Long Melting pot Poems

Long Melting pot Poems. Below are the most popular long Melting pot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Melting pot poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Mein Kampf My Struggle

…the seeds of neo-Nazism are germinating  
Markus Nierth, former mayor of Tröglitz, Germany 2015

Germany’s rock candy windows and cookie like shingles make seeing the oven inside impossible. At first, the obsessive compulsive cleanliness of Nuremberg’s post-WWII streets is a joy. For a child of the melting pot, born after The Big One, it’s painful to recall the grimmer aspects of the Third Reich with their proposed eugenics. Nuremberg [rebuilt] roots in an elitist past hiding behind half-timbered houses of wattle and daub. Once the seat of the Holy Roman Empire seeped in power, then, a base for Hitler’s wunderkind rallies—now a soul-blighted bloom, a minor stop on the tourist trail.

Street walking pedestrians—the silent middle, staid, detached—stroll or bike along paths, immersed in white dreams. The pogroms of terror, stolen homes, and bridges made from Jewish Cemetery stones lie beneath layers of pristine paint and plaster. The Jews victimized for centuries, and the war trials, a mere subtext to tour guide chatter. 

xenophobia 
tamped down like an ash banked fire 
waits to rise again 
on a bellows breath of rage
spray painted on railroad cars

The site of my pilgrimage, The Palace of Justice—walled in panels of ashen mahogany—retains a dour mien. Judges, jurors and those to be tried, still use this hall. After-images of skeletal camp dweller and vain glorious generals rise wraith-like from the polished surfaces, paneling, pews, and copings. Greek God’s glower. A bronze crucifix castes judgment on all who pass: God fearing, or atheist. Justice is not present; horrors are not passed and conscience is now presented to the world as a fanatic in a suicide vest.
 

First Published in Artificium UK 2016
Form: Haibun


Premium Member It Was All an Illusion

  
      All a mirage, an aberrant illusion
        acceptance in America
           professionally, socially
       we even became sought-after marriage partners…

     Educated people seemed to appreciate us
        to value us, to turn to us for advice 
     We became country clubbers, jet-setters
        priding ourselves in having ‘them’ as good friends  

     Leaving our hallowed traditions far, far behind
        we melted perfectly into the melting pot
     secure in our newfound prosperity
        comfortable in the halls of power

     Before too long, we had become ‘them’
        indistinguishable our values from theirs
     our temple services, organ and all, like theirs
        their food became our food, their sons our sons-in-law
           their daughters, the mothers of our grandchildren… 

     And sure enough, soon enough, ‘they rebelled’ 
        for we had drawn too close, we invaders
     and they began to talk among themselves of our outsized ‘influence’
        of our ‘domination’ of the financial professions
            all the old canards…

      And now that they have snapped 
         we are once again no longer wanted
      no longer do we frequent their inner circles
          we are openly excluded, cursed at, spat at, assaulted

      Not to overdramatize what, after all, is to be expected
          we will be leaving soon
       we, the ever-wandering Jews
           it was all an illusion

But That Is Life In Glasgow

The impressive buildings on the Glasgow sky
Compliment life on the River Clyde
With its many secrets it cannot hide
But that is life in Glasgow.

From the understated Squinty Bridge
And George Square to Buchanan Street
Makes it hard for a "Weegie" to leave
But that is life in Glasgow.

A "Weegie" takes the good and bad
Supporting a British with Scottish flag
And tension flows between the clans
But that is life in Glasgow.

It's music and it's celebrity stars
Do not hide its gangster past
No such thing as a "Weegie" facade.
But that is life in Glasgow.

Glasgow life gets under your skin
The richness of a life it brings
A melting pot of good and sin
But that is life in Glasgow.
© Peter Hall  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Plastic Trees

I'm walking through plastic trees
They hold up their facade as if I don't know
But they're far more real
Than common sense masquerading as progress

Their ever green leaves stand in stark contrast
To the golden brown, orange, and yellow leaves of their peers
So they stand up straighter 
As if height makes them honest

Pluck a leaf and it feels like wax melting in your palm
Inorganic and intolerable it should be thrown
This forest is a melting pot of phonies and victims
Calling on the sun to decipher righteousness

Perhaps if one took a shovel and dug into the ground
The shocking revelation is in the roots of every tree
The roots of the plastic trees are the same as all the rest
Beneath it all we're all truly the same

Premium Member Cultural Crux

Is there anything you root for in our garden now? 
Must I cultivate it to make it grow? 
Can't seed so many plots, I know.

Is there anything you savour in our melting pot now? 
Seasons changed, and our flavours compound, 
True essence to distil.

Blinded by what familiarity steeps 
You know our brew only too well, you see. 
I taste bitterness, you drink me.

Remember, 
The days when cultures were raw, 
Just fresh and jubilantly spicy?
Where exactly did that zest go? 
Preserved, yes. 
Unspoiled, no! 

Simmered away as steam from a kettle, 
Aromas mingled over. 
Vaporous, hardly distinguishable.

Whatever happened to our cultural bouquet? 
Trying to bottle it is so hard.

Is there anything you relish in our feast now?
These days our palates just don't know. 

We're still simmering.
 Taste! Taste!


America Melting Pot

A land where all our dreams come true,
A place where we can start brand new,
Where opportunity can chase us down,
Lord have mercy, may you always be found.

For decades, we have praised Your name,
Our slogan, “In God we trust” brought us fame,
We need your help God in our towns,
Lord have mercy, may You always be found.

Moments of silence brought us peace,
Many people’s prayers have drastically decreased,
Have we forgotten who will always be around?
Lord have mercy, may You always be found.

America we are so great, why are so many filled with hate?
Keep your prayers, keep your God, he will be there when things get hard,
For sometimes we need to fall on the ground, 
Lord have mercy, may You always be found.

His eyes are always watching over us,
United we stand, it is an absolute must,
Gods grace always abounds,
Lord have mercy, may You always be found.

A venture, a journey, many pursuing a goal,
Our sweet country can touch every soul.
You can learn so much even when there is not a sound,
Lord has mercy, may You always be found.

Where ever you go whatever you do,
There is always someone that can teach you something new,
A mixing feast that is so profound,
Lord have mercy, may You always be found.


By: Sabina Nicole
Form: Kyrielle

Freedom Should Be Set Free

This world is a melting pot
People live in every spot
Of this earth where they can be
Living happily and free
But sometimes freedom isn't free
Others can be so nasty
With their ideas and issues
Causing pain for others who
Just want to live in peace without
All the anger that comes out
Of those who are so racist
Being rude and prejudice
Not liking when there's a couple
Who's sex is the same and double
It doesn't matter if there is
Two women who like to kiss
Or two men who's holding hands
Come on people, understand
Love is love and doesn't matter
What two sexes are together
Or the color of our skin
Shouldn't let someone begin
To judge because it's not right
What is the difference-black or white
We all share the same emotions
So what;s with all the commotion
Outside color shouldn't matter
We need to find a way to shatter
This type of strong feeling
That is always stealing
The freedom from other races
And give them the loving graces
That is deserved and so needed
Then this world will be completed
There is too much hate and violence
Taking small steps we can silence
And stomp out little by little
How others treat and belittle
Those who are unique in style
Because we are all worthwhile
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Terrorist Attacks

Stand tall New York, New York City Trade Centers, Financial buildings and U.S. planes. September 11,2002 The day of unknown terrorist attacks, Innocent hard working people. Individuals whose names varies fallen stars under the hands and plots of some self hatred and destruction. Fire fighters, policemen and women ready to protect and service. Many lost their lives  to the hands of hatred now lay under rubble at the hands of someone else’s destruction. courage, honors, tears , bravery. Much respect goes out to the victims and their families , numerous volunteers that a day of hope will be bestowed to The great City of New York that one day it will be rebuilt. The melting pot of the stars, stripes, the red, white, blue. Much respect is due and once again New York, New York this poem is dedicated to you and families affected. 9/25/2001
Form: Epic

An Evacuation Order

Folks living by the coast line
have been given an unpleasant evacuation order, not a warning,
" Evacuate immediately, Sandy is coming with rain 
and strong gusts...some of you will refuse to leave town,
standing on the beach watching
the hurricane's four feet tides rise....are you insane? "


The concerned cop on the loud speaker says,
" Take what you can and hop in your car and head for
the Evacuation Center...there you'll be safe! "
Hesitation persists on their stubborn faces...
" Take your kids to a safer place, food and clothes will be available! "
An elderly woman screams, " Listen to him and go! "
I have seen a dozen storms, but hurricane Sandy is a vicious name!"
" Go, don't let any children shake and ramble! "


Randy has already hit the Jersey shore,
and slowing moving up to New York's Harbor;
another exodus from this Melting Pot
that once was struck by a terrorists' attack... 
now, a Natural Disaster. " Sins of wicked people! "
That preacher on Third Avenue shouts while ringing a bell,  
" Turn to God and He will not punish anyone anymore! "
" Shut up!" A punk smoking crack tells him..." Who's this God
whom you are talking about? Why is he so angry and uses the rod? " 
I was His child, but today my master is the Devil! "


When hurricane Sandy comes, I won't be waiting for vicious killer winds,
be blown away as glass shatters and rooftops fall;
I will be safe in my home, praying for the ones in danger.
" Everyone listen and heed, hurricanes are no jokes...pack your belongings
and flee to safety! Isn't it life-threatening to all?"
I grab the car keys and off I go with uncombed hair.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Wall Street and the Serengeti

On the one hand, there is a remarkable beauty                                                                                      in watching one entity blend into the environment
of a different entity.  On the other hand, there is less                                                                                                     
to be appreciated about assimilation if it results in the                                                                                   
destruction, disappearance,  or utter annihilation of that entity.

In the world of nature, on one hand, one considers that, of necessity, the sheer                                              
essence  of 'survival'  is largely at play. On the other hand, in the sociological world of mankind, the blending or assimilation becomes not an 'instinct to survive tool', but rather  a remarkable 'melting pot' for advancement in human development.

Whether wall street or boxing ring, we compete and fight to the finish; but we never eat each other; (Well, except for the Holyfield-Tyson fight). On the one hand, there is exhilarating satisfaction to be found when we observe camouflaging in the rain forest or in the kingdom of the wild.  But on the other hand, except for the camouflaged soldiers at war,  in communities of the civilized, we take exception  to those choosing to wear masks or appear to be something they are not.  

There is a distinctly different expectation  and purpose that require the maintenance and maturity of character.  On the one hand, in a civilized society, when such expectancy fails, the lines of demarcation are drawn and defended. On the other hand, in The Serengeti of Tanzania and Kenya, 
no one is expected to protect the wildebeests and Zebras from the alligators  and crocodiles. There, it is the natural state of things; lines are not drawn and neither required nor desired.
08062017TGPSContest, Late Summer Standard, Brian Strand
Form: Prose

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace