Ghost ships come alive on dreamy oceans,
Where we, in the guise of little children,
Are allowed to explore
Each and every mast, rigging and knot.
We are.
I become Errol Flynn, Harrison Ford, and Rudolph Valentino all rolled into one.
You take on the form of our favorite leading lady,
Now we get to save your ass
From the villainous Blackbeard.
Even Captain Hook has his hand in on trying to stop us.
Out comes that shiny sword--
Light as a toothpick and silver.
We slash down the sails onto the rabid pursuers
Then bloodlessly skewer them into inaction.
We free you again and again.
We met each other in the midst of summer.
Our hearts slowly became closer and closer.
We realized within past three months' time
Our minds see what we have is so sublime.
We first met each other mentally online,
Our hearts recognized how we are divine.
We reciprocated feelings of longing, craving.
Our minds filled with thoughts so loving.
We will spend this year's autumn together.
Our hearts' infatuation becoming deeper.
We'll soothe each other whenever we weep.
Our minds see through each other so deep.
We will see if we shall last past the winter.
Our hearts making our love all the stronger.
We'll hug one last time if you have to leave.
Our minds need to have faith and believe.
Enigma
He who has no name lies waiting in the echos
Of my mind waiting for slumber
He invades my dreams like a dog shaking a rat
Tormenting me until the dawn slips back into darkness
Daylight keeps this vampire at bay though I feel his
Presence following me in the shadow
Seldom a day goes by when I dont hear his call
Sometimes far sometimes near
As the sun starts to set I feel him begin to move
They say the body needs eight hours of sleep
I’ll settle for less
TIES THAT BIND
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
German
descendant
am I
ties
bind me
to
'Deutschland'
ethereal
threads
Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
a country that never was, that never had borders
He somehow thinks that things will be ‘fine’
with Hamas in charge of ‘law and order’
Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
whose people claim the land ‘from the river to the sea’
He somehow thinks that things will be fine
that such people will coexist with Israel peacefully
Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
though its Arabs came there to reap Jewish-Israel’s goldmine…*
Mr. Macron, it is the Jews who are indigenous to the land
No ‘recognition’ of yours can divvy up their sand
________________________________________________
*"Far from being an indigenous people, supplanted by Jewish
migrants, a close look at Palestinian origins and censuses
suggests most Arabs emigrated to Palestine alongside or
even after the Jewish immigration. ~ NSJ, National Secu-
rity Journal, 'Pandora's Box Opened,' July 25, 2025, MSN.
Line of inquiry:
"hearts set up a vibration
echoing as wordless intent
mind translates in symbols
flight of our soul’s ascent
is intent then a stirring
of soul with God conferring"
My one heart as a part of humanity's great heart,
spiritually holds the indwelling God presence as sought.
A human hold shiftily slants and grows knots tied fraught
with false-held, gloomy feels that egos and fears impart.
Divine truths dawn in our souls thru imagination,
not from human workings but graces gifts in-working.
Imagination can stop fears from falsely out-working
and foil mankind's believed limits of false accreditation.
In still solitude, spiritual truths as held in our being
meet our consciousness, our divinity's hidden place
in which our indwelling Christ gives ALL with God's grace
and intellect joins intuition too seek a soul's true freeing.
Through spiritually held faith one is belief aligned
in God's power, greater than any fear episode
man may encounter or engineer to earth upload.
No one or thing can malign what our Father designed.
My faith would never crumble feeble as styrofoam
when the worst that could happen is I'd get to go home.
Little Jackie Foreigner
Was not born here
Now he’s in Queens, a New Yorker…
He says, ‘Vote for Mamdani
He’s sure to protect me
~ though I’m not a progressive like he’
Why do we give them employment
let them come here and build a new life
Never give them a permanent status
make them live on the edge of a knife
They pick most of the crops that we purchase
care for children, disabled and old
Yet they’re forced to survive in the shadows
live in silence, and do what they’re told
We are losing what made us most special
our mosaic is our shining star
It’s what makes people dream about living
in this jewel they adore from afar
Sit down, and let me tell you, son,
about the historic district, Kensington,
in the year eighteen-forty-four,
when the streets broke out in war.
The Irish-Catholic were new arrivals,
impoverished, fighting for survival.
The existing population was disquieted,
and so, Philadelphia nativists rioted.
It was then that false rumors were passed.
In a bad light, the Irish were cast,
Propaganda and lies, the devil's tools,
"They want to remove the Bible from schools".
But son, these things wouldn't happen today.
We are enlightened, though let me just say,
if there is an unpleasant circumstance,
just blame it on the immigrants.
Loitering around at the expense
of my parents back,
I too wish to be at the resemblance
of hardworking thumbs,
those same fingers that sewed
the futile grounds back home,
my mother’s yuca farm,
my father's dying crops,
dance taking their final
waltz with the tumble-
weeds in direction
where my ancestors
sleep while their bones
continue
to prosper,
their voices evoke
within the breeze
that had asked
for generational appeal
to the heavens that took
their last breath,
“My body crisp
at the sight of the sun,
my mind wavers as my heart
knows endless
bounties of weeds,
twisting,
turning,
suffocating,
all of life beneath
our breaths,
Yet The Night is upon us,
offering eternal rest as
mercy has finally reached
it's limits, a new vision
begins alongside
the Golden
thread of Youth,
a soul that marked
a beginning and now
an end.”
All that's left withered
away as each ancestor
departs,
my parents left their grounds,
the vibrancy of life dried
up leaving no generations
behind,
My Youth became
their bodies and my life
framed forever in each
era of my ancestors.
Look, London ladies, buff your speech
Mind your soiled plantation fingers
Nary a trace of our old worlds
Occupy their halls royally
Porcelain cups poised on pinkies
You would pardon insurrection -freedom to mob, good people; while pouring ICE on immigration -Free rides National Guarded
Rebellion
Breached
Vigilante
Patriotism
Rebellion
Protest
Discontent
Nonviolent
Rebellion
While pouring ICE on immigration
Free rides -National Guarded, you would pardon insurrection -freedom to mob, good people
noonday sunshine
butterfly wings
pause, alight
in the shade…
northerly haze these days
chokes off noontide's
traffic
~ sputterflies
wildfires shocked her
borders
… unvetted
Calling over a blurry video,
As much emotion as static would allow,
Natheless I knew you missed me; your kiddo
I can see it in your eyes and wrinkles now.
Ever since I boarded the plane for distant lands,
Venturing zealously for a better life
Excitement eclipsed the price of my plans;
Repenting now I didn’t kiss goodbye.
Recalling sweat and all the pain endured,
Even as I build another life anew,
This house lacks warmth and I'm insecure-
Underneath it all I long for you.
Rooted to home only in the tongue I hold,
Now I'm counting the debt which I've long owed.
I don't want to imply that it was bad.
but what I've seen is drenched in black.
And I don't want to feel this way for you.
So scrape me out of you,
and I'll lead you out of me.
I don't want to live this way for you.
Only time will tell how this will end
there's to many scars to heal against
And I don't want to die this way for you.
So take me by my wounded hands
I don't want to be your f$%#ing friend
I don't want to be away from you
so look deep within my eyes
push in past this frail disguise
I could never be that strong for you
so scrape me out of you and ill
RIP you out of me
I don't want to live this way with you.
Its chaste in the way that this will end
dejection is my only friend
I don't wanna fight for you.
Specific Types of Immigration Poems
Definition | What is Immigration in Poetry?
Poems Related to Immigration
travel, exodus, migration, displacement, exile, voyage, relocation, removal, movement, transmigration, defection, march, peregrination, colonization, journey, expatriation, trek, shift, departure, crossing, wandering, moving, resettlement, settling, transplanting, leaving, homesteading, reestablishment, uprooting,