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Best America Poems

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Premium Member Poem | 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.

Premium Member Poem | 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

Premium Member Poem | Details | America Poem | |

SLENDER MAN

In the thickets wild a shadow figure moves amongst the
Hollows, a deadly presence of evil penetrates through
The forest, it waits as a predator seeking its prey.
On a woodlands path where children do linger, a ghostly
Presences is drawn by innocence, eerily it moves undetected,
From shade to shadows it chokes the chilly autumn air, with
Malice intentions.
It is a beastly creation, thirsting for the youthful souls of the
Young, an abomination worthy of mankind's disdain, appearing
At its own freakish whim, to snatch the unattended children of
Man, then vanishing without a trace.
In a black suit of death he is so dressed, this urban legend,
Called the slender man, with hypnotic eyes of crimson red,
Yet this devil's kindred is sad to have no face.
Hell's spawned demon, with tentacles for arms, reaches out
Out wardly beyond from darkness keep, dragging limp, lifeless
Small shapes of our off spring unto his dark domain's abyss.
This heckling jackal, laughs at our rage, mocking the weeping
Mother who has heard her child screams, in the approaching dusk's
Falling, but it is too late.
Cry for the little children whom are lost unto him, for salvations
Angels of mercy, dare not even challenge him, for he is evil incarnate,
Pure crimson running into the blackness of death itself.
Oh Rock that cradle dear mother, and let the gentle breeze
Brush across the beloved bundle resting within the cradle of humanity,
Sing your sweet
Songs lullaby, but never shall thee leave it, even for a moment,
Beware thy never know whom may be lingering near by.
Proud father, hold tightly to little Johnny hand, feel his tiny trusting
Eyes as you walk along side that well known path, don't stop to speak
To that stranger behind you, for remember to practice what thy preach,
Stranger Danger.
Where does this slender man come from, and why does he thirst for our
Youthful young, no one knows the answer to these questions, but beware
For he strikes with lightening speed, taking that which is most dear to
Humanity.
Let not that small hand slide away from you, no other warmth can feel
As sweet as that of your children's trusting faith, be ever wary, and hold
Your child close, for in the woodlands an evil awaits and they call him,
The slender man.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Premium Member Poem | Details | America Poem | |

Chocolate Fountain

Chocolate Fountain Abuse- for the lover 

How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate
I wanted 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
How easily I forgot I was 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

~Contest~

Premium Member Poem | 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 ~









          


Premium Member Poem | 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)

Premium Member Poem | Details | America Poem | |

SASSY AND FINE

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
Nectar
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.
__________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 27, 2014!
FORM: TRIPLE ACROSTIC

Premium Member Poem | Details | America Poem | |

King Vlad

King Vlad is anything but Democracy’s man of the hour.
Rather, à coup sûr, he’s really Stalin’s nasty little boy
who ironically parades svoboda and glasnost’
like he really means them—actually he means them not.

King Vlad’s political traditions and pronouncements 
are well-known among those who are sadly aware
of his tapestry of treachery and deceit—oh so slovenly woven
for all to see, just like some of his fellow-gangster favorites:
Lenin, Stalin, Beria, Molotov, Brezhnev, and Andropov.

King Vlad is anything but a real world leader . . .
His kind are an open book for all to see and understand
what they are and what they mean for all who strive
for openness, decency, and real compassion in the
twenty-first century world order.

King Vlad—just like his Dracula name sake,
is a man without a soul, without a conscience,
who shall never shudder, wince or cry
at the piercing death rattle of a Kalashnikov.

King Vlad is truly no friend of Democracy, 
sounding even at times not unlike Hitler;
he’s a demon leader with innocent blood on his hands,
always quick with the old Soviet reply:
Lie . . . Deny . . . Accuse . . . Reject . . . Criticize . . . 
all tools of this redoubtable master of prevarication.

King Vlad should know that the Heavenly Souls 
of flight MH17 know the bitter truth, gor’kaya pravda, 
surrounding his lies, treachery, and deceit—all pejorative 
attributes to a man with the mask of a real monster who 
had the very best Soviet teachers.

And so Generalissimo Stalin . . . 
How do you like your nasty little boy now???
He’s right up your alley, right???

“Putin” has five letters just like “Devil.”

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(August 9, 2014)

Premium Member Poem | Details | America Poem | |

SATANIC VERSES

You feel your body falling in blackness.
You snatch your shoulder to the right.
The nausea stops.
The bottomless pit is hell.
Do not enter the midnight.

Up in the window, stands a coyote.
His teeth are bared in detestation.
He howls his satanic verses.
Abomination is his curse.
Do not confront this animal.

Life fades.
Humankind is mentally dead.
They have goaded the animals with the splicing of human brain.
A dog walks with the persona of man.
Do not speak to him.

In the hollow of a tree with leaves as a covering, lies a wolf.
Her teeth are gleaming as she slyly looks.
She stands and yowls her satanic verses.
Atrocity is her hatred.
Do not attack.

Run as fast as you can.
Satan is on a journey to win.
Shout for the Holy Spirit to enter.
Abhor venerating the regards of our creator.
Do this to be save.

Satanic verses you hear in the howls and yowls of the pacts.
They speak in tongue about your nicks and knacks.
Purloins humankind has become by affronting the world the omnipotent formed.
The great divided is no more.
Satanic verses are the faunas’ voices.
Beware the midnight!
_______________________________
Penned on May 27, 2014!|

Premium Member Poem | Details | America Poem | |

THE AURORA

It is the blazing light show, crossing the northern skies,
Flickering rainbows shining, in radiance's degrees of texture,
Of multi-colored extremes, behold God's palate array, bursting 
Forth on the horizons canvas. 
A shimmering brilliance in motions eloquence, a vaporous mist,
Infused with variations shifting hues of color.
It is the true imagery of magnificence, flashing amongst the heavens
Vast divides, an ever changing masterpiece, created by the hands
Of a divine craftsman. whom lives on the heights beyond our mortal
Experience.
In awe's amazement I sit in wonders after glow, bathed in such
Inspirational emotions, I'm at a loss for words of expression,
What can one say, I'm quite, a hushed to splendors silence.
On the freshly fallen white snow, it's reflective surface
 Illuminates the beauty as rays of waves, that dance in
A waltz of rhythm with nature in tune, so soft a melody
That only angels can truly comprehend it's meaning.
Blessed am I so to witness, God's light show of the eternal
Flame, a woven miracle displayed admist the stars above,
How small do I feel here, in this place so remote,
But would I trade this experience, never will I.
I'll treasure this memory for a life time to come,
And ponder forever the treasure of this moment,
As long as I live.
In this cold enlivenment no shivers of cold can
Touch my soul, for the Lords warmth of inspiration.
Has ignited the poetic heart within me.
Radiant wings from which I pluck the feather's
Quilted pen from, striking the blank page before me,
The black ink, I shall drip, to write this poem
But the words will never capture the beautiful
Images I've seen this night, yet I shall try.
With imaginations help, but mortal am I.
A simple earth bound creature, inspired by
A deities mightier hand.
Humbled before this miracle called the
Aurora.






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