Immigrant Poems - Poems about Immigrant

All aboard the bizarre Farage barge.. Unless of course you are from abroad.. . Narcissist catalyst.. old school fraud..discord twist.. Can't resist.. staging the raging red mist.. Fist of Mob rule tryst does persist.. Depraved raves..insist..craved faves.. Won't save slaves & knaves.. Hellbent they are sent.. To graves under the waves… Foolish votes for ghoulish gloats.. Seedier media leaders lying.. Defying the dying.. Folks...

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Wide-faced baby still crossing her legs, Shivering inside her own mother’s womb, Her parts stay hidden from the ultrasound’s cold, metal screening, Warm pool of darkness heating up as kicking goes wild, Already moving through mother’s quick anger, Already formed and already asking…. Wanting more time, wanting more time. Mother’s eyes glow brightly, brown almonds growing wide as I am...

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He calls this August In the morning between trees and metal, The ground is shaking as he laughs, He is almost there upon the orange trees over my country, Down where little speak English, And my home is upon bright sands between our fingers that Pull tomorrow back to the time where mothers are left behind Beneath nights of fear...

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Juan tells you he is an immigrant, northern mexico that he learned to speak english in iowa and these coupled are the reason Juan's accent is different Juan is not mexican Juan lives in fear of americans Juan in america is a raghead a camel jockey, sand this is not unique to america the world is filled with such infidel, hymie, gentile, untouchable the...

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I have a song to sing and it will tell you where I have been, in the shadows of the night the fear of hope break through daylight and destiny begins the journey without shoes. They left their homeland in search of a better life two of them walking hand in hand as destiny propel...

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She stands behind the glass, Her towel in hand, so still, Watching as the snowflakes fall Like stars against the winter’s chill. I watch her, where she pauses, Still and contemplative, gazing out at the world. What does she see in those snowflakes? A blanket of white, a city of cold towers, white mountains? Maybe she recalls a time When life was harder still, As...

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I have a harsh past but a bright future I have seen death upon my eyes and felt the need of nurture I have been surrounded by lies that have covered nothing but the truth I was blind and foolish throughout my ages of youth I am an immigrant With a dream to be successful But how can I accomplish this without it...

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Grandpa Francesco Proia, from Caserta, Italia, a clever stowaway in the bowels of the ship bringing him to Ellis Island, Feb. 4, 1905. Gruff ways, often snarling a guttural “Huh,” a lack of English, never-ending hand gestures, made me fearful of him. But awestruck I was with the romantic notion of his stowing away. Bootlegging homemade vino during Prohibition – another plus as he captured my imagination as un farabutto –...

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Will ultimately acquire a resentful attitude.  Adrift, things will be sought all through the house.  The travel guide and short visas to Crouse  My passport, birth certificate, and mood The only thing that drew you away was sadness.  This was the reason for your original departure.  My worst kept secret: my puffy eyes; no future.  Immigrants may stay in the black or...

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From marble and granite to steel and glass, we were discussing Rhina Espaillat’s On the Avenue in class, was it 1950s or 1980s NYC and were the fifties the city’s halcyon days or is it now, the 2020s, the boroughs teeming with immigrants from the round earth’s imagined corners, Hasidim and Muslim, Haitian and Russian, as we Italians and Irish in an...

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I come from the land of coffee, plastic breasts and nonsense, drugs and narco past, very proudly they'll exalt. Woman so pretty as blow-up doll, got so many surgeries, you don't know what you touch. Reality or banality, inflatable, fillers, makeup, extensions, lashes and nails. Got your complete package for the fair right price. Blame society, men, the patriarchy, for the pancake...

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'Your goose is cooked' I told Azizi "My what is what?" He questioned me 'Your goose is cooked' softly repeated Azizi frowned He looked defeated I wondered why he couldn't see his goose in my oven of transparency...

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summer local birds insects and warms do not cry no immigrant birds...

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Equation invasion pilot light; Substance abuse out of sight; Bargain donors Delight; Quantum disturbance; Humanity really hurting; Relying on physical denying the spiritual; Unmanageable intangible Spiritually ignorant Disloyal spiritual immigrant; Work and toil; Loosen soil; Help me Lord; For I am more solid and spiritual; Table mound of dirt and clay; With the breath of God in Me; Unimaginable unmanageable intangible spiritually ignorant I am chosen I am a...

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They call us illegal And I know that we are, It’s a choice that we made In coming this far. Through jungles and forests We travelled on foot Our hearts in our mouths, But no choice to stay put. Murder and rape Sadness all round Gasping for air Afraid to be drowned. We’re willing to work As hard as we can An aversion to toil Not the reason...

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