Best Emigration Poems

Exiled from my homeland,
Excited and scared, I
Entered a new country.
Expressing myself in
English, I struggle with
Emotions and poems,
Ever yearning for home.

September 16, 2016
For contest Pleiades E
Sponsored...

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I left Ireland in the 80's with my husband and two babies for Holland. In 2003, we 
returned so that our children could have an...

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Patriots we are
Ashen through war
To a more promising today.
Ruminant mammals as warlords
Insinuates the future of glory to come.
Open to emigration from across waters
Today is our...

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When in the Course of Earth’s climatic events, 
it becomes necessary for cultures to resolve political bands 
which have connected Her with human nature, 
and...

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One small little country which houses 
one of the highest paid governments 
in this modern world joke ran upside down

A big part of our life...

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Dear Siblings Three,

I was reading a story
in which some siblings became estranged
after their parents died,
while others moved toward greater solidarity.

This is a variation on a...

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Blue sky forms the fortress of their world

I can picture them- the ebony and white
velvet stripes, the arch of necks, the
flint-edged hooves
Beneath the weather-regimented trees
...

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The big 'R', do you actually know what you're doing
To our week nation,
Absolute panic stations, feckin banter deflation, endless duration
Eternal damnation the foundation, our country's...

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This city 
has a spire 
in the middle, 
the needle 
of Ireland's despair, 
cost us money 
and lots of our riches, 
this is our city...

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I have some info to dissipate
It took me a decade to collate
And now it’s yours for free
After this exposure I will flee
To a faraway country
I...

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Thirty years ago, long before ISIS started executing Kurds, Muslims and Christians, I hired a Pakistani Muslim as an art director in Chicago. I was...

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A Simple Disc Of A Poem

Not yet another stream of consciousness
from disc to brisk journey path behind no
emigration refugees bombs shrapnel hunger
There is gratitude though...

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Adorning the walls at Brigham and Women's
Head on his hand quite comfortably resting
The subject distinctive in his smiling position
Inspires the asking who is this physician

Over...

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land is  threw you

And was laid on pavilion of a poem

It may not mislead characters ... Who are you?

A homeland on the door of...

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It was a wet November day
on the motorway to Cork
waiting at traffic lights
a tiny man shuffled towards me
frail, bald and alone,
his piercing eyes beseeching,
palms outstretched,...

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