I’ll gladly pick up my tab.
It’s far better for me,
Than a cold concrete slab.

It’s now up to someone,
Who’s willing to stand.
And tell all the world.
We offer our hand,

In Peace if they will.
But don’t be now miss led.
There’s a stick in the other
To smack on the head.

Any group or bold country
Thinks they want to come on.
We won’t go down easy,
Or dumb like a blonde.

You know what I mean,
Have we lost our grit?
The Eagles our future.
Stop being such twits.

This has gone on too long,
As has this old ode,
But somehow I hope,
History will have showed.

We came to our senses
Just in the nick of time.
To stop all this clamor,
And turned on a dime. 

Starting right now,
Each one should resolve,
To not be the problem,
But help get them solved. 

The ode was written by oldbuck,, 
just after receiving from above  
A wonderfully clear picture of 
The Eagle and The Dove.

Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015

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.


    
 

Copyright © zamir osorov | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

ODE NEDERLANDS CHANT

ODE – NEDERLAND’S CHANT

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!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode | |

YOU WON'T BELIEVE DOT DOT DOT

you won't believe that Donald trump is secretly a slug

you wont believe that once I ate a bug

you wont believe that jesus was actually a bro

you wont believe that finn loves poe

you wont believe that eggs are actually made of glue

you wont believe that the sky is not the colour blue

you wont believe that under all of the laws of aviation a bee should not be able to fly

you don't believe that if you don't comment on this poem...

... I will cry

Copyright © ur mom | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode | |

VICTORY TODAY FOR 32BJ: HOW SWEET THE SOUND

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 
HOW SWEET THE SOUND


Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2010

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

Copyright © Rene'e Braxton | Year Posted 2011

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.

Copyright © chukwuma obiora | Year Posted 2008

Details | I do not know? | |

Ode to a windswept child

16.12.08

Proud windswept child
How shall I not
Look onto thee with fright?
- The Lord has spoken,
Loud and clear -
His will men cannot fight.

The Lord has spoken,
Yes - He said -
"As Sarah thou shall be -
The mother of six millions,
Those perished and decieved."

The Lord had mercy over me -
He sent His Angels forth,
Those strong-winged guardians
With their hard,
Never failing support.

Until the end comes
I shall fear
To speak about their names:

Of Hunger,

Pain,

Of Terror,

Grief,

And of their brother -

Shame.

Oh windswept child,
Thou need not say
What Lord has given thee -
The might of all Jerusalem,
The freedom of the sea...
And blissfully He lets you stand
Before my tearless eyes -
He gives you sheer naivety,
A will to be surprised.

So easily He lets you think
All power is now yours -
But lessons history shall teach
Will show that you were wrong...

Copyright © Domi Marchewka | Year Posted 2009

Details | Concrete | |

Ode to elections and presidents

How do we elect all Presidents?
It is incredibly simplistic.
We go to urns and cast our votes in.
'But why?' I asked myself this question
Incessant multitudes of times; in sorrow.

All politicians, including presidents,
And, by their own admissions later,
In their memoirs and sudden recollections
Are incorrigible occupational fibbers.

We always take what they promulgate
During election’s lengthy process
With hugest grain of salt and still,
At the end of it, we learn it all in books…
Titled the same:

‘I would if I could!
 But I couldn't, so I didn't!’

Copyright © Arthur Zozulya | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC | |

Ode To Everything We Take For Granted

We all know what living is
We all had our lives given to us.
On a silver platter, a road for life mapped out for us,
but we aren't always serious
about the people near and dear to us,
because we're usually delirious about the life we take for granted.

When we have roofs over our heads
and sheets on our bed 
then how come on the streets people
are frozen with defeat and have to compete for some food.

How can we watch people's lives fall when they stand against a wall with a sign?
No use at all, praying to god as their pride crumbles.

We watch them stumble with their heads down low and nowhere to go and I think,
Where is the kindness planted?
Why do we take our lives for granted?

How could we stoop so low while we live in houses they have nowhere to go
- couldn't we lend them something...
Oh no, one person could make a difference if they spoke out loud
show their faces to the crowd.
A difference could be made
all of us could be of aid.

So dear reader I hope you see
the message that coming from me
and as I've gone on and almost ranted
Why do we take our lives for granted?!

Copyright © Ella Marley | Year Posted 2008

Details | Verse | |

Ode to extra-rodent

O, yes, he is exclusively competent
as the national leader
that tightly compatible and coherent
with his time and national traditions. 
He had done all for  the rise our stupid ambition 
and blind glory, post-soviet  and post-tsarists illusions 
as the perfect relict from past and wild centuries 
when cruelty and mercilessness  had been justified
for the price of surviving  the  nation.   

Yes, he was merely anachronism and pure extra-rodent, 
but also the perfect master of alienating 
and usurping all our national richness and rights -
he just took all this things from us
transforming himself for the strong geopolitical figure
and enslaved  our fragile  society 
quenching processes of democratizations deliberately  
for the personal influence and welfare.

He was not just the most atavistical president, 
previously completely unknown
as one faceless agent from intelligent services
he was exclusively competent
as the politic-relict from past centuries
as genius of  that retrograde power and glare.

Copyright © zamir osorov | Year Posted 2014

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

Copyright © Amy Rowsell | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Ode for the Holiday Season

Christmas and Chanukah  fall on the same day 
this year 
This must be a sign of something 
I don't know what 
The years roll by like a mighty stream 
Dissolving everything in their path 
The bards of old spoke of a future we can believe in 
Perhaps that is on the horizon 
Though it doesn't seem that way at the moment 
Our land is in turmoil 
What is going to happen? 
All poetry is not political 
And you can be damn sure 
All politics is not poetic

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2016