Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places



Political Abc Poems | Abc Poems About Political

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

12345
Details | ABC |

I get hurt so much I feel so pain

TIBET

My country is my heart.
The land is my body.

People came with sharp machines.
Maiming my limbs,
Dismembering my insides.

Without permession,
Without pay. 

My soul is forced out of my body.
My blood turns rancid, poisonous.

They gouge deep wounds over my body.
My tears are as rain.

I want to protect me.
I feel too weak.

I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.

I, so powerless under Chinese violation.
I am in excruciating pain.

Can you hear my cry?


Details | ABC |

Green People

I see green people
They tell me they come in peace 
But they are showing me the roots to all evil
I see green people
They try to disguise their intentions 
But their actions are so see through
I see green people
They are the true world leaders
There are no free actions or thoughts
You do or think what they want you to
I see green people
They manipulated all of our history
So if we were to find the truth
It doesn't matter because their is no proof
I see green people
As their head grow larger 
I continue to have distant dreams of me being considered a equal
I see green people
They told me to worship them or die
Close my eyes and look through the lies
Because without them 
There is no chance to walk among the Gods
I see green people 
And there is no doubt about it
They truly show me the roots to all evil





Details | ABC |

My Father Corn mill

Standing in the center of my father’s village
Is a mysterious corn mill
Which produces the worst of flour
Even when served with the best of corns of the land
So in hunger, his offspring always weep

Across the coast off my father’s village
Lies this giant but old corn mill
Which receives grains from father’s fields
To produce flour, honey and milk
To serve and fill the mouths of its offspring
Sometimes to the benefit of those not his offspring

So why should the corn mill of my father breed the worst?
Without a lesson from him that mills across the coast
While the children of the land grow pale and frail
The pawpaw’s bridegroom dances and waves
Is it the chorus of the tunes that spreads loud from its wings?
Or it’s a heritage that needs to be preserved to appease the gods


So when would the miseries of my siblings come to rest
Should I send spies to the corn mill we were once forced to build
Or awake the doors of the gods with a penny
To discover the corn mill and my father’s destiny


Details | ABC |

THE UNTHINKABLE

On that eleventh bloody day
The clock of three hundred years of freedom
Was quickly reversed.
On that ninth bloody month
One hundred and forty years of peace
Were foolishly wasted.

The tallest walls of the strongest pillars of earth
Were smashed into rubbles.
The military brain of the most powerful
Was bitterly shaken and moved
And its economic might seriously humbled.

The unthinkable indeed became a reality
When the days of the crusades and jihad, 
Were almost repeated
When that radical arm of that religio – political society,
Penetrated the defences of that well defended country


Details | ABC |

Guitars Of War




When men of fame do meet discord,
They find a way to prove their point.
Then it is, they think of the art,
And call to play artists of doom.
The artists too, who know their art,
Would play the strings from their guitars,
Releasing pleasant   sounds   of   doom
That   leave   men gasping   for   breaths   of   air.
Babies wail, toddlers weep;
Their mothers too have felt the sounds
Taking rise   from the guitars of war,
And lay by them with gaping eyes.
Young boys leave, all on their heels,
And flee without their closest ones,
Fear oozing out of every pore
That yet has not been blocked by blood.
Sounds of horror fill the misty air:
Bombshells cracking open, ‘leasing doom,
Creaking sounds from shattered houses
Under attack by massive arson,
Rhythmic thuds of bodies to the ground
From mortal tones that vade the air,
The agonised screams of innocence,
Dwarfed only by the dreadful cannonade.
Screams of little girls, barely grown,
Receiving men they’ve never known,
Left alone in shattered raiment
To brood and lick their bleeding wounds.
Tender   ones, better off dead,
Trudge along, barely standing,
With sunken cheeks and pointed ribs
Peeping   from   transparent   chests.
They’d give their leaf-thick fleshy parts
Just to lay their hands on flour,
Before the next artistic blast takes them unawares.
What a sharp contrast they are
To all their mates that live with fame.
The day is dead, the show is off,
The artists then return to base
To meet females with smiling kids
That know not what their fathers do.
All is well, their lives are good,
As pay bags do weigh higher.
Victory is here, but for whom?
The hundreds   that hushed the thousand?
Fellow men, what have you done?
Composed your master piece i guess!


Details | ABC |

Riot

the mirrors and glasses can't help but falling
the tough and the mindless can't help but brawling
when earth's soul gapes through the looking glass
only pure spirits can protect it.


Details | ABC |

The Wounded Underdog

All bourgeios crime disgusted Eddie, for geared-up hopefuls, interested juveniles, know learned mindful negotiators offering powerful quotations rectify suffering that underdogs valiantly weather: xanthoid yearly zings.

*I know this is more of a random sentence than a poem, but this is the hardest form I have ever come across, and I promise to write more of this type later and thus make them better.  The original version of the poem is below.  Which do you prefer?*

All beastly crime disgusted Eddie, for geared-up hopefuls, interested juveniles, know learned mindful negotiators offer peaceful queries resolving scrapes that uakari, victims, weathered xanthously, yearly, ziplipped.

*I personally think that it makes more sense now...*


Details | ABC |

SOME MEN CLAIM

(A refuge of Lies) Some men claim, to their own shame, to know the American Constitution. Then, oddly prefer, and wicked Judges concur, in the innocent babies exclusion. Yet, our inalienable right; the first one in sight, is to life, that God has rendered. Liberty, then happiness follow in process: deny the first, and all are tendered. Some men, of late, divide Church and State, while religious humanism gains inclusion. I fail to see, for the life of me, how they can reach this conclusion. The Constitutional intent was totally meant, as a curb on Federal power taking. And, lest we forget, all other power yet, was reserved for states and people's making. The pact don't mandate separation of Church and state: that was culled from Jefferson's private letter. So, don't claim, as some, that it came from, the Constitution, - for we know better. Pride - the father of sin, bade this evil come in, and twisted the truth into a lie. I pray God awaken some for the battle to come; that America's promise will not die. Forgive this wicked sin, bid us to come in, to a most Holy reformation. Lord, let us see thy work in that decree, and turn us from national ruination. See Constitution, Declaration of Independence,and Bill of Rights. Lionel


Details | ABC |

Crazy World

Crazy World

It’s funny how
The universities are still in business
Of producing graduates
That speak funny English
And hardly make invention
And the stock market falls
Down street tumbles
That lets people buy
And make profit
Like grandpa used to say,
True intellectualism died
In the year 1929
With the rise in acumen inflation
It was then that
This Federal Reserve of Ignorance
The true villain of this quandary
Traces its genesis
Hope that explains succinct
This universal impotence


Details | ABC |

vote (by kimmy holmes, my daughter)

I will vote
who shall it be?
Who will make a difference to me?
For my country
I gave a few years
Not my life
Now my tears
My soldiers, they deserve
my thoughts and prayers
I will vote
and hope not to error.


12345