You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...
PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker
on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads
while keeping your ad blocker active. Thank you!
Sestina Political Poems | Sestina Poems About Political
These Sestina Political poems are examples of Sestina poems about Political. These are the best examples of Sestina Political poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.
Everyone has to stand
Either side of the belt
In two big lines.
Line managers fill
Reserve boxes full of nuts.
Then comes the chocolate.
A column of chocolate.
We have to stand and
Watch out for the frays in the belt.
We must stay in our lines
And trust the boxes have been refilled
Unending boxes full of nuts,
An unending formation of chocolate
Coming closer to where we stand.
Moving hands ahead blur the belt,
Quick and steady hands keeping in line.
Already the boxes look less full.
The bosses in blue hairnets refill
The boxes full to the top of nuts.
They oversee the decoration of chocolate.
Every day and they do this by sitting
By the boxes on the side of the belt,
Chatting, or milking power out of nuts.
And it’s us on the line
Who get the blame when the boxes are empty,
And chocolate goes by without being nutted,
And they have to chuck away trays of chocolate,
We’re sweating from their shouting but we stand;
We keep our places by the belt.
Our place is by the belt.
Either side of the line.
We do not wait for the nuts to be refilled.
If necessary we will take them from our friends
We think only of the chocolate.
For as long as it takes, we stand.
Copyright © Samuel James | Year Posted 2015
Poor men with wealthy lives are low dead
Dead and poor low mens lives were wealthy
Wealthy dead with lives poor were low men
Low and wealthy men had dead poor lives
Lives low remembering poor wealthy dead men
Wealthy lives are dead those low poor men
Poor lives are dead those low wealthy men
Copyright © Zack Dicks | Year Posted 2012
A drum with a voice I am
Active, proud and can smile
Made of cow-hide and wood
I can mime and make noise
I am here to be hired to shout
Provoked I make useful noise
Wood is my switch-board
Strike me with wooden sticks
And I dance for you twisty
Cool soothing dance
The dances of your heart
And sing for you reggae
Song of your mind for your joy
I am multi-lingual too
When given cheese, butter
I can cry with the crying
When showered with money, milk
I can laugh with the laughing
A talking drum, I ape my master
At times I am deaf and dump
Feed me not, I raise my hand not
Feed me, I postpone sleep and act
For I talk what you talk,
And hear what you hear for,
Life is a dream full of imitations
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2016