Best Migrant Poems
With return to summer tree of berries red -
he flashes ‘tween the green scene like a trinket;
celebrant in citrus hues of sunset bled
it matters not if twilight is delinquent
for he wears the molten shades of end-of-day
evening’s pout, in skies of gray, reflects dismay;
a zesty orange-envy oriole brings
for he torches air aflame... a flame with wings.
Susan Ashley
October 5, 2020
(June 7, 2020)
Rispetto lyric rhyme scheme: abab ccdd
Poet’s note: I am lucky enough to have these beautiful summer migrants, Baltimore orioles, return to my mulberry tree and hummingbird feeders each Spring. Such a sweet joy through the summer season! When they depart at the end of August, a piece of my heart goes with them.
Birds
Fly
Migrating
On open sky
A chartered course found
Resting on lofty winter boughs
Swooping like magical kites, a swirling dance of flight
With miles still to go, fearless in their mission, cackling caws singing in
synchronized rhythm.
March 20, 2017
The Lady of Liberty looks me in the eye.
I am tempest-tost, and welcome reliant.
I pass at her feet, yet gaze at torch high:
Soon to be standing on the shoulders of giants.
Migrants Tears
They tried to shoot me
Then rape me
Then enslave me
I am empty inside
Where shall be my refuge?
Is there any humanity left in this world?
You, with your earthy comforts and peace
Why do you fear me?
You, who has not seen war, why scorn me?
I am you, I AM YOU a human seeking only tranquility
Yet you belittle me
I am not a terrorist
I am terrified of your behavior
So I ask you then, who is the terrorist?
I, who have suffered so,
Shall embrace all lost souls
I with nothing, would give my all
To comfort any anyone in pain
My heart is mine, no one can steal my kindness or smile
Even I cower in the shadows
Afraid of our times
Orphans Fears
I am here
Crying
In the cold
I once had a home
Now I have only fear
Not even a sweater to stop my shivers
I wrap myself in old newspaper
Do you read the news?
The Female Migrant
A customs official found a suitcase with a forgotten
Syrian refugee lady in it, he took her home blew life
into her and he was no longer alone.
Bought her sexy underwear skirt and blouse and
a bicycle pump and no longer did he bother going out
drinking beer with his fellow officers.
A perfect little refugee she was so undemanding
and silent not for her to turn her back complaining
of a headache and other female ailments.
After wild night they had done it five times, she had
she had shrunk a morning there was a tear somewhere
in her vulva, that could not be repaired or glued.
With manly logic, he blamed the refugees swamping his
country living off the fat of the land doing nothing and
thus, a love story ended on the scrap heap of humanity.
silhouette afar
first seen thrush in withered paddy
lone warrior
Yes, this is a bad joke
Yes, this is a sad comedy
What an irony
What a parody
Smile and smirk, so you won’t be poked
What a hilarious lie! It is a travesty
Immigrants don’t eat pets
They eat beef, chicken, and pork
Like you and me. All bets
Are off. Let’s be serious and dark
Migrant workers are looking for jobs
What a spoiled brat candidate! Unnecessary stabs
And sound bites, this time, will not work
Migrants are people too
Yes, I’m talking to you
Who believe in fake news, half-truths and lies
All human lives matter in front of God. All lives
Are special. Migrants are the poor children
Of the Almighty. Give them food and haven
If your ultimate goal is to reach Heaven
It’s about time, the system puts the felon
In his place. Nobody wants a convicted liar
A criminal with a deferred sentence at the border
It’s sad to see a grumpy old con artist
On stage. There’s no place for a divider, a racist
In this day and age, in today’s political scene
How strange, unbelievable and obscene
To see a liar tremble before the Truth
God is Great. It’s time to pray and to play the lute
Immigrants do not eat pets. They are like you and I
They eat chicken, meat and pork, and also enjoy apple pie
It’s time for the judge to send the felon
Where the fellow belongs, in jail, in prison.
Copyright © 10 September 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous books of poetry.
Migrant workers and street children
Tarek Hasan
I do not sleep on eyes
Early action is away on leave
I have the luxury of back pain.
I did not question my race today
Abroad my identity?
Most of the walls are stained the conscience of the question
Minded as unwanted, what is the worst?
There is still the heart of the depression fall down.
Logo people tarite torn sail the way,
Common goal pursued by the will-o'-the-wisp
Children in memory of the way up the wall of the picture .
Children born faceless way, why?
Why is he silent, still did not answer
Human cruelty, not their distant
They are hated, god luck on the way out
There's still retired, their running play.
Sometimes the station the station never seen Mohakhali, Jatrabari, Gabtoli intersection,
Look out the rotten dumps to drain the water heater,
Sometimes the traveler exile
Sometimes money Sadarghat two porters.
The way they address their shelterless
There is no guidance on the identity of their birth,
They are sitting next to dumps
The smell of rotten rice spread on the nose,
When fatigue, happiness nest don't find
Do not fall asleep on the way to the park,
I space where foreigners with them.
Hard job labor malicious belly
I went down the road where there Pedestrian
Is next to the trash cans at them,
Nonra afternoon sat down with hand-goody
it does not smell like an owl.
There is no identity of their birth but spent the day
And so what I have received,
What is the way I walked Logo
Lived my life the ultimate curse.
When fatigue overheating on the labor body
Not finding the shadow of the vacation home
Fall asleep by the side of the road, with the head of bricks
And they do not mind, I
And do not be sad whisper, not torn,
I am a migrant worker, my identity
Today, the street children.
I sit in a tent, rain pouring down
My children are crying, no food to eat.
My spirit is failing, starting to drown,
Hands clasped in prayer, my God to entreat.
My homeland has perished, corruption and war.
Our houses destroyed, our lives ripped apart.
Inhuman brutality to even the score
The only choice left was to make a new start.
I am not a migrant, nor scum of the Earth
But driven by force at the point of a lance.
Educated, hard working, a person of worth,
Am I not worthy to be given a chance?
Described with derision, insulted and harmed,
Demoted to numbers contained in a speech.
Our boat was a lucky one, only becalmed
The others all drowned, bodies found on a beach.
I am not subhuman, good Lord above
I must give my children a chance to succeed
To live life in freedom, respect and love,
If you prick us do we not bleed?
Jets and planes have conquered the sky
Just like us, fly over the deep blue ocean
They have copied us, use avian highways
But, why are the singles unable to fly?
They have made mechanical giants
Which will carry many of them.
A pilot navigates the way
They will sit in comfort
Happily drinking champagne
Once a pilot asked me, what's your Avian secret?
Our eyes are large for a sharp eyesight
In air and water, we see well.
Tube shaped nose enhances smell
Hooked bill is for gripping the fish while flying
The feet at the back,propel us from behind when diving
Narrow wings regulate, turbulence while flying
The thickly dense plumage is for insulation
The long wingspans produce aerodynamic lift
We can read the sun and stars
Parents teach us navigation skills
Instincts, landmarks, all these help
If you want to fly, this is all, I could say
Now that we know each other well
I have an important thing to tell
As you know friend, over the time we have evolved well.
Natural problems, predators and storms are manageable
Human threats like power lines and hunters are the worst of all
Destroyed habitats, changed environments, make it unbearable
Turtle dove and many other sea birds now face extinction
Please be kind. Save our migrants without restriction
dear migrant
where you came from
what did you leave behind
memories moments
dear migrant
who did you leave behind
family friends
dear migrant
what dreams did you not find
there
here
dear migrant
neighbor
liked
disliked
wanted
unwanted
I will never understand you
you or your reality
fully
partially
but I will try
try my best
to accept you
somehow
even love you
somehow
I was a lost boy I wasn't talkin'
And I was so small I wasn't eatin'
So I went on my own, my demons I'm beatin'
Three years of silence, no walkin' no fightin'
Up to LA, that's where I'm goin'
Will I return, I can't say without knowin'
I'll go on a boat, and then by a plane,
and I'll get to the place where you live out your pain
And you who tried t'shoot me down
Where are you now?
I have removed my gloves
Nows the last time you scoff
In the dark depths of winter, I wasn't cryin'
But now we're in summer, I would be lyin'
And I stole to eat, and eat I will
And I shared it around, so we all had our fill
Keep heading north, that's where I'm goin'
I hope I return but there's no way of knowin'
I'll go by a truck, down a long lane
And I'll get to the place where you live out your pain
And you who tried to push me back, Where are you now?
I have made it down this long track
So now you never can scoff
I have been trying to write this for a very long time. If you are struggling it is from the perspective of a South American trying to reach the United States.
Form:
The American migrant bounds along like a bouncing ball along the wobbly suburban fence,
before climbing the nearest tree like a grey helix, leaping into the drizzled drenched foliage.
Some dislike its ubiquity and its imperialist approach towards our more attractive patriotic
bushy tail red squirrel, as though the American greys torture the reds to death over fires.
Our red has been fighting back with our support in attack in favoured parts of our island,
as elsewhere the commonality of the American grey and its acrobatic antics everyday
brings a smile on this drizzling, damp morning - so welcome Yankee doodle dandy.
Incomers
From the middle east and Africa, people seek European shores
dispossessed and poverty struck, they seek, a better life
a promised life of democracy and work for everyone
Many, when reaching Europe, cross the channel from France
in Britain, thanks to the BBC World program.
Their point of embarkation is Libya, once a successful state
now a rough country laid low when their leader, Ghaddafi
was murdered by Western power getting their blood dripping
hands-on petroleum.
With many races and cultures coming to Europe, one asks?
Is there an upper limit for this invasion; is there a moment?
When, this must stop for the sake of the individual nation-states?
Is this influx good for Europe, making it malleable for business
a low-wage economy and no bothersome trade union?
The truth is, in Western countries, have a net loss of newborns
because of a high standard of living and top-educated women
who no longer want to be burdened by many children, this
make perfect sense not to waste time with childbearing.
When Russia noticed the population was retracted, they did
something about this and introduced an economic plan to
counter this and gained; we see the same in Nordic countries
In Portugal, say, too few children are born it only takes
a couple of generations to empty the land of its inhabitants
Migrants to our shore can be a blessing infusing new blood
to an ageing population, it may not be like the nation of Yore
two cultures merge, that is better than being forgotten. No?
it casts off from the quay
to cross short stretch of sea
heading for foreign shore
with migrants from afar
they leave place of despair
to start new life but where
the boat is sitting low
the swell begins to grow
and then the sea spills in
passengers panicking
beneath the cold moonlight
the boat rolls left and right
all now are on the brink
as boat begins to sink
soon all are in the sea
but crew quickly swim free
life jackets they have on
but passengers have none
and never reach the shore
then gone for evermore