Best Nationalities Poems
The symbol of remembrance is the red poppy
When I look upon it, this is what I see,
I see courage, sacrifice and extreme bravery
See thousands enlisting to defend their country.
I see other nationalities, every colour and creed
Who came to help England in her hour of need
I see water filled trenches with deep mud and rain
I see flashes of gunfire and hear the wounded in pain.
I see and hear the big guns that sound like thunder
I see a Europe at war slowly being torn asunder
I see the deadly yellow clouds of dense mustard gas
Hear the cries of those poor souls breathing their last.
I see the battles that were won and some that were lost
I hear the sounds of victory that came at a great cost
I see the graves of the fallen who gave us that victory
Remembering the sacrifice they made for their country.
I feel the pain of the mothers who gave us their sons
At wars end feel the peace when they silenced the guns
We mourn all those that died and for them we must pray
But war is not the answer we must seek a better way.
When you wear your poppy always do so with pride
Honour two minutes silence for the brave fallen who died.
So the next time that you look upon that little red poppy
Just pause for a moment and tell me what you see.
Written 16th May 2018.
Darkest of Confessions
Voices in my head
Dancing abreast with the abstract
Shattered glasses and shattered dreams
History repeats many a lovers’ defeat
I demand a duel
With my heart
I welcome the sword that shall draw first blood
Ending the torment of duel nationalities
Kissing lovers and slaying love
The ménage a trois of all duels
The sword, the heart, the opera of nothings
Graveyards hold the court, from dusk to dark
Lovers return
Some are loved
Some are slayed
Regrets in my diary of misery
Hold me true
I shall sing of you
In my darkest confessions
As my sword pieces your heart
You can bleed in tranquility
With your last breath
It’s I Mademoiselle de Maupin
That laid you to eternal rest
Julie d'Aubigny 1670Aprox–1707, better known as Mademoiselle Maupin or La Maupin, was a 17th-century swordswoman and opera singer. Her tumultuous career and flamboyant life were the subject of gossip and colourful stories in her own time, and inspired numerous portrayals afterwards
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
There is a place where poets gather,
From every country in this earthly realm;
Poet's mingle, no matter race, color.
Such a diverse group of people sharing souls,
Poems varied as their nationalities;
Haiku's, sonnets, rhymes and oh, the verses.
Beautiful are the comments that inspire,
I have found a place that encourages;
Like a quiet creek in a forest found.
_______________________________
April 20, 2016
Poetry/Verse/A quiet creek in a forest
Copyright Protected, ID 16-780-932-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Beauty and Diversity
sponsor, PD
Third Place
RIDING THE TRAIN
Catchin' the train to the city makes an interesting day
Peak hours all the workers going to earn their pay
Many nationalities all different in their own way
And then there's the trains always a delay
I silently watch as I sit alone
Many of them busy on their phones
One calls for a ride they're nearly home
Another rejects a call number unknown
An elderly couple sit near the doors
Shopping trundle in hand, out to the stores
One another they obviously adore
Weekly shopping to them is no chore
A young man with headphones sits down below
Tapping his feet to the radio
Looks like a student with a portfolio
Maybe Art he looks like Michelangelo
A middle aged woman above takes a seat
Dressed impeccably she's extremely neat
As she sits you can see her physique
Very fit but oh so petite
A group of young students are making a noise
Some other passengers it really annoys
One of them says 'Can you be quiet please Boys'
But they just get worse and increase their voice
A mum with a pram and a child in tow
Pointing through the doors at the arched rainbow
The child sits on a seat looking out the window
Mum's in a hurry but the trains' on a go slow
The end of the day and I'm heading home
A busker at the station plays his xylophone
The station manager speaks into a speaker phone
It's amazing the walks of life a train ride has shown!
I was not born here but I’ll probably see out my years here.
Circumstances brought me here twenty or so years ago and I’m still here
It’s a river town, a fisherman’s town and a day tripper’s town.
It is still an important grower’s town, a garden of England town.
The ruins of the abbey are still visible, a reminder that religious hatred is not something new.
The ghosts of battle are still around; Simon De Montfort lost the battle of Evesham in August 1265, but won, because democracy thrives.
In the town there is a great choice of restaurants, Thai, English, Polish, Indian, and Italian a something for everyone’s taste town.
The many public houses in the town have the olde- worlde look with black and white Tudor architecture which gives it a historical look with great tasting ales.
Fetes and festivals throughout the year make it a something always going on town.
In the spring the apple blossom blooms and is beautiful to see and the many orchards surrounding the town attract visitors and cyclists to witness the beauty of it.
There are many churches here where worshippers can pray without fear of persecution or hatred from others, a peaceful town.
The many nationalities that live here, Italians, Polish, Indians Irish, English, and West Indians give it an international feel town.
Evesham is surrounded by typically English villages built of Cotswold stone and some with traditional thatched roofs, they look like a scene from from a Christmas card and when it snows they do.
The silvery waters of the Avon have parted the town but two bridges join it, one town, Evesham my town.
Written 7th August 2018.
A- Appreciate the love between you
B- Believe in their inner beauty
C- Console them when needed
D- Delight in their presence!
E- Encourage their works and dreams
F- Faithful-not a sometimes friend
G- Give to them, more than you receive
H- Hug them with joy and gratefulness
I- Integrity with them in a must in all matters
J- Jump at every chance to celebrate their success
L- Love them not only as they are, but for the blessing, they are to you
M- Merriment must be shared, as often as you can,
N- Nirvvana~let the peace of Nirvana bless you
O- Optimism be your shared outlook
P- Play your hearts out!
R- Respect each other's point of view
S- Sunshine! Do be this to one another!
T- Treat each other’s hearts with kindness
U- Uplift them...when they are lonely or down
V- Vim, provide plenty to each of them
W- Well-being in you both is a must
X- Xenophile you must love all nationalities
Y- Yearn for each others happiness
Z- Zest, be the spirit residing in each of you
1/25/2024
ashes in an urn
a lovely new urn
whose ashes are they
who was burned that day
what races
what religions
what sexes
what nationalities
maybe they’re all mixed in
ashes indistinguishable and
undiscriminating in one
could there be hope
A- Appreciate the love between you
B- Believe in their inner beauty
C- Console them when needed
D - Delight in their presence
E- Encourage their works and dreams
F- Faithful not a sometimes friend
G- Give to them, more than you receive
H- Honesty with them always
I- Integrity with them in a must in all matters
J- Jump at every chance to celebrate their success
L- Love them not only as they are, but the blessing they are to you
M- Merriment must be shared,
N- Nirvana~let the peace of Nirvana bless you
O- Optimism be your shared outlook
P- Play your hearts out
R- Respect each other's point of view
S- Sunshine! Do be this to one another
T- Treat each other very often
U- Uplift them...when they are down
V- Vim, provide plenty to them
W- Well-being in you both is a must
X- Xenophile- you must love all nationalities
Y- Yearn for each others happiness
Z- Zest, be the spirit between you
10/19/2020
Opus# 1
Is it still there, swaying in the
Chicago air?
I dream of myself with dark,
ribboned braids, being just seven.
And swinging my tanned legs as
hard as I Could,,trying to kiss God's
cheek in heaven.
Oh to be seven again!
When free speech reigned.
Girls had cap guns and trains.
We played games of all kinds,
No PC police to say,"No, No"
"No cowboy and Indian games.
Choose marbles, they are PC tame"
(Yes and so maddeningly lame!)
Nobody hit one another.
We were of all nationalities!
All colors and yes, were sisters
and brothers.
No such freedom for Children today.
They must, bow, kneel and kiss
whatever pressure groups say!
They are trying to make girls into
boys and boys into girls.
One androgynous nation under
no God at all?
Where all are "whichevers" and
Freedom has taken it's fall!
We use color to get our way.
That white man is pure evil they say.
So we beat them good, though they
did nothing to us.
It's the sign of the times.
All white women and men must
Bite the dust?
Sadly, sadly, our freedoms down
the toilet go.
To the SS Socialism Ship we blindly go.
Cheering for free everything.
You will never hear another
Liberty Bell Ring!
October 23, 2019
WHAT IF THE WORLD WERE BLACK--
What if the world were black;
I mean every single person all nationalities;
All they could see would only be tan, brown, bronze black;
How would you react?
Would you close your eyes, only if you’re prejudice?
Would you say I am yours only if you loved me so?
What if the world were all brown;
Would you stay around;
Does the color of my skin, send you running
Toward me to wound or kill
Or running away cause you fear;
If it were a matter of fact and we were all colored black;
How would the Klan, fair…
Would they even care;
What about all those different religions …
Guess what God is no color God;
Does it matter to Him at all?
Does your spirit soul have a color?
What if the world were black;
I mean every single person all nationalities;
All they could see would only be tan, brown, bronze black;
How would you react?
Would you close your eyes, only if you’re prejudice?
What color are the angels, are they like us;
And what about Jesus?
Take a look at yourself, look around;
Judge no man understand we’re all just clay;
Made by Gods majestic hands…
Breath of life colorless it’s about the inside not the out;
And what about Jesus?
Take a good look at yourself?
2/28/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
-----From forthcoming anthology “Reality Realm”
Men and women in blue,
I write this in honor of you.
How you can even leave your
husband or wife?
When a bullet from organized
madmen might take your life?
I have no such courage!
Don't Americans understand?
You are there for their safety!
All of you would aid us right
away, you are not Johnny-
come-latelys.
The anarchists destroying each
wonderful city.
Children die early, a huge crime
and a shameful pity.
Not one professional sports star
ever mentions the innocents' names?
But oh, my, they refuse to play when
a criminal dies, a humungous shame.
The message is very clear to me.
Anarchists, sports stars, take the
knee joyfully to criminal brutality.
My life really does matter to me.
Wake up, Social workers cannot
protect me nor you from cruelty!
America becoming Venezuela,eh,
or worse, Cuba Two?
The blame is in the hands of
those throwing rocks and I loudly
shout " Shame on each of you."
I am no fool,this nation a tapestry
of many nationalities and colors.
You want no peace nor justice!
Just laws your way, total anarchy
And disorder, my brothers!
Martin Luther King, a mensch,
In his grave must be turning!
When watching you loot,burn
and steal....
It has me more than worried,
with my stomach churning!
How dare you burn the Flag of
this country so grand?
As in the Middle East, they
should chop off your hands!
Perhaps both feet, too.
As all decent laws in the USA,
and people's you so ignorantly
eschew!
I have no answers, save this!
Get people out of office who do
support these thugs.
They need far more than a slap
on the wrist.
Arrest them, jail time for sure.
Behind bars they belong, all
these rabid, hate America thugs!
September 4, 2020
2:15pm PST
A snowflake fluttered down
Without making a sound
I examined each as they sat on my arm
Intricate details on each one
Each with a beautiful design
Each with it's very own unique lines
How different are these snowflakes from us
We are all unique
We are all made with our very own design
Each of us design our own pattern in life
We are as unique and beautiful as this tiny snowflake
All the different patterns in snowflakes
All the different nationalities in the world
As in the beauty of the snowflake
There lies a beauty in all of us
Snowflakes melt away
Humanity must stay
And make a difference every day.
Why Africa
Africa is yet again up in arms
And the host nation is South Africa this time
Africans, open your eyes and see
After these attacks what will we benefit
Xenophobia is like pus
The wound that is resistant to healing
Xenophobia is like mushrooms
Popping whenever a thunder of ignorance strikes
What did we mean when we jointly said
We, the people of South Africa
Declare for all our country and the world to know that
South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and White!
In June 26 1955 a word went forth
The Kliptown word echoed through the globe
From that day on, South Africa’s mission
Was to accommodate all those who dwell in it
Now we are turning our backs to the world
Where our wealth is coming from
We have turned our nectar’s wealth into a doormat
Wiping our bloody hands with Freedom charter!
Can we really hide behind poverty
And blame foreign nationals for taking all our bread
Where else we struggle to make earns meat
Due to hand out attitude we adopted after apartheid
Our authorities has done well to appease sins of the past
They gave free education, social grants to name few
Other things can be free but we need to realize that
Self support requires hard work and innovation
My fellow brothers and sisters, Africans!
Resist ideologies that torn us apart
And employ neutrality to embrace other nationalities
Shun xenophobia and learn from one another.
Poetry with soup, is like a nice bowl of Alphabet soup
spelled out to your liken.
Poetry with soup, is like a bowl of Turkey soup very hardy and very chunky.
POETRY spelled liked: Palm nut, Onion, Ezogelin, Tomato bisque, Ramen, Yam; delightful.
SOUP spelled liked: Split pea, Oxtail, Ukha, Pumpkin; tasty.
Poetry with soups; is like having a bowl of hot classic Chicken soup.
A very hot home cooked remedy, for all writers and readers.
Soups of all kinds are like unto different variation of all writers,
having various nationalities, ethnicity, colors and gender.
All mixed together to form a readable poetic soup of enjoyment.
Poetry with soup is delightful and delicious:
Enjoy this with me as I write and reciting poetry
while eating splendid sensational tingling soup
with poetry and all its artistry.