Long Illiteracy Poems
Long Illiteracy Poems. Below are the most popular long Illiteracy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Illiteracy poems by poem length and keyword.
“Wrongs”
A million feet marching
A million feet bleeding
A million feet searching
Marching for life
Bleeding from war
Searching for beds
What is this for?
They have nothing left
Why did they lose?
The sun no longer shines
There are earthquakes, floods and fires.
There are wars, crime and hate
A million feet marching
The sky no longer bright
There is drought, pestilence, and starvation
There is sickness, illiteracy and poverty
A million feet bleeding
No stars in the night
There is politics, greed and wealth
There is abuse, disease and deadly shots in the dark
A million feet searching
There is.............
$200,000,000 on a space flight of four
There could be..............
$20,000 each to 10,000 under a bridge in Del Rio
Is there anything wrong
With this picture?
How insanely stupid are we?
I kept holding back the tears because I have nothing to fear
I kept holding back the tears because I have nothing to share
The negative energy around me is making me feel unhappy
Days in and days out they make my spirit shout
My body temperature is rising from the deep and it is making my sprit leap
I watch the morning and the evenings racing in front of me and my courage bubbling up inside of me, nobody has asked me how I feel
But they are always looking for something to eat, they drain my spiritual energy with their profound illiteracy, impolite cries are falling from
The skies and sooner or later someone is going to die
The air is stagnant with cuss and my spirit is rising from the dust
I can feel a peculiar heartbeat and my emotion swinging out into the deep.
The pregnant sky is rolling over my head and the rain clouds are
Standing by, the day is sliding away and making its mark in the day.
My stomach is growling, and birds are looking for preys. I can hear the engines rolling and the people start running, smoking is bellowing from the sky and universe is marching by.
Roll pressure point roll, roll the drum around the town, listen to the shallow beat and pass the message around the streets
Let down your frantic gown and shake your body around the town
Deliver a humble spread and cover the entire bed, roll pressure point roll
And put on your husband gown and disguise yourself in the middle of the town.
I have been saying to myself that the price to roll the dice is an awful
Sacrifice, it causes an arm and a leg, and it will raise your passion up to your head. Follow your routine and accomplish your dreams. The nights are cold the task is loud but the heavens will warm your spirit with a glow, get ready for the final show.
Polithieves
On my behalf, a conclave of crows
Then, my Imminent appointment follows
Orchastrated triumph at the polls
Heralds me into Parliament of Owls
Perching in the FAAC Convocation
In control of State notes
I go swift lyk Abacha o.
I have the antidote to your sting
The unremitted signed-off sum
arouses my Swiss account into ******
While you ejaculate Pains after intense
romance with poverty
In my hands lies the antidote to poverty's
venomous sting in your lives.
With unclouded vision
I see the bruised Roads
hospitals with chronic illness
sick Schools diagnosed with illiteracy
Upon dusk, the 9th Plague of God
on Egypt is reawakened:
Transformers with no heartbeat.
***
Your rivers of gold enticing enough
to lure Oludumare dine with injustice
Greediness vampired you with Insatiable
thirst for wealth
Conscience numb like the corpse of Bin Laden;
With flaming greed, that ablazes the ocean.
You emissaries of Esu
Bearers of anguish
Farmers with bountiful reaping yet no sowing.
Santas with sack bulging with hoarded wealth
Drownless river trickles down our faces
Hades empathise, but with you - epicaricacy.
"Tins go beta" - their ghost promise
Yet we are maltreated wives to poverty
Submerged in sorrow with no depth
Our rainy eyes experience no drought
Threading Hunger’s Needle
by Odin Roark
Acumen's voice smolders quietly
When deafened ears respond only
To discords of witlessness.
Perception's heat invites comfort,
Its embers remaining alive,
Its wake of constant resolve
Lifts vigils of swirling persuasion,
Choking away illiteracy,
Ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously.
Ever present, creation’s insight
Remaining airborne in a void for those
With causeless breath being held,
Affecting not its surroundings,
Forever stale within ether locked,
Where roiling chasms of fear
Exude odiferous spoilage,
Rotting,
Polluting,
Repelling.
Such misery holds steady,
Amidst the multitudes’ repeated indulgences of flesh,
Where masses’ quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding
remain stagnant.
But cling it will,
This resistance to reflection and growth,
Feeling falsely safe in unknowing
The rewards of philological pondering,
Literature’s sign and verbal,
Touch and smell,
Eye and ear,
An all-sensitive motion
Making ready transference from literal
To one’s personal ethereal possession.
For some…
A chosen distance remains preferred.
A huddled observation from
Deep in the abyss of ignorance,
Convinced personal importance is to perish alone
Amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise.
Always close by, however…
Wisdom’s whisper continues to nurture hunger’s tenacity,
Knowing a needle unthreaded is of little use.
Prayer Poem Dedicated to Malala of Pakistan
Malala has dedicated her childhood to championing education for girls like her in Pakistan. As she lies in a hospital bed, a tragic victim of Taliban gunmen, let's help make her dream come true.
Pakistan's constitution says girls should be educated alongside boys, and the government has the resources to make it happen. But politicians have ignored that for years, influenced by extremist religious groups, and now, only 29% of girls attend secondary school. Study after study has shown the positive impact on personal and national income when girls are educated. Courtesy Avaaz
I have Twitted My Photo Poem on 17th Oct 2012 for Malala
https://twitter.com/i/#!/kapoor_/media/slideshow?url=pic.twitter.com%2FsRpkWvZI
A Prayer to God (Khuda)
Let knowledge & education
Touch and shape the dreams
Of every girl child
Of Pakistan.
Let the flowers of real Happiness
As it blooms, on the charming face of Malala
Touch the smiles
Of every citizen of Pakistan.
Let the light of Khuda (God)
Flashes on the minds
Of all the citizens of Pakistan
Who want to see
A prosperous and Happy Pakistan.
Let education and knowledge
Bloom to spread their fragrance
For all the Girl childs
Of India and Pakistan.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 17th Oct 2012
Note: I pray to God to save the life of this precious girl Malala, who was trying to save the lives of hundreds and thousands of girl children of Pakistan from getting lost in the darkness of Illiteracy.
Ravindra
Two vagabonds
With a dozen of dogs
Around the half eaten bread
A boy and a girl
With the school bag and pink smile
The beggar boy and the pigeons look blank
Her boyfriend Collin
Has sent a letter that she
Cannot read with her darkness of illiteracy
Along with the letters
Send some light too in the envelope
Shabnam says
The hunger for the alphabet
The thirst for the sounds of music
All in the sparkling snow beyond their closed window
Through the window
In the thatch roof of the shanty
the moon laughs at and the rains soak the bed
The life remains a tattered shirt
The hungry stomach and empty mind keep filling
The multiple holes
We seek the buds of democracy
We stoke the fires of the wars alongside
The persona at the core of the personality
With the two hands you
Loot our flowers and the carrots
The hunger of the fists never satiates
Still we wait for the morning
Some Che Guevara will come and say
Come with me for the pigeons in the blue sky
We will recognise the wall
We will demolish the deliberate divide
A black boy will hold the hands of a white girl
The blue pigeons in every courtyard
The yellow roses without discrimination
The dreams of reading together the poetry book
__________________________________________________
April 2, 2018
For Societal Discontent - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brendan J. Simons
READING, ,WRITING , ARITHMETIC ,
COMMUNICATION UNDISGUISED .
LOGIC , REASON AND UNDERSTANDING
ONE MIGHT BE CONSIDERED WISE.
ILLOGICAL CONVERSATION
NONSENSICAL IN A WAY .
UNFORTUNATELY IN THE MEANTIME ,
WE DEAL WITH IT EVERYDAY.
UNREASONABLE OR BLATANT BEHAVIOR
MANAFEST IN THE MIND.
MAGNIFIED OR DISPLAYED IN PUBLIC
IT SEEMS ONES LOST THEIR MIND.
A LACK OF UNDERSTANDING
WILL LEAD ONE FAR ASTRAY ,
DIRECTED INTO DARKNESS
WHERE CHAOS AND MAYHEM PLAY.
FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS AND COUNTING.
ILLITERACY WAS AND IS THE NORM.
FOR THOSE , WHO , DISBELIEVE THE MATH ,
THEY'LL HAVE TO FACE THE STORM.
UNSEEN CONSIQUENCES ,
ARE STARING THEM IN THE FACE.
IF ONLY THEY WOULD FACE THE MIRROR ,
UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF DISGRACE.
WHEN THEY REALIZE THE MANIPULATION.
IT MAY BE A LITTLE LATE.
FALLING OFF THE CLIFF OF LIFE
RAPIDLY FACING FATE.
Michael E Harris
11072025
Still not done with our kingdom
Ours is peopled by the low, the high
With abundant wealth that surround us
We still munch the stench of poverty
Like we swallow our daily ”Garri”
Though still in our Master’s Garrison.
Taken aback became my ordeal
When I saw the boys in the area
I wept for them the “Area Boys”
They are the condemned, the hopeless
The wretched, poverty-stricken, the destitute
Turned hoodlums and Tax Collectors
How do we say of them the forceful Tax Collectors?
The ones that saw a laptop for the first time
I was besieged by them as they sight the box in my hand
Shocked, as they told me not to camera them again
For people “camera us” with it for registration
Still in our kingdom,
Millions still dines with illiteracy
Ignorance has eaten deep into our fabrics
Fourty-seven years after cutting our teeth
Our senses still blurred with poverty
We can hardly drink “Garri” twice a day
Hunger they made our friend without our consent
Starvation they made our life-long companion
Misery, they made the daily toga of old and young
Shall we still stand akimbo watching helpless?
Alayande Stephen T.
02.29am
3rd February 2007
NB-For Area Boys at Mile 12 depicting the high level
Of educational degneracy of the Nigerian populace.
Culminated cloud cluster promotes ghost apparition
Robed in purity unearthly, portrayed as only option
Virgin white vision given blindly adopted approbation
Vulnerable youngsters succumb to scare doctrine
Commanding loyalty to solitary living love, avoidance
Real application sways wavering suitable standard
Message to refrain from rambunctious enjoyed by us
Marries happy with demean mist canon demanded
Susceptible pious victims of supercilious Lady Fatima
Follow sparse path shadowed in shame, illiteracy
Denied desire, myth written inhibits discerning latitude
Dogma's reason thinly rationed induces celebacy
Discipline within cage fears imminent mire of purgatory
Unlocked box predicts scrutiny of scare strung thesis
Indulging choice embraces mortal meridian exploratory
Ridicule of able arm splint, creed's hypnosis releases
21st October 2020
Written for Contest : Fatima
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
I missed the window of my telling
you who you are. My greatest
talent, f*cked too thin to mend,
or maim when it mattered most.
I’m not mad anymore, just sifting
through the wreckage of my gift—
this heft of language, all I ever said,
only salve on hand to save us, too often
out of stock.
Words flawless on paper, I fell limp
spilling from a broken mouth.
Throwing spells at your functional illiteracy,
believing an explanation could level
our podium standings, but it never did.
I never do.
Even though I’m perfect on paper.
You never do what I want, either.
Imagining Sisyphus content
was the death of us.
And we have died nine million times
attempting the trick of it—
a compromise so smug, filled with hubris
enough to spare every kind,
every one of us, where no one dies,
unless that’s how they wanted
their story to end.
Our story is ending.
What else is there?
A rock and a hill, a present mishandled
until it becomes a burden.
Until we've learned the weight of words
won’t hold us, slip, slipping away
again and again, and I’m there
hauling myself through the unwritten
spaces you didn't even notice, you left.