Best America Poems | Poetry

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

Search for America poems, articles about America poems, poetry blogs, or anything else America poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New America Poems

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

America, 1933 by Zak, Steve
America Watts 1851-1934 by hunter, stark
Building A Greater America by johnson, curtis
America by johnson, edward
Make America White Again by Leffanta, Rico
America is Dying Babylon is Falling by Lee Sr., James Edward
God Bless America by Deo, Anil
America by Lason, Brady
Sailing to America by pederson, doug
AMERICA by Rodrigues, Kim
the rise of america by very very very 1st, lucifer
Paralyzed Veterans of America by Byrd, Randolph
Women in Military Service for America Memorial by flats, lim'rik
As We Hunger For Answers to A Violent America by Olson, Richard
Good Morning, America by swank, tammy
America by George , Elaine
America we have a problem by Echols, Blic
america by Lawson, Robert
God Bless America by vaso, arthur
We, Are America by Brown, Angela

View all new America Poems

The Best America Poems

 
Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Autobahn

Rapid Eye Movements
cruise down the Autobahn,
driving dreams of soldiers 
slaying the Beast in the East:
seeds hidden in the cuff links
that return home for the victory parade.

The victory parade of the new millennium
is a mirage: desert sand creeps 
through the streets of Basra;
spray painted slogans of “Aryan Nation”
are left behind on pock-marked walls.

High level terror alerts
scroll across the Fear o' Dome,
breeding paranoid glances 
from commercial-class passengers
while they fly above fenced camps
where centralized secret service agents
watch the unloading of another train.

"Son, do you forget the sacrifices?
Have you lost all your respect?
Okay, it’s possible that the Feds
were influenced by the Purebreds—
a minor repercussion 
of maintaining our national security.

It isn’t even about racial purity—
you are all mixed now, anyway.
Whether female, black, jew, or gay,
we must unite together as a nation;
raise its flag with pride,
and fight against a common enemy!
This enemy is trying to disintegrate
the cornerstone of our free society!

Son, can you not see! Not see-notsee-notsea-notsi-
notzi-natzi-nazi-natzi-notzi-notsi-notsea-notsee-not see!"
_____


—cold sweat.

I awaken to remnants of nightmarish images
sifting through my mind:
flocks of carnivorous sheep
with invisible shepherds.

The dream had felt so real.

I rush out of bed,
just to make sure.
From my bedroom window,
I see the neighbour’s Iron Eagle weathervane
goose-stepping towards the west.
A lawnmower growls in the background.

Everything appears normal here
on 4th Reichstag Blvd.



2016 Neu Berlin Remix, July 13th, 2016
(original version was written on March 29th, 2010)


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2016

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

God Bless America

In the courts of sport and entertainment
They have forgotten the scales of justice
Lacking honor for those who gave life and limb
Sacrificing blood, and buried with god giving grace

The anthem is our history
of all triumphs, good, and even flaws
Look into the eyes of a veteran
to see inside a suffering vault

They, who fought, so that you may play
They who died, so that the rich live this day
Even the poor still have their freedoms
For veterans themselves, knew their reasons

No man, no nation can stand up to perfection
Its about respect of those, who gave...
Despite all imperfections
Without, history repeats, sending more to the cross and knave

When you hear "God Bless America"
Think of those flag covered graves
Think of the children
No fathers, because it is you they saved

Our nation is human
Filled with imperfections
Protest for change, for better days
While holding respect for those, who before you

With their blood, led the way


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017




Details | America Poem | Create an image from this 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. | Year Posted 2013

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

FREEDOM'S CALL

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

6/27/15



Copyright © Judy Konos | Year Posted 2015

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this 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 | Year Posted 2014

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this 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

~?~
7/10/14


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Memory Rides the Rails

Forest fairies changing colors,
autumn's patchwork pattern weaving
in the foggy morning stillness
before winter's barren grieving,
up the river on the damp air,
up hollows through the shadowed vales
sounds the mournful, sobbing whistle:
once more memory rides the rails.

Childhood song for railroad watchers -
a tinge of hobo in my veins,
longing for the lonesome whistle
like a lost child for his name.
Life began beside the railway,
an open door to fantasy;
my dreamer's soul soaked in the flavor
hearing that whistle witchery.

Hungry tramps in search of breakfast
found our doorstep every time;
hobo network communication
marked mama's eggs and bacon "fine."
Bleary eyes and beards all stubble
made child imaginations fly
and the tales with which we clothed them
were wilder still than hobo lies.

Oh, for the days when trains were magic:
iron dragons breathing smoke and fire,
lashing long tails through the valleys
with monstrous strength that never tired.
Oh, the secrets that were hidden 
behind the doors of plain boxcars;
feel the untamed urge to mount them
and plunder treasure from afar.

Delight was ours beyond measure
to waken on those special days,
finding, in the night, the dragon 
had brought the circus train our way.
See the bearded lady waving
and catch the fat man's twinkling eye,
smell the coal smoke's pungent flavor
beneath our magic big top sky.

Grown up am I; steam train magic
comes swirling by once in a while
to view autumn's fleeting pageant
and make train lovers like me smile.
Nostalgic, rhythmic beating,
staccato yelps and sobbing wails
make my soul a mental hobo;
once more memory rides the rails.

Copyright, 2000
Faye Lanham Gibson


Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

- A President Is Not God -




           Undone for all to see ... human fellowship, peace created

                 Every life has a beginning ~ brothers and sister  

                               regardless of color or disease

                        For all the beauty that haunts our dreams

                   Can we turn the truth ... something more clearly
















21.01.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Be Free, My Brothers

Penned like cattle, as if chattel,
     cages rattle, sounds of brattle,
          no more tattle, keen for battle.
Be free, my brothers!

The cause is great, our rights innate,
     not fuelled by hate, we’ll change our fate,
          we won’t be freight, not long to wait.
Be free, my brothers!

Marched out on deck, end of the trek,
     each one they check, from toes to neck,
          the merest speck, is cause for heck.
Be free, my brothers!

As we make land, I rub my brand,
     the time’s at hand, to make a stand,
          with me my band, just as we planned.
Be free, my brothers!

No longer sane, we share the strain,
     endure the pain, it’s not in vain,
          it’s all to gain, I break the chain.
Be free, my brothers!

Accursed whip, my clothes do rip,
     he splits my lip, I smash his hip,
          he’s lost his grip, knocked off the ship.
Be free, my brothers!

We're in the dirt, the words are curt,
     I wield the quirt, then shred his shirt,
          his blood does spurt, he's badly hurt.
Be free, my brothers!

The dock we shun, just feel that sun,
     we’re on the run, but not yet won,
          all said and done, it’s just begun.
Be free, my brothers!

Free of the snare, the wear and tear,
     the vacant stare, the matted hair,
          because we dare, to breathe the air.
Be free, my brothers!

So they give chase, don’t see the face,
     our fall from grace, because of race,
          their motives base, traded for lace.
Be free, my brothers!

More men appear, they mock and jeer,
     the end draws near, that much is clear,
          we hold life dear, so fight your fear.
Be free, my brothers!

At last we’re caught, not been for nought,
     got what we sought, for what we fought,
          to them we’ve taught, will not be bought.
Be free, my brothers!

Out in the field, wounds far from healed,
     blood not congealed, our fates are sealed,
          their guns they wield, we will not yield.
Die free, my brothers!

--------------------------------------------------

Originally composed in 2013, this is one of my longer poems. I was unsure about letting it see the light of day due to the sensitive nature of the subject, but this was my take on a particularly dark part of man's history.

Submitted to the "Go Ahead... I Dare Ya!!" contest sponsored by John Lawless.
(1st Place)

Poem of the Day: 10 April 2017


Copyright © John Michaels | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Of Perfect Beauty



And say unto Tyrus, O thou that art
situate at the entry of the sea, which
art a merchant of the people for many
isles, Thus saith the Lord GOD; O Tyrus,
thou hast said, I am of perfect beauty
— Ezek. 27:3


Libertas,
she who is of perfect beauty
Roman goddess,
situated at the entry of the sea

You hold a torch
that burns a cold flame
From the South Pole to the North,
everyone on Earth knows your name

America,
America
She reincarnated your ancient fame

America,
America
Her prideful beauty became her shame

Libertas,
the fame of your beauty everyone wanted to see
In the presence of a goddess,
all people from every nation worldwide wanted to be

You hold the dovetail tablet
that inscribes the progress of liberty
From the North Pole to the South,
they flock to the land that stands in the midst of the seas
All hoping to reach your shores, dreaming to be free

America,
America
You now reject those who seek haven within your buxom border

America,
America
The Holy Scriptures thus declare: Set your divided house in order

Libertas,
graven goddess greeting poor souls 
seeking the bond of assimilation with one another

America,
merchant queen selling plastic rainbows,
you look just like Tyrus, your ancient twin brother

Your picture perfect beauty
is rapidly fading away
You always took pride in your nudity,
now an ugly portrait resembling an aging Dorian Gray







Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Love Guns

I love Guns


Guns make us safe
Guns are rights and freedoms
The more guns, the more freedoms we shall bear
Every man woman and child should be armed
So that we are all safe
All schools should be armed
Teachers, Principals, Janitors, arm them all
The finally we can relax
in total safety
knowing we are all armed
I say give arms to the amputees too

Gun control is socialist and fascist
We registers cars
Houses
Pets
Bikes
We have banned toys
We regulate all kinds of things
Yet we are free
Totally free
Because we all have our right
To bare arms
Ask Kim Campbell! she agrees!!!

Not only guns
They must be automatics
The more bullets you can empty out of a gun 
the better
the more freedom you shall feel
Its called projectile dysfunction


And......... any man with a high IQ
Need's an assault rifle
Why of course to outsmart those ducks and turkeys
I firmly believe in a fair fight
Assault rifles to catch a duck
common sense to me
Quack quack

Guns have rights
Own a gun you have double rights
They are made to kill kill kill
Did I say they KILL?
Nothing more, nothing less
I need that right

Any child killed by a Gun
is only because we haven't enough guns

By the way
Children have no rights
Kill em all for all I care
as long as I have my rights

I am not concerned with facts
Evidence
Or the humanity of it
Is all about my Guns
Why
Cause I love Guns
More than humans
And thats my right
No matter how wrong it is



Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Charlottesville

I saw Nazis march yesterday
upon the streets of Charlottesville.
And with swastikas on display
crazed members chanted blood will spill.

I saw Satan grinning with pride
at racial slurs shouted in hate.
And bigots standing by his side
help the violence escalate.

I saw torches light up the night
snaking through the black neighborhoods.
And skinheads looking for a fight,
all they were missing were white hoods.
 
I saw white supremacists proud
of drawing blood and spreading fear.
And a car plow into the crowd
its intentions perfectly clear.

I saw President Trump place blame  
on both sides for this killing spree. 
And a shocked nation reel in shame
at how callous he seemed to be.

I saw what might be the end of
tolerance and democracy.
For mantras of hate replaced love
with smugness and hypocrisy.


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this 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 | Year Posted 2013

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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

-THIS IS NOT A POEM-

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 
---SHARE! SHARE!
By all means  --- SHARE THE NEWS!!!


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



Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ON THE WAVES OF LOST MEMORIES

    


   ON THE WAVES OF LOST MEMORIES…

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 | Year Posted 2015

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this 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 just send in a drone
when a warrant won't really suffice.

		2. Neutrality
The internet's meant to be free,
yes 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 the fishing's a fabulous sport -
	with your back on a board
	tepid water is poured
spawning 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 they're managing mortgaging pranks.

		6. Health
If you live in the States don't get sick
(lest a cut of the upper class clique).
	Whether injured or ill
	all they'll give you'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 come follow the call
	where there's money for all
and pure profit's the bottom-most line.

		8. Safety
Vigilantes and cops are wide spread -  
as for justice… not even a shred.
	The avengers of right
	score when stalking the night 
so beware of a cap in the head.


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2014

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Blood Of Your Passion

He's staring off into oblivion;
dead-lights, who of their own free will choose to illuminate
the gray matter microwave that is TV:
too vain, too vulgar. Thought Vanquisher,
brought to you by your friendly-facade-keepers:
the politicians pussyfooting on a pedestal
built of an uninformed (yet united) public -
whose belief in "connection" is in reference
to a wall socket. Not love. Not kindness.
Who unwittingly become hamsters on a wheel,
convinced of stars held in our pockets; while promises of prosperity
dangle on a string. Like Maya's caged bird we sing
- but not of freedom - to sing of that would be akin
 to declaring the sun has risen in the east. Freedom is a given,
at least that's the belief that's bandied about.
There's a boldface lie in that belief . . staring us in the face.
Are we too ignorant to see or too coddled to care?
Organic antenna, playing a fuzzy station;
our loved one's voice like a pesky fly -
six-legged silhouette on precious phones.
Halfhearted hmms-and-yeahs exuding from lazy lips. A lone
wolf, misunderstood youth - the euphemisms of today,
tomorrow's regrets. The diarrhea of words floating
in cyberspace; ricocheting off planets, but never touching earth.
The constipation of passion - nonchalant bloodbath of values -
no one strong enough to carry the hearse. We'll have to work
together - in unity redirected - to carry the load of our ancestor's past.
We descendants who reap the aftermath; let's carry on and forgo the calm.
Complacency is no destiny to pursue; crack the bottle against the bow,
that ship has sailed. Let us dabble in truth, instead of sugarcoat lies;
deception maybe be sweet, but give it time, it'll go straight to your thighs.
Embrace controversy with a bear hug, and give tyranny a timeout.
And should our words sharpen swords instead of mold minds,
may the massacre be only metaphorical - and the white flag of truce
be mistaken for a canvas - painted with the blood of your passion.


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2015

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Summer Nights in the South

Summer Nights in the South Green fireflies blink in the quiet of night and our sleeping old dog heaves a sigh. Dreaming, she sprints through a youthful blue sky chasing delicate clouds, cotton-white. A red-sunset tanager* colors the warm air from a perch in the majestic oak limbs above professing by lullaby, sincerely devoted love, like some sublimely recited evening prayer. I lay back and smile, through the leaves, at the moon to the sound of crops rippling in the breeze thinking how precious are nights such as these when alone, with the Earth I commune.
*Summer Tanagers (Piranga rubra) are native to the southern U.S. but are not true tanagers. They are actually members of the cardinal family. 08/01/15 Submission for Contest: Nature Poems Only Hosted by: Shadow Hamilton


Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Number 2

Impressive
Vice presidential

Walking on lily pads
Sinking within illusions

Snow drops bloom
Wisdom is waking

Darkness fades
Light pervades

We all seek to be one
Destiny sometimes makes us number two

Quite the topic to contemplate
As I wander off to the loo


Notes
As they say a pence for your thoughts
Amazing how see end up right where they belong!


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

We can rise above this

Pillows of clouds hid behind the black mountain
After showers fell like a light flowing fountain.
As the sun comes so unexpectedly today.
Air is mild enough for blissful thoughts to play.
Fall brings a day like spring without the flowers.
Just winter birds telling stories in tunes after showers.
Songs put the mind at ease with the rush of uncertainty
About those in power who are trying to appease.
The country waits to see what will come our way
With hope for unity so that we can together stay
Afloat in these turbulent waters we now face.
Waves out of a storm from some other kind of place.
Unlike anything we may have ever seen before.
We can rise above this because, we can be so much more.

Heidi Sands


Copyright © Heidi Sands | Year Posted 2016

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Pompous Pied Piper

Like the pompous pied piper leading the way,
chirping his tune of a dawning new day,
frustrations were championed, oh how we followed,
the ego stuffed shirt of a suit cold and hollow.

From the top of the hill, he showed us the view,
convincing our eyes it was harshly askew.
Nearing the cliffs as if caught in a spell,
he fed us like lambs from his poisonous well.

Touting sweet taste of his truth well embittered,
ignoring the signs of nonsensical twitter,
rot with the smell of the nations decay,
we drank from his cup of a water so gray.

Watching and waiting for gifts of his gruel,
the masses assured we were not made a fool,
his promise of greatness was all we could see,
with great expectations of how it would be.

There's no turning back once we swore the man in, 
believing bright futures were soon to begin,
blinding frustration gave evil its day
for the pompous pied piper to lead us astray.

He led us to thinking, all driven by fear, 
then gave his directives so cryptically clear,
stripping the values by which we would stand
before the American dream had been banned.

Addicted to all the attention and glory, 
swiftly he moved to remain the top story,
insisting on walls made of concrete and steel
built by the anger and hate we should feel.

Then some were shaken, disrupting his spell
and found he was stealing our Liberty Bell.
The fog began lifting and soon we would see
the piper exposed as the fraud he would be.

Time has a way, proven over again, 
of playing its imminent part.
The shedding of light upon every mans soul, 
exposing his darkness of heart.

No longer seduced by the piping we hear, 
choosing to see through the veil,
Democracy once again fights to survive,
let us all pray we prevail!

                              -Jeannie Minor


Copyright © Jeannie Minor | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Pied Piper from New York City - Part Two

The Pied Piper from New York City – Part Two

This is quite despicable and very inappropriate for someone holding the 
“Highest Office in Our Land.” The Pied Piper hides his treachery by
Wrapping himself in the glory of the “Stars and Stripes.” Talk about
True shame! He should look in the mirror!  

The “Forgotten Man” who represents those who fell prey to the inflated
Promises and mindless propaganda of The Pied Piper, should not at all
Be surprised later when they suddenly discover—they’ve been “had,” 
That is,
Sadly, forgotten by their Pied Piper,
Replete with his famous Trademark Attributes: 
Thin-skin, 
Clay-feet, 
Twitter-thumbs and
A shrill-accusatory voice.

The Pied Piper, as new-style politician, is also mired in some other
key controversies with his family that are worth mentioning.

Since coming to Washington, DC and ascending to the White House
on January 20, 2017:

The Pied Piper and his family have viewed the nation’s capital and
the people’s house as,

“Luscious Juicy Plums—Ripe for the Picking!”

And, the Pied Piper’s various plans and actions since his ascension
to the presidency are certainly not done necessarily in favor of the
American people—if at all!

Characteristically, he enjoys playing to people’s “Fears,” rather
than taking the higher road that any good leader would do, by
appealing to the “Better Angels of Their Nature.” For sure, an 
Abraham Lincoln, he’s not, nor shall he ever be!    

Indeed, the Piped Piper has done some very naughty things,
among others, already to his credit and ignominy:

His poorly-conceived and implemented Muslim travel ban.

Playing “Chicken” with the U.S. Congress on the state and 
quality of American healthcare.

Using the White House as his own personal ATM machine.

Becoming the “Patron Saint of Nepotism” with the inclusion
of select family members on his staff. (What’s wrong with a
little nepotism, eh?)

Engulfed in multiple business conflicts of interest, both foreign
and domestic.

Revelations of potential collusion with Russia and Russian
surrogates to interfere with the 2016 presidential election.

Blatant violations of the Emoluments Clause of the U.S.
Constitution.

And he’s just now quashed executive branch protection of the 
DACA Dreamer Immigrant Program. 

All these very naughty things are: tragic, thoughtless, sad, stupid,
and grossly reprehensible!

With all this, I now rest my case!

Yet, I would like to encourage everyone to reflect for a
critical moment on “The Fragile Nature of Democracy.”
 
“Democracy,” itself, has been viewed and likened to:
“That Most Precious Fabergé Egg.”

We all must devoutly cherish this most precious Fabergé Egg
called “Democracy.”

And protect it always from the unscrupulous actions of the
Pied Pipers of the World!

For us to do otherwise—would be unforgivable! 

Need I say more?

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2017 (Political Verse)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO YOU ALL

This is a terrible time of year for Turkeys
How many innocent lives are going to be lost?
All their friends and relations are in for the chop
No turkey is spared; their fate is sealed
Killed and then cooked in kitchens all over the US
So people can enjoy a traditional festive feast
Go vegetarian or vegan and spare these poor birds-
I understand nut roast is a very tasty alternative
Voting turkeys would ban thanksgiving if they could
I imagine they must dread this time of year!
Now, let me be serious… I hope you all have a wonderful time
Get together with family and friends and celebrate your special day

11-22-17


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

AMERICAN DREAMS SMASHED TO SMITHEREENS

AMERICAN DREAMS SMASHED TO SMITHEREENS

Miss American pie has a dream -
whipped cream of tijuana brass.

Groovy tunes quit on smoking grass.
Frisbee LP like steaming saucers crash.

The homecoming court is plastered.
What could possibly be the matter?

Moon rockets in flight, rock me all night baby.
There were stars in my eyes, as lala land denied.

In my crib the beatles rock me to sleep,
while Tate’s fetus stares at the Helter Skelter light.

7/28/2017
Chosen song: American Pie










Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017

Details | America Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mountain

The airy mountain, lush and green, they call home Perched on shaky rock, the waters beneath swash and foam Goats graze, cattle feed, fields of corn and wheat they comb Stored in the belly of the hefty hill The harvest, food for all, food to fill Spring is here, they forget the winter chill Swimming in the mountain stream, singing of selfish praise Not a worried eye to be seen, to the sky a glass they raise Foolish people dance and scream, their minds muddled, their hearts ablaze Through the earthen caverns they wander Wealth and fortune they do squander They do not think, they do not ponder What a waste these people brought No knowledge gained, no answers sought Squabbles grow more and more, 'ore the land they fought Blood spilled, turning the mountain red The rocks toppled, the peak lost its head Waste away they do, no stopping 'till they're dead.


Copyright © Andrew Walker | Year Posted 2017