Long Immigration Poems
Long Immigration Poems. Below are the most popular long Immigration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Immigration poems by poem length and keyword.
Infiltrated is what I rate it
the taking of our government raided
The voice of the President,
"It's gold plated."
Yet the relief of a nation
Is being impatiently waited
Jannes and Jabrese the officials they sent
Without anyone knowing what they represent
The ceasure of records, control
and the moneys being spent
All the good causes good government would grant
The poor and the widow are under attack
But I know one thing that they lack
The Moses of today will fight with the facts
And an army will drown at the seas collaps
It won't be long, this vicious attack
Those who are out numbered
will be trapped like rats
And justice will be bragging "I'm back, I'm back!"
They came to me for Jewish names
A Russian-Jewish couple, not to blame
Where they were from, Hebrew was banned
As it had been throughout Communist lands
His name was Boris; hers was Bronya...
In a twinkle I said: "Greetings, Boruch and Bracha
Your new names are special; they each mean 'blessing'
No longer will either of you be guessing---"
They shushed me and smiled two wonderful smiles
As if they had just walked down the wedding aisle---
"We understand, Reb Gershon," Bracha joyfully said
"From all of our striving were these two names bred"
Boruch was blessed to have such a fine wife
His Bracha! ~ They together shared life
Contemplate
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
And did mine mind
wander to places be
on leaving grey mouths
behind back home
now alone ..
still I sit at a lake
in the park
named consolation
and contemplate ..
watching calm silver water
sliver into small waves.
I am in quiet ponder time
and wonder home.
The lake is noiseless
inert and filled with placid art
There is bird and tree diverse
in a landscape ornate.
A goose sails the lake
and pass me by
in a peaceful industry of
water under cloud
it is realistic theatre.
I stare and gaze
where the geese will sail to
and sleep tonite..
In a chance of reeds perhaps
At the lake I start to contemplate
are my little sisters
safe and warm home
do they have a plate to eat ?
a big brother dear
is always wanted near..
I hear their teasing giggles
when those doll faces
saw biscuits they knew
it was christmas
now I teardrop.
honk .. honk ..
the gander
makes a wed call
he is a contender
to mate new life
peace I feel
my strength is real
I see the juice of nature
I appreciate the go life
which God has dispensed
for me..
But far away i am
from state and homeland
in a land foreign and forlorn
I ponder on my imigrate
our jolly brigade
I correlate home
with mountain moving faith
on courage and hard prayer
I was selected
to leave my local on mission
to send money home
for nourish in my bornland
I crave the games we played
but here sedate I am
I reflect
on my fatherland
though now I live in mercy land
with ocean distance
and now
I contemplate
going home
here at lake
Consolation.
Downtown moody boulevard chaos with
geometric grid shaped layout and contrasting
zones some fashionable clapperboard happy
comfy with creepin Bougainvillea outer walls
and others dark and lonely dog dirt proud – San
Francisco with its great fishing net big catch clam
mix of Chinese, Mexican, Red Indian stock, the down
and dowdy, the rich and radiant the haves and want
to haves and the opium red eyed living dead – they’ve
been heading out this way for years seeking their
fortune from the early gold rush days and Barbary
coast dwellers, the out of town chancers, all looking
for a free piece of pie, everyone wants the deal, everyone
wants to win on the dollar wheel – walking downtown
along Fisherman’s Wharf with it crab steam pots and
chowder sit easy squats and the huge swaying mass of
touristy camera clicking lot, walking down Obese Pacific
Highway thinking about America land of make it, use it,
chuck it, heaps of expendable disposable commodities –
visited City Lights bookstore shrine where Ferlinghetti
printed Ginsberg’s Howl and the whole Beat Generation
kicked off with the free flow thinkers so new and daring
think Pollack in words so brave and loose now faded with
ghosts of Kerouac and Burroughs in every shadowy bar –
big visit to Frisco Museum of Modern Art and introduction
to Sam Taylor Wood and Ralston Crawford keeping the
flame alive. Yosemite was a silent mountain contrast
hiking 5000 ft to elevated waterfalls on the trail of the
lonesome pine – then along the coast of grow anything
Santa Barbara, Santa Maria, Santa Monica and sacks of
Santa Claus goodies. Looking forward to Big Sur and
more Kerouac dream connections. Not looking forward
to flying home, could stay her, would stay here, if I was
rich or carefree with time, or daring and loose.
Across this world where oceans lie,
There lives a girl whose smile has caught my eye.
Though we have never met, just she and I,
Her light still reaches me though time divides.
She’s shy at times and speaks in gentle tone,
Yet when she smiles the quiet world turns bright.
Her kindness warms me though I’m here alone,
A distant star that softly lights my night.
Bella writes a quiet “chào” just for me,
And suddenly the miles don’t feel so far.
Though oceans stretch as wide as they can be,
Her smile still reaches me from afar.
So though our hands have never touched before,
Bella’s smile is what I’m hoping for.
Forget the First 48, how ‘bout the first 30 days, smh.
How is it that the House that has ALL the control is so out of control?
How is it that we got an elderly grandfather acting like a kid with a new case of ink pens?
With less than two weeks on the job and with all that is going on in the country, how is attending the Super Bowl a priority, and riding around the Daytona 500 racetrack benefiting our country? It's more like a senior citizen acting like a 12 year old that has never been let outside as a child.
Because of the Musketeers and the disarray, this "house" has more lawsuits piled up in the first 30 days than the days in the month. People not knowing what’s the deal, so many court cases and appeals.
The amount of disrespect and threatening to take away federal fundings from states who don't wanna play and do what you say, is wrong on so many levels.
How are things great or even better when so many people are getting a "You fired" letter?
Inflation, allegations, discrimination, immigration, mass deportations, ICE not so nice…
Thirty days, what a splatter, even his supporters doesn’t matter. Now what are they to do, when they are the ones being let go too. You was a fan, did you think you were exempt? Thousands upon thousands are being fired, now they are left wondering who else is hiring. Prices are soaring, eggs are $37.00 a dozen…
Mishandling, dismantling... FYI, no DEI, they coming for the CFPB, the NOAA, FAA, USAID, Medicaid (CMS), no appreciation for the Dept of Education, the NIH, the DoD, the CDC, the IRS in a big mess, EPA, FDA, the VA, FEMA, NASA and even more in store.
You knew what kind of chaos it was the last time so I don’t know why anybody is surprised. Awww, and you thought it was going to be better the second time around. Well, all I can say is, there is Power in Prayer.
Buckle up... and to think, this is only the first 30 days, smh.
A child pulled from her mother's arms
and placed into a cage.
How could a person seeing this
not feel enormous rage?
Instead, the mother, full of fear
and shocked with disbelief,
thought what she said or how she looked
had brought about this grief.
Was it because her clothes were torn,
her shoes had come apart?
She had been walking miles and miles
in search of a fresh start.
Was it because her skin was brown,
her face was stained with tears?
Was it because she looked too old
for twenty-seven years?
Would she hold her child again,
kiss her as she slept?
Would she see her timid smile,
caress her when she wept?
Or, would she miss those childhood years
not meet her until she'd grown?
Then, would the child think her Mama
was someone never known.
How can this be happening?
Where is our country's heart?
Why aren't more of us standing up?
Instead, we stand apart.
The mother sits with others
who are old beyond their years.
She bears her grief in silence now,
her legacy is tears.
He put to sea west south-west
in a small cabin amidships -
stole away in an unknown quest,
salty ocean brine wet on his lips
In the fires of smoke and light
Neptune raised his trident,
and led safe passage in the night
as stormy seas grew more violent
Into locks and narrow canal tide
the gates of Panama ahead,
betwixt two oceans a great divide,
“no turning back now” a voice said
Starboard to port, stern to bow -
the turbines below deck on.
He’d be back someday, somehow
but alas not for a long time gone
He saw the waves pound so high
and scowl of tempest wind,
until shadows off her bow slip by
in the playground of the dolphin
As a warm ocean breeze rolled in
he’d hear that droning hull -
feel the pitch of the sea in motion
and watch the albatross and gull
Ahoy, a long way from land afar
into the Tasman a sea rover.
No longer shone the Northern Star
but soon his journey would be over
The blue lagoons at Tahiti’s door
lay far from his island home -
like Columbus and Magellan before
in foreign lands not unlike his own
South Sea islands we bid farewell
deep into southern latitudes -
lifeboat drills did sound the bell
lest we sail a sea of vicissitudes
“Last port of call” I mused aloud
as over the ship ropes toss.
O’ Land of the Long White Cloud
sailed I on the SS Southern Cross
Written: July 1994
There is cancer surging through my veins
Leaving the most excruciating pain
I feel the decay
Taking away
All of the things
I wanted to claim
I can't explain
What it's like to be outside of sane
So lets use our brain
To try and maintain
The only thing
That makes us tame
We walk down the street
with a smile at full beam
that way we seem
like we can be a team
But the things I see
Are not really we
It’s I versus you versus the whole damn country
We are at the point where ICE versus immigration is like seasonal hunting
You find this funny?
God damn you’re a dummy
Your bloodline is scummy
How could you see this and not do something
Poetics Poem 5
********(Mimesis)******
Dear Aristotle, where, then,
Do the Arts fit?
You say each of them
Falls to mimesis, but their works, to me,
Erupt into present moments
Wearing immediate faces - not masks -
Speaking their own lyrics
Without consideration of what came
Before or will come afterwards,
Presenting a stage for dialogue...
Opening platforms for exchange.
The artworks begin anew each time
The audience receives impressions
Or as the works are relived repeatedly,
They may bring new strokes, viewed as
Potentially new and not, as you say,
“Imitations of imitations.”
Inspiration feeds the audience
As well as the artists, and all
Of time moves to
Impress upon the exchanges.
(C) sally Young Eslinger 2/22/20