Writing Political Poems

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Details | Rhyme |
The List

I was waiting by my mailbox
To hear news from the Soup
I know they like to keep me
Somewhere, in the loop
I couldn’t wait to see, ME !
Somewhere at the top
Of The Hundred best read poems
That reader's thought were Hot

While I nestled in my chair
Took my subtle writers pose
With my thumb under my chin
And my finger, side my nose
I started to peruse 
The list presented clear
While looking for My Name
I found it wasn’t there

Perhaps an over site
Could sure explain, a lot
They failed to read, the comments
And all the praise, I got
But then, it came to me
Those guys are really smart
My poems are so good
Their’re simply off the charts 

                                           By JTCurtis  

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
believe you me sirandmiss
a country made of this
youIItthem(a blended cocktail conspiracy)

you, Land of Calvin
Klein peacoat peacocks and Maybelline
Girl with cryproof mascara dripping(fashion
-first step lacking substance(of you
I sing: land of Oliver North and Ellen Degenerous
land of malcontent:singing(quietly)humming
cooking cuisine in add-one-minute-microwave

fashion.  Shaving with grandfathers
dull razors: regifted dull past-tense,
passe(useless musings) all and every
voice:merrier men singing old songs
for yesterday dancesteps contradict
wants for(pleading) a progressive and peaceful

now.  Rome then leaned on decayed pillars
now: chasing barbarian hordless lands
are stray grazing(starved weak) seeking,
singing  A-
ca, I mourn
you and every-one-of-millions
bitter wanting back gifts given
continually.  Awash in(apathetic)

let freedom echo

hollow. xanex glazed eyelid
americans (sitting in assigned seat,
from a menu)

screaming meekly.

Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009

Details | Epic |
In the United States of America, all immigration laws must be in effect at all times. It's
been like that since the Civil War started and the signing of the Declaration of
Independence. But everybody must accept the fact that the people from different countries,
including India, are becoming citizens of the United States. It seems that some people
don't want them in our country because all foreigners will not just take their jobs or
whatever, but commit crimes everywhere they go, including solicitation or whatever. Well,
the last time everybody had checked, the united States of America was called "the land of
opportunity." Now I, for one, am for immigration rights. Just like these people from
Mexico, Haiti, China, or wherever these people are from, they have rights, just like all
of Americans do. Some people like me should make them feel welcome in our country, but
some them are always judging these foreigners by their religions, faiths, and/or beliefs,
background, or whatever. The ones who have always been hateful towards the people who
aren't U.S. citizens since 2006. And some people are ignorant, selfish, and on top of all
that they're a bunch of hypocrites, just like the Ku Klux Klan who've always wanted all of
us African-Americans to go back to our country called Africa. How stupid is that? Okay,
sure, these people from foreign countries may need to pass background checks in order to
become citizens of the United States of America, but the fact of the matter is that day in
and day out these people, from around the world are God's children, and these people
really need to stop being ignorant and arrogant--for once. If I'm going to stand up for
immigration rights, everybody should stand up for the people from around the world,
including Egypt and Afghanistan. And no matter whether he or she is Muslim, Buddhist, or
Catholic, or whatever, we're all an equal and we are all God's children. God bless
America, and the whole wide world.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012

Details | Personification |
Four corners.
Stands, four players. 
Quarrels of foul cries, collided.
Facing each nemesis into quadrants, divided. 

Individuals motivated by objectives.
Devising plans, careful detectives. 
Goal to achieve the highest rank, careful steps--discriminate.
Going by the hit-list, tunnel vision, hindrances must eliminate. 

Scoping intensely, measuring opponents, methodical evaluation. 
Staying alert, mind assessment, sedulous investigation. 
Shrill of the first struck, the red bullet--bounces. 
Instant reflex, ricochet the shot, violence--denounces. 

The King may bend the rules, charges swift modification. 
The Pawns are summoned, critical prosecution. 
The Bishop prays for the suspects, classified praises, flattery denunciation. 
The Queen cradles a heart, each beat rebounds, battery probation.

Copyright © Jesson Rata | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Avoiding the unpleasantries of the Barbarians At The Gate
It is over there, for they thought they had Found The Golden Grail
Wandering The Elysian Fields looking for a needle in a haystack
living in an ivory tower. Look a lounge lizard.
Out to lunch, A Few Sandwiches Short of a picnic
I am Eating light downsizing So not to get a Few Extra Pounds
Let's change the subject seriously though
as serious as myocardial infarction
sketchy but I see through the ploy like a glass table
Did you hear, maybe you are hard of hearing
It is all smoke and mirrors
Politics Maybe, How about The war on euphemism
It’s Just Politics that is a “overly simplistic guarantee
sweeping generalizations that can be contradicted by individual experiences
accurate…not precise enough. He didn’t say anything wrong. That was true.
Excuse me did you say something touche not touching that
Yes, the mock euphemism over your head
Let's talk about religion then like the apple of my eye
Truth is stranger than fiction Pass the salt of the earth, please
eat, drink and be merry not a doubting Thomas
Did you hear about the wolf in sheep's clothing
Why are you bringing up poly-ticks again I guess, a leopard can't change its spots
A heavy purse makes a light heart.You get the checks and balances, I will pick up the tab

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
Yall have always known me, been right there by your side,
And thats exactly why...You should VOTE FOR ME.
You all shop at the same stores as me, I've seen you in the line
And again, at the same places we go to eat...there's nothing to decide.
You should VOTE FOR ME and you know why!

We know what we want for our own country & know what it needs*VOTEFORME*
So we're campaigning on every road & street, because we believe:
it's time for our nation to be the way it's supposed to be,
and we're not gonna make the same mistakes like those before me.

I promise to give the poor money, and lower your tax
Everyone will have a J-O-B, credits cards, loans & cash
A brand new house with a lawn so green, and a car so fast
Cheap, reliable & free engergy, and students can have shorter class

I'll make you wealthy, Make you healthy,
Feed the hungry, Save the country,
I'll give you land, Shake your hand,
Govern Millions, Love your childrens,
I'll stop the war, Make prices lower,
Go to church, Build Heaven on Earth,
No foreign firms, Domestic first,
We are the best, They are the worst.

So please go stand in line, make a sign
Come & reach, hear my speech.
Let your pockets do the talking
One donation and the world is changing,
two or three, then we can beat them
Send your checks, send your cash,
or they'll turn our country into trash,
put signs on your grass and wave your flags,
hurry and VOTE FOR ME, time is running out fast,
We love Amalgmia, we're the best it has.

I promise if you vote for me, I'll take time every week,
to visit you, where ever you may be, to help everyone in the country!
I'll paint your house, Graze your cows,
Thresh your wheat, Shear your sheep,
Raise your barns, Rake your yards,
Get your cat out of a tree, VOTE FOR ME.
I'll open doors, Sing background on tours,
Kick your mules, Drive car-pool,
Do the chores, Sand the floor,
Pick the kids up after school,
I'll make us free of our countries past guilts and crimes.
We'll achieve diplomacy without compromise

I believe in government transparency
at no risk to national security.
I believe in freedom of expression
and maintaining conservative responsibilty.
And the rights of all the people protected
by consensus and constitutionality
I would only wage a defensive war on enemies
in the name of humanity and stability

dont you worry, you can trust me, yall know me;
I'm honest, openly, completely and totally
I'm the last and only hope for our country,
so please VOTE FOR ME.

Copyright © elit wright | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
 Anyone can write…
 and drown in their self-delusions; 
 from persons into personifications
 lists of passions, glorify self's illusions; 
 down those lists, 
 most veiled by incomprehension
 one's passion is most often expressed
 as the byproduct, 
 of misconstrued personal emotions; 
 therefore, in these briefs that follow
 rest some seeds for those
 whose mental fields lay perpetually fallow…
 Xenocrates, his gods being unity and duality
 i.e. episteme, aisthesis, and doxa
 are lost to US, 
 by rue of epistemonike aisthesis; 
 Mersenne's numbers, 
 to Eratosthenes' sieve
 Erd?os' factorization, 
 and Archimedes' constant conceived; 
 Holy vowels expressions! 
 Great Gobs of Goose shite, please! 
 release US from this context, 
 relieve this tumultuous tease; 
 probe Bertrand's Postulate, 
 exposing your thinking's
 prime numbers seized; 
 however shallow, and wordless
 your tongue tied thoughts do concede…
 so many things are above me, 
 so many more lay beneath
 my scratching, itching, and twitching
 these are reminders of my simpleton's grief…
 in this fiat before me
 on these issues held, and in my beliefs
 that my mind is much more
 than the street corner tavern's
 proverbial hat rack…
 now that's a relief! 
 What is it within US? 
 that sullen darkness and introversion hides
 those snide daily reminders
 the eclipse of the sun
 and or a debutante's swoon
 a cheap parlour tricks wonder
 or that pin-striped baboon's face
 we each express as we howl at the moon…
 Excuse me this meandering
 but, it is my gut busting chortle
 you now so surely conceive
 that this little snippet from our dear William
 does so help you believe
 that we all live this one time
 so as ourselves, do profoundly achieve
 what your inquisitive conscience
 exposes as your life's
 most constant semibreve…
 ['Think of this life; but, for my single self, 
 I had as lief not be as live to be
 In awe, of such a thing, as I myself.']
 in conclusion of
 this bit of confusion
 do infuse this allusion
 as your daily transfusion
 of the smack of illusion
 and the sole, blithe, transformational revolution
 now necessary for your mindset's
 ever changing and ongoing mental de-evolution.

Copyright © michael walkerjohn | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |
Oh well here I go again, 
wishin for a dream that I could be wrapped in, 
entrapped in, 
torn away from addiction, 
destroy the tele… 
vision they strive to force upon you, 
its all false but you know I’m true. 
They will not protect you when you scream your broken cries, 
they are merely evil faces of masked men behind illuminati eyes 
with which they hypnotize, 
brainwash you with their lies. 
I've got those deep thoughts pouring in, 
all the roads I've traveled down
conditions I have traveled in 
here in my pretty town, 
the 910 deserves a crown. 
East Coast I'm representing, 
I promise you I am not venting. 
High on that purple haze, 
And still haven't slept for days, 
excuse these bloodshot eyes
with a krispy kreme glaze, 
some will try to say its just a silly phase...
My mind is so graphic, 
use words like special tactics, 
unmistakable like D'Jango, 
or a peace signs' angle, 
destroy the crave for war and struggle, 
no need to explain all the trouble, 
with places burstin’ into rubble, 
Rebel! Rebel! We’ll show ‘em hell! 
I’ll be fightin’ when I'm dead, 
kick and scream till my blood is shed, 
let authorities know the message will be spread! 
Put on a show with a little bit of passion 
or the bad things will continue to happen.
Get the love through your head, 
all this hatred should be dead, 
what I'm saying must be said, 
before the gauge goes into red. 
With vocabulary this brilliant makes a female more vigilant, 
like brothers boston what I speak 
my words alone will make you weak, make you faint, 
Like blood spilled by hands of a vigilante saint, 
trust me lifes too short,
you dont have the time my young cohort, 
wait until your words make an enemy
cause their threatened by the uncertainty 
that you will make it this far 
make a point unlike this war
next thing you know you see ‘em sweat
words fresh like paint drippin with purpose, 
makin ‘em wet.  
I finger paint a master piece with a just simple rhyme, 
just don't pull your piece on me just let me speak, my mind, 
while I unwind, rewind all this blasphemy, 
continential catastrophe, 
I may have to beg and plead so that my boys can rest in peace 
sorry for the interruption, 
don’t blame me for the corruption, 
for now I'll put my words at ease, 
hope you told someone you loved them today and that it wasn't a white lie, 
just a tease.


Copyright © Andrea Rose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio |
Teach me how to speak your history. Do not judge my sense of hearing or abilities of my vision. I was born after you took a rest from your freedom fight poetry protest actions and the rest. Please teach me how to speak your poetry. I have no threats behind my pen. My inspiration rose from the love of words.  Mounted from poets that turned words into swords cutting through dark images carrying oppression. Soldiers, who puked words inspired by anger, hope, desperate needs and i am a part of that breed. Is it a fault if i enjoy the victory of your fight without the knowledge of your history? Amandla spirits has turned into commercial songs please teach me how to speak your volume.

I am that kid chasing composers of protest songs instead of cleaning my skin with the meaning of those songs. My writing exposes self-taught language that speaks in mute sentences when the kings of spoken word throw punches of disbelieves from their highness expectations. My history is only relevant to the now as the then history has been buried with the ideology of writing poetry for money and fame.  Discussions run within beer sessions in favor of competing with poets instead of sharing poetic languages with disciples.

I am living in times were promises are faded by images of enemies practicing my tradition. Times were heartbroken souls return favors in death beds with no remorse.  Fingers pointed at leaders who promise flipping pages that give hope to empty tummies in that African book. Draining pockets with tax i know it sounds perplex. Please teach me how to speak your time your rhymes. My writing has only been a celebration of my abilities as tears emerge only in sessions in honor of appreciations screams falling from prophets who know nothing about your history. Dad, my dad had no clue in your time so his views make no sense a talk about ancestors becomes mystery. Please teach me how to spell your history. Teach and speak your culture.

My face is covered in spoken words but nobody sees them. My heart drives through Photoshop pictures we can never find our real leaders.  As i write this letter, my hopes and wishes are directed straight to your pen and paper, petrol bomb expert. I turn to question your existence as I am glued in this venomous pen yet still no reply to my status. I have never walked your struggles yet expectations rumble in bulk sounds anticipating my story in your history spelling victory please teach me how to understand these mystery.

Yours Lyrically

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Gathering grey clouds
Whip crack of frothing thunder
Is this Africa?

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |
O writer! Your quill quivers in its mark!
As a light shines in the gathering dark
While people struggle towards some vision
To attest them truths is your sole mission.

In prose and in poem may you reveal
Festering lies and felonious deals
Despite those who censor please persevere
Your ink is the ichor your foes fear!

Banishment is a writer's objective
By this we know our foes were attentive
By their displeasure our work is measured
And one day our toil is truly treasured.

Take up your quills and prepare to question
The quest for truth is a path to heaven.

Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013

Details | Imagism |
Words on strike/ 
Words on strike/
Overcrowded words on strike/ 
Like a swarm of bees/ 
Words group hug to fish-hook the parliament’s mind/
Holding placards on the entrance written/
“I Don’t Know Yet Is Time Delayer"/
Don't waist time is the spirit words hold on to/

Zapiro a hero speaking in cartoon spray paint lingo/ 
Vocabulary disguised in animated expressions/
Words high-pitched on greyhound bus walls screaming small four five’s pay E-tolls/ 
Heavenly transport is sinfully packed with idioms/ 

No word will make it to paradise friend/ 
Jailed metaphors rely on words for parole/
On silent, words blink plan of action links/
Camouflaged in rhythms, words shoot spoken bullets/

Boneheads puzzled vernacular is spoken in head scratching styles/
Scrambling scrap-yards stored with irritated reverberated placards/
“I Don’t Know Yet Is Time Delayer"/
Rapture anticipating concession/ 

Echoes of word’s footsteps in tears for the motherland vibrated/
The government is cutting us like beards/
I don’t know yet is time delayer/
My poetry deep you don't know it yet/
Until my words go on strike/

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Poets in the pot
Striving not to get cooked
For poverty in the hood
As gotten all hooked 
Becoming ingredients of hunger 
For all to maw

A new season...
A fresh session...
For the wrong reason... 
Recession a new name 
Best known to them

Stimulating ideas cocooned 
We are the laughing flock
of several rudderless shepherds
Life of a wordsmith activist
Still in the soup stewed 

Strands of words
whittled to bullets and pellet
Firing from all cylinders
our pot-belly shepherds 
Sorting out issues with Pen
But bullied with hunger

Analytical paralysis in full swing
Poetry an apt medium 
for language of protest

Bully me not today 
With words, we travel to freedom castle 
With hunger, we fro back into fiefdom cabin
Bold and grave, brave and spot on
Fighting with the tongue and pen 
Shall our tongues be mute
when deeds are wrought 
Yet our minds far away 
From the battle field

Alayande Stephen T. 
5th October, 2016
At the office

NB- Just thinking aloud yesterday with the members of Loudthotz Poetry trying to play on (Protesting Poet or Poetry) on our whatsapp group and this poem came knocking...

Copyright © Alayande Stephen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Epic |
Democrats are known for making things right, but republicans always lie about everything.
Everybody knows that the democratic party will run the republican party out of the U.S.
Congress and run all of its offices every day for the next 5,000 years. When it comes to politics,
the democrats are the only ones that will make real promises to fix everything, that
includes decreasing taxes, promising all of us job openings, fixing the economy,
supporting gay marriages, and that kind of stuff. But unfortunately for the republicans,
they can't make any promises to all of Americans like the democrats can. All of those
republicans will do is lie to, cheat, and steal from the U.S. citizens, that will have
included the African-American community. All republicans don't care about anyone or
anything but themselves. Republicans are evil, manipulative, arrogant, and completely selfish. The democrats,
just like President Barrack Obama, are kind, caring, warmhearted, and all of the other
nicer things that will have described the entire democratic party. We all don't think that
the governors who are republicans will run for President of the United States of America
in the near future, especially when they're planning on deporting all of us from our
original origins back to all foreign locations, that will have included Africa. And in the
year 2012 and beyond, we will not vote for any of those lame republicans, let alone Sarah Palin, Rick
Perry, or Donald Trump. The only person we will be voting for President of the United
States of America is Barrack Obama, who must remain President for the next 50 years.
That's why democrats are firm and honest and republicans are just bold-faced liars.
Republicans are full of baloney and the democratic party will take over. And if the
democrats win the elections and they were to stay in the offices for the rest of their
lives, this will be a great thing for all of us democrats. The democrats, as in the good
guys, will always win.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
Words Bound Together Thoughts Formed Between Lines Knowledge To Absorb Learns The Bookworm Wishes Expressed By Letters Ideas For All To Share Building Blocks For Peace Believes The Bookworm Fact or Fiction Penned Expressions of Desire Mystery Exposed, Secrets Veiled Hunted By The Bookworm

Copyright © Steven Gadberry | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
To Dine, To Die;
Conversations spiral
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.

Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.

An endless groan
Argumental paralysis
The debate grants no throne.

Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.

"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.

When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,


until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,


Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.

(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue |
the negro is inferno. doomed for hell. sinful with lost indulging in their own ignorance. made into a reincarnation of the devils wishes. the devils wants the devils needs. they say the pigment is the reason. but i say Jesus is the reason for the devilish seasons excuse my blatant response to the evils that have been done in the name of the SON. the inferno negro is the movie of this country, always watched and critic-ed. you must understand that self hating is very wicced, misunderstood when you walk through a suburban neighboorhood the devil is screaming conform!! conformm!! inferno negro you dont belong so just get along, even if the devil knows. the devil knows your story and your weakness and he lives behind and inside the so called supremacy system we live within. peace inferno negro know thyself for you are so lost in this Babylonia hell.

Copyright © KingWata XX | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
You seem to like a complex life.
You go out looking for struggle and strife.
You call this just a step up to the cause.
Do you solve any issues at all?
Then I see that you have team played.
An empowerment zone is therefore, staged.
Once established, you have become a trailblazer.
This is your political arena made.

Your socio-economical world is the USA.
The United States of America is multilayered.
Your aspect is as a business negotiator.
Comprehensive to law and perceptive to economic growth, you have 
     formed a workforce.
Your showground is pitched.

Shrewdness is a characteristic of yours that many of your followers state 
     is the rapport.
You understand all facets of the workforce and demonstrate implemented 
     components of a socio-economical world.
Nous is the epithet gave.
As a catalyst, this is not just a radical phase.

What are the factors of your continued success?
You must stay involved.
Political activism
You must stepped to the cause.
Political advocacy
You must build your bridges.
Therefore, you are part of a greater focus.
Henceforward to construct the future is a defined path.
Longevity is distinctly your factor of continue success.
PENNED JUNE 26, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |
the debt ceiling talk
led to so much tension that 
the room's ceiling burst

Copyright © Cathy Ncube | Year Posted 2011

Details | ABC |
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...*

Copyright © Grace Williams | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? |
I’m writing “Dear John” letters to John Deere
I can’t afford the gas hikes and continue to farm here
So I’m writing “Dear John” letters to John Deere

John, you’re quite the fashion statement in your yellow and your green
You’ve seen me through the good times; you’ve seen me through the lean
You’ve always been there for me as I plowed the field
You deserve the accolades for every yearly yield
But, John, we must part company despite our wondrous past
For, John, you have depleted me, I can’t afford your gas

I thought that this would end it; I thought my thoughts were clear
I thought we would part peacefully; the end was Oh so near
When I wrote this “Dear John” letter to John Deere

But letters can’t convey the heartache that I feel
Through all those years together – the wounds that will not heal
For letters are mere word groups and simply can’t replace
The finality of endings that takes place face to face
So I’m out here with my John Deere, the key within my hand
I turn it, slip out of the seat, and walk away a man

Oh, he’ll find another farmer who can afford his bill
I’ll see him on another farm parked up there on a hill
The yields won’t be as profitable as when we were together
And I’ll think about him often but I know it’s for the better
I’ll have to go back farming as my forefathers did back here
And forget the years together that we had – me and John Deere

Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative |
Too enthralled by his works done
Last farewell been said and made
Mockingbirds and sparrows came
Las vivas and the sound of guns-
He faced the 7 o’clock morn sun


Dr. Jose P. Rizal- poet/author of  "Noli Me Tangere" and 
"El Filibusterismo", his famous novels that cost his life.

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2008

Details | Haiku |
The clock's time is off.
Like a capricious tyrant,
my cell is bothered.

Copyright © Vincent Caruso | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

© 2011 JSL

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Epitaph |
Today I was 
   about the martyred 
Yiddish poets
   Only know a few phrases 
of that language
    but I feel that poets shouldn't 
be shot 
     and if you ask me why 
    It is because they 
are the educators of 
     mankind's feelings
          The only ones 
who keep the 
when shadows cover the 
      minds and souls
                of the pouplace      

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
"My Big Brother" nach oben und unten auf der Straße
  Er konnte jeden treffen Sie sein
  Bespitzelung von Ihnen von der Straße
  Suchen in aus jedem Takt  "My Big Brother" ist das nicht süß?
  "My Big Brother" und ich weiß nicht, warum

  Gießen von oben in den Himmel
  "My Big Brother" der kommunistischen Spion
  Zuhören in Friss Vogel oder stirb
  Bringing sein Buch in  unterrichtet innerhalb
  My Big Brother, 1 - 800 - LET-US-IN
  Gefangen mit Papier und einen Stift Alles nur, weil, "My Big Brother" ließ sich in"My Big Brother" up and down the street
  He could be anyone you meet
  Spying on you from the street
  Looking in from every beat
"My Big Brother" isn't that sweet

"My Big Brother" and I don't know why
  Casting in from above the sky
"My Big Brother" the commie spy
  Listening in do or die
  Bringing his book in
  Taught within
My Big Brother,             1-800-LET-US IN      
  Caught with paper and a pen 
All because, "My Big Brother" let himself in

Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2012