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Best America Poems

Below are the all-time best America poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of america poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New America Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best America poems are below this new poems list.

United States of America by Vassallo, Alfred
America Still Remain Solvent by Horn, James
Un-Welcome to America by Yuhas, Pete
America the beautiful by don, thelast
THE MAGIC OF AMERICA by Ashton, Darryl
Going on Holland America Cruise on Oosterdam by Horn, James
This Is Not America by Ward, Julia
Coming to America Today by Flannery, Vincent
Why America by Gagnon , Karen Ann

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The Best America Poems

Details | America Poem | |

Industrial Nature

Ride the railway, passing the water tower,
Painted production high like a sun flower.
Howls of the engine, hooting as an owl in the night.
Buildings are the trees that come into sight.
Structured stone the jungle, vines the electric cable,
Survival of the fittest, one must be strong and able.
Wildlife runs on rubber, headlights the hunters eyes,
Camouflage the chaos among the concrete lies.
Chemical clouds collect to make shapes in the sour sky,
Blade of helicopters and wings of airplanes birds fly.
The complexity of industry echoes in the acidic air,
Beast hide in plain sight, protection of their lair.
 There is beauty in the broken, birth in the breathless blur.
 When the railway train passes through the industrial nature.

March 23, 2015

Copyright © Casarah Nance

More great poems below...

Details | America Poem | |


Forever will I long for you 
Remembering your love each day
Enabled me to make it through  
Each time I shipped away 
Do not be afraid," I said, 
Oblige me in this task I take
Many people depend on me 
Soldier's love do not forsake

Come to me in the dark of night
And I shall know you believe 
Let me hear your silent prayer
Let your love help me achieve


Copyright © Judy Konos

Details | America Poem | |

Arikara Born

I like many others have lived in our dreams In this world where I lived amongst forests and streams Where the Great Plains stretched and our rivers flowed If you could see through my eyes, how my tribe glowed Born from my mother of Arikara descent My father a Sioux warrior, his stature, augment My growing up was no different than the others around For the learnings that grew from our ancestors surround Hunting and fishing, being told of the dangers in life Cultural indifferences, to fearing tribal strife But it's what my father taught me every single day To learn from our lands for through the years they'd display Tracking, seeking, searching, living from our lands Every year more learned, growing in understand From a boy to a man becoming a warrior through my years Protecting what was ours, allaying modern fears But the changes that we faced, suffocated our souls There was only ever one outcome, other man's goals I like many others, to live and eventually fall Born from Arikara, Sioux, my name was 'Standing Tall' .<*>. A little story from my heart, where the Indigenous will always be.

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | America Poem | |

One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same, 
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.

©2013 Honestly JT

Copyright © Honestly J.T.

Details | America Poem | |

Chocolate Fountain

Chocolate Fountain Abuse- for the lover 

How easily I forget I'm allergic to chocolate
I want to dip the exquisite kosher in a Spanish brandy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

At a store window; a dried up chocolate fantasy goblet
A taste of spoiled milk, nothing dandy with this candy
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate

Snickers Bar, melting under the spotlight for-profit
Not edible, waging unassertive words like a pansy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

Chocolate pop, a candy bar coming out of the closet
There was not much bandy, about this candy
It's easy to forgot I'm allergic to chocolate

Stubby nuts, stomachache, bucket of vomit
Butterflies, flipping when I hear a faucet of cocoa candy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate

Enrobed with small nuts, it dwells under the pocket
Caramel and peanuts American walnut vigilante
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate


Copyright © SKAT A

Details | America Poem | |

9 11

                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 

            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~


Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | America Poem | |

This is not a poem--- A singled out page


Hey, Poets stop by, give me a shout out.
Tell Me Where You Are From;)
I promise I won't show up on your doorstep.

If you are having a bad day, let me have it
If you have awesome news, don't be greedy 
By all means  --- SHARE THE NEWS!!!

.................  LOVE THE POET DESTROYER 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | America Poem | |


Along the mountain pine valley did the Iron Horse roar,
A steam belching black demon, burning red hot coals
Within it's steel belly.
Speed's hell bound creation, driven by greed's insatiable hunger,
Faster, faster it moves at acceleration rush, to
Achieve manifest destiny's final arrival on time.
In the distance hear another lone whistle blow, spitting,
And spewing with brimstone's gray smoke.
This indeed is the devil's train, carrying the forsaken,
To the depot of no return.
With a half empty payload aboard, Satan makes a deadly
Judgment call, stoke up those engines boys, ramming
Speed if you please.
Made man beasts are these mechanical monsters
Of destructions, lethal death weapons, chained
Down to the steel rails, and iron pikes.
Ebony stallion's racing against the winds,
As redden sparks sizzle and bite at the crisp autumn
Air, bellowing fumes poisoning the night.
The engineer of the 10; 15 out of Tombstone,
Checked his pocket watch, speaking impatiently,
He did so yell out, come along fellow's, we have a
Schedule to keep, and we've hours behind in our dead line,
So let’s pick up the pace.
Now the devil's train came out of know where,
With hell's supernatural master at the wheel,
Heckling, and laughing, relishing in the carnage’s
Utter calamity to come.
On a lone chewed up mangled piece of track,
Lies wreckages debris blood, flesh and twisted metal,
Lain stewned for miles beside the wild wilderness.
Broken bones, and sheared off limbs, weeping mother's
Cradling limp, lifeless bodies, crying why, God almighty
But the lord and heavenly father, had nothing to do,
With this unnatural disaster, nay the devil had many
Empty spaces to fill, and his passengers list was lean.
So he leveled the crimson ground with his dark gavel,
Taking souls at high velocities supernatural speed,
For this is the devil's ghost train, and it is so
Hell bound.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | America Poem | |

Lotsa Limericks - It Couldn't be Verse

		1. Big Brother
Big Brother's protecting his mice
with a secret eavesdropping device.
          If you hang up the phone
          he'll send in a drone
when a warrant won't really suffice.

		2. Neutrality
The internet's meant to be free
for all, such as you, such as me.
          But now there's some doubt -
          will it lose all its clout
with the death of neutrality's spree?

		3. Privacy
'twas surely our forefather's dread
all our emails would someday be read.
	Now that push comes to shove
	by the powers above  -
private thoughts must now stay in our head.

		4. Guantanamo 
Guantanamo bay's a resort
where fishing's a fabulous sport -
	with your back on a board
	tepid water is poured
wringing tales for a kangaroo court.

		5. Banks
To bountiful bailouts give thanks
for there's nothing much richer than banks -
	making money galore
	taking homes from the poor
while managing mortgaging pranks.

		6. Health
If you live in the States don't get sick
(lest a cut of the upper class clique).
	If you suddenly fall ill
	all they'll offer's a pill -
if you're lucky you'll surely die quick.

		7. Economy
Our economy's doing just fine
lying dead with a slug in the spine.
	So follow the call
	where there's money for all
and profit's the bottom-most line.

		8. Safety
Now police vigilantism's wide spread -  
but not justice… not even a shred.
	The avengers of right
	are still stalking the night 
so beware of a cap in the head.

Copyright © Terry O'Leary

Details | America Poem | |

Common Man

The traveler reeked of weariness,
His companion was Fatigue
Wear upon his clothes suggest
He'd come a million league.

Gaunt were eyes deep set and brown
Above his cheekbones high
His being was pure somnolence
And I heard his silent cry.

Hard roads had been his travel
The pains chiseled on his face
In lines of furrows on his brow
Permanently enlaced

Around I saw no motion there, then ...
His head began to rise
Finally he looked at me ...
Suffering in his eyes.

So quietly I attended
And with a heavy heart
I wanted so to speak to him ...
But knew not how to start

Within his labored breathing
He then began to speak
His words, when finally spoken
Were truthful and unique

His lips worked to form the words -
Then said; "My name is: Common Man,
I'm a father; I've worked hard;
' always done the best I can.

"The road's become uphill and steep with
Burdens I can't propel
I've tried to move on forward -
But, I stumbled here - and fell.

"There are others on me
Who so do depend
I must move on forward,
This mustn't be my end.

"Now I must reach out to you
'Cause before I've never failed
I'm turning now to you
'Fore on hardships I'm impaled". 

A calloused hand then extended
Toward my outstretched hand
And I want to heed the call
For this Common Man.

But, Greed and Avarice have won
And assistance can't be lent -
Wall Street, you see, owns me now:
I'm Your Government.

Copyright © Jack Clark

Details | America Poem | |




These salted memories tell stories
The oceans and seas gave birth to.

Over the tempestuous waters
Echoes from the bellies of slave ships
Ride the tides of history

Spreading ripples over the shores
Of time proclaiming forgiveness
For lost souls.

We sashay along bleached beaches 
Where white sands mask the shed blood;
And splashing waves drown out
The ghost echoes of rattling chains:

We no longer remember
Our beginnings here.

Copyright © millard lowe

Details | America Poem | |


Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Enchantments cursed beast of purity’s beauty
Trapped within the foam and spray, touching
Almost the land then in sorrow’s undertow
Driven back is this mystical herd of wild
Poseidon’s sacred water horses, surfing
Within the frothy s riptide of mermaid tears,
Clashing their silvery horse shoes, against the
Rocky edges of the under currents tidal surge
These titans of the fathoms deepest depths.
Lightening immortals shimmering, bathing
Translucent beneath the hued blue waves,
The last unicorns beg for release, to run
Freedom trails once more, to feel the
Mountains breezes of liberation flowing
Through their milk white manes again.
But silence is the reply from their capturer,
Unmoved is his trident of power, sitting on
His ivory thrown Poseidon watches these
Wonders of myth, and relishes in their
Spectacular beauty, vowing never to
Set them free, thee belong to me, my
Sacred water steeds of the bluest deep.
Within the seashells hear them weep,
These creatures of the mystical realm,
Crying out, release us please, can thrust,
Not hear us.
Out of the water, to feel mother earth
Beneath our silver hooves, we give our
Horns of crystal power, or the shimmering
Shine that beguiles our under sea father.
Out of the water, we’d roam in the wilderness
Wild, roll amongst the sandy duns of the desert,
Climb the mountain tops heights, and breath
The sweet air of freedom within our lungs.
Out of the water, for just one single day,
We sacrifice all that we are, or were in
Mysticism mystical realm,  just to be free!
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.

Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | America Poem | |


Dismal stars out
Contrite to feelings
The moon glows brightly.
The storm is inside.
Tears form as I cry.

Regret, I don’t.
Have I done wrong?
Here and now stand
Weeping for hope.

Willow tree
Sways in wind
Vision rapt

Hope gales.

 Penned on January 02, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | America Poem | |


In Galilee, his voice was heard.
In Nazareth, he rested his spirit.
Cana is where he was first miraculous.
In Galilee, the crowds were like a flock of sheep.
But his crucifixion in Judea defeated their image.
My beloved Jesus knew his faith.
At the last supper, he told his disciples about his last days.

Oh Lord of greatness
How they hung you on the cross
Arms stretched to the limit
Not mindful (of it) at all.
The people of Galilee embraced your ministry.
In Judea, they crowded to witness your crucifixion.
Your mother cried out but
She knew that you were seeking your crown.
In Heaven, you reside.

You were raised from the dead.
Lord Jesus, you will meet your disciples once again.
Your resurrection was angelical.
An angel appeared to your disciples.
They were informed of your forgoing.
In Galilee, as promised, they would see you once more.

The prophecy of the birth of Christ is destiny that forfeited his life.
Penned March 20, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | America Poem | |


Thick or thin, it is the Friday night order in special,
Supreme or meat lovers delight, whatever toppings
You like it, does not matter for it’s 
The all American favorite, Pizza!!
Roll out that dough, cover it with Italians specialty
Sauce, cheese me to please me, I’ll never get enough,
I’m simply addicted to this deep dish pan delicious stuff.
Cut me no single slice, for more, more, more,
Is the thunderous roar of my mighty hungering’s
Rumbling, within my tummy, for what Pizza!!!
Circled or squared, just roll that pizza cutter of 
Portions pleasure, pick up your slice and allow
That thick cheese to pull apart naturally,
Then bite into Nirvana, for this is heavens
Perfection guaranteed by the slice.
Now the frozen microwave style may work in a pinch,
Delivery or the hot and ready special can satisfy
My personal hunger glitch, for that tasty pizza pie,
As long as can get it, I’m satisfied.
Oh grant me one pleasures sinful command to break
Dearest lord above, to indulge myself, and stuff
Myself with pizza, pizza until I burst, for gluttony is
One distractions fault I have dear father, when it
Comes to this circle food, as it spins on the nightly
Commensals boob tube.
Is it not against the law to hide messages within
Certain text, because I swear these advertisers
Know our fragile human weaknesses, late at night
For  this delectable substance, called what
Pizza, if I haven’t mentioned it enough,
Yummy, yum, yum old chum.
It’s the party hardy mid-night special, on all
Channels of the United States of America,
There is no doubt of this, rock my world
In flavorful old time favorite, dude I’m
With you all the way, especially on a 
Friday night.
This is my declaration of independence
Declared in Italian sauces redden stainy ink,
Give me Pizza or give me death, just kidding
Folks, by the way do you want that last
Pizza slice, I’m not quite full yet, lol.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | America Poem | |

In This Land

                              In This Land

In this land there is a mighty voice that can
sing a mighty song.

Often it is a song of I don’t belong and all sort
of other things that are wrong.

This mighty voice can herald itself in the
grateful praise of being strong.

All while asking what else is to be spawn in a
struggle to do no wrong.

Should it be we shall live in all eternal
knowing wrong being strong.

It is God’s place to be so strong and
to know all wrong.

So it is in praise to him we should knell as we
spawn our grateful song.

There is one more thing in his Love
eternal song

We all belong.

Copyright © John Hardison

Details | America Poem | |

I'm Very Thankful

I’m Very Thankful!
I’m very thankful for everything the Lord has made...
Everything he’s created…  His beauty is displayed!
I’m very thankful for the breath I have to breathe…
Until that one day, from this earth, I shall leave.
I’m very thankful for the way God has made so evident.
The principles of his word…  Are so relevant!
I’m very thankful for the beauty and glory he’s shown…
It has brought blessings and healing to my home!
I’m very thankful for the many things he’s done for me…
He’s given me his love which flows abundantly!
I’m very thankful that each day,..  Is another to live for him…
He’s taken away my pain and has forgiven every sin.
I’m very thankful that I can write
 these words from my heart.
I know that he’s with me.  And he’ll never depart!
I’m very thankful that you’re reading
 what I’ve been saying…
May this cause you to once again start praying!
I pray that this same Jesus I know…
 Who’s merciful and kind…
Will speak words of hope to you
 and give you a peace of mind.
I pray that before you go to bed and this day has ended.
You’ll allow Christ to have your heart “amended.”
Thank you Lord!  For what you’ve
 done and are going to do…
It’s another way that I can say 
Thank you Lord!  For all that I‘ve 
received and so much more…
You’ve made my life complete… 
And are worth living for!
By Jim Pemberton   01/25/11

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | America Poem | |

Where are you Fred Astaire

A man with impeccable charm, sophistication and grace,
Fred Astaire was at once both marvelous and enchanting
As the twentieth century’s greatest dancer and master artist.
He made his sublime dancing (“hoofing”) seem effortless.

Capturing the American spirit with both panache and verve
Fred Astaire glided across some quite wonderful movie sets:
Top Hat (1935), Swing Time (1936), Shall We Dance (1937)
Done magnificently—all harken back to a different America.

This America tho’ more old fashioned was one of “can-do”
And boasted a gutsy bravado even in times great hardship.
Fred Astaire with others was a sturdy star symbol of the then
Greatest Generation that helped bring peace to a war torn world.

Fred Astaire was part of this Greatest Generation entertaining
Packed audiences and dazzling them with steps of joy and perfection.
Tho’ now gone Astaire’s past accomplishments serve as a prologue
For new generations to come and to seize opportunities for greatness.

Where are you Fred Astaire?

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 2, 2014)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | America Poem | |


Sister girl 
African pearl
Such finesse
So much, you have to give.
Yes, you are beautiful!

Are you paying attention to me?
Nile I am.
Dark and handsome man and confident…

For the love of God
In this real world
Never have I 
Ever exploded with deep words of lust!

Sophisticated woman
After thoughts
Savoring your body
Suc-cor your tongue
Young and free!
Affixed to your smile
Depths of passion!

Feel me
Indigo blue
Nice fit on you
Enriched this day!

Such words of desire
Ask you to be a part of my life.
So real to happiness
Seductive I am.
Yearn for me!

Apex to
New elevations for
Deep sensations!

Finding each other is not a sure coincidence.
Inspire by other elements
Nadirs we are not.
Essence we are.

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | America Poem | |



Every town
I mean town or city
Has one
And it aint pretty
There’s this old, red brick building
Nothin on either side 
No place for a dealer or his junky to hide
Hell no!
This wreck’s been boarded-up for years
Everything all round’s been torn down
Once in a while some truck’ll  bump passed
Along a street what’s seen its last 
Pavin when “Toots” Mazzini was gassed
No! This dump is isolated
Few pass by
I’m lookin cause I live in a junk torino nearby
Well, so what?
So. Gottta scratch my head about the damn AD
Freshly painted each year
On side ‘o this pile ‘o old read brick

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin

Details | America Poem | |



The ground shudders, and shakes,
 Under pounding hooves.
 Echoing against canyon walls.
Fast and furious wild hearts beat,
Keeping equal pace, with the prairies,
 Wide divide.
From within hell's fiery furnace,
Tempered muscle drives motions sinew.
Behold evolution's die hard breed,
Built for no other purpose except,
Excessive Speed.
Racing along at razors edge,
Accelerating testing endurance's,
Brute strength.
Mustangs roam god's vast expanse,
 Deserts devils burning blazing trails.
Encounters ghostly figures, dwelling amongst,
 Forbidden territories reservations.
Dust clouds shadow creatures alluding,
 Humanities intensive detection.
Harnessing destiny's forgotten beasts,
 Freedom's native horses challenging,
 Limitless domain.
Blackened pitch melting seamlessly,
 Mixing with hewed grays.
 Heaven's canvas erupts.
Storms rage splits lightening’s,
 Herding horse flesh towards,
Maximum Resolution.
Divine specters haunting thunders,
boarder lands, slick footed range warriors.
 Traveling hidden roads ancient paths.
Natures raw power hardens brutalities
 Rival Arabians fight to prove dominates.
One lone stallion stands, dark bristling mane,
 Brushed by evenings cooling breeze.
The leader takes cliffs highest plateau.
As silences experienced guardian,
 He watches cautiously.
Resting at sunsets twilight hour,
 Quenching thirsts, unyielding desires.
Next to waters crystal streams they ease.
Gently relieving tension's strains
 Beside one another.
Comforts unity beneath reflective,
 Moonlight's softness.
Mares and colts whinny in graduates,
Soon it shall come upon them,
Once more.
Dawn's rays cross horizons palette,
 Under universal skies.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | America Poem | |

What If Christmas Never Came

What If Christmas Never Came??? What if Christmas never happened? What if Christmas never came? Things around here would be different! It wouldn’t be the same! What if the baby Jesus wasn’t born in a manger? Mankind would be in serious trouble and in danger! If Jesus wasn’t born... There’d be no nativity. We wouldn’t be able to display this during our “festivity.” It’s almost like this now! It’s an “ever increasing business.” It seems like nearly everyone wants “Christ out of Christmas!” Why does it seem like Christmas is losing it’s true meaning? The very words; “Merry Christmas,” seem to be quickly disappearing! As many say; “Happy Holiday.” They worry they may “offend.” Having a “holiday” without Christ…. Once again! We need to put Jesus Christ back into our CHRISTmas season! He is what Christmas is about! HE is the very reason! May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior’s birth. May there be shouts of JOY! From the corners of the earth! Let’s not take Christ out of our joyous celebration! We need him so much right now! All over this great nation! May we bring to him a heart of love for everything he’s done. As we bring honor to Christ. God’s precious son! May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise! Not only at Christmas time… But all of our days! By Jim Pemberton 12/05/11

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | America Poem | |

They Call It Wounded Knee

They Call It Wounded Knee 

I came, I saw, I cried;
To the field where they died.
They call it Wounded Knee;
My peoples' history.

Bodies lying, frozen to the ground;
No mourners to be found.
Children still clinging to their mothers;
Laying dead beside their brothers.

The smell of death in the air;
Pools of blood everywhere.
Babies with their heads bashed in;
To waste an army bullet on them would be a sin.

Soldiers surveying their wicked deeds;
Mugging for pictures with the "savage" breed.
Celebrating the slaughter of the Sioux;
Burial is for Christians, but for Indians a mass grave would do.

Sporting medals upon their chest;
Saying that they conquered the west.
Taking the lives of an entire race;
Feeling no remorse or disgrace.

I came, I saw , I cried;
I asked questions of why.
The people of Wounded Knee;
Could not have life and liberty.

The answer was simply said;
"Kill the animals until they're all dead".
"Let my God sort them out";
Land is what it's all about.

The place where the mighty Sioux fell; 
Is a white man's hell.
Once was a place of pride;
The field where they died.

Darlene Doll Smith

Copyright © Darlene Smith

Details | America Poem | |

Private Romeo

Romeo Jaxx had a friend for a fool
So he never thought "Baby's in love."
He fought for his rights
and he slept through your dreams
With his self-centred wolverine paralysed
Drove out of the camp on a bright summer's day
waving last weekend's pass-out goodbye
Phoned Jenny, then Julie, who never complained
Filled his tank, with the world running dry.
Throws off the fatigues now, just too tired to fight,
He will walk to the beat
of another man's drum
sometimes valour's the best part of sin.
With a grin shoves his ring
on the pawnbroker's manicured thumb.
Now this story splits down three parallel lines.
My version, the truth and your lies
You saw him conversing with 12-year-old Jim
in myriad tongues, his back to the wind. 
I found him saluting a girl in Key West,
Where admirals croak and malingerers lie.
We both know he broke each old, weary taboo
Well, salmon will jump
when they're straining to die.
Maybe Romeo Jaxx is of much sterner stuff
And never was swayed from some destiny's path.
Straight as a die
but the die is now cast,
the cast are now blind
and the blind are aghast.
Our Romeo sees that there's no one ahead
don't tell him, there's no one behind.

Copyright © PV Harrington

Details | America Poem | |

Soft Chains - Cold Steel

Soft Chains – Cold Steel

cold steel and darkened hold
bound for destinys untold
asea in darkened misery
a towering flame – laid cold.

unbound in aftermath of strife
adrift in memories of life
fading in the pain of emptiness
the faces of a child, a wife.

dreams, forbidden wants and need
reduced to wooden ploughs and seed
subsistence farming sharing crops
hearts stolen by land owners greed.

time and generations still oppressed
rebellious music of the Afro tressed
fists to signify a races pride
marches to force the past redressed.

movement to the front from buses rear
courage to face oppressors fear
those who dared not lift their eyes
believing the dream one held so dear.

soft chains of manipulations dread
attempting to control a movements head
unable to comprehend the truth
that millions believed the words he said.

nurtured the seeds that he had sown
on freedom’s winds as they were blown
demanding that now must be the time
to face down the clubs and hatred thrown.

sadly the tone of skin and voice
still affect the definition of each choice
succumbing to the psyche of the bonds
re-emerging in an unforgiving noise.

submitted to – Writings in a Black Perspective… - Poetry Contest
sponsor – Verlena S. Walker

Copyright © John lawless