Long Pogrom Poems
Long Pogrom Poems. Below are the most popular long Pogrom by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pogrom poems by poem length and keyword.
It only takes one bad orange
To spoil the entire basket
This is true and strange
It only takes one narcissistic nut
To burn down the whole block
Very often the bully will mock
The minority and the destitute
It takes one infected prostitute
To contaminate the whole country
This is sad, scary, and crazy.
It only takes a cretinous one
To fool the uneducated pools
To mess-up the brain of other fools
This is an unusual season
Where civility and decency
Are thrown off the balcony
Countless innocent citizens
Are hurting. This is a chaotic jungle
Where the worst, the biggest eagle
Rules like over-zealous fans.
It only takes one rotten orange
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury
This is incredible, spooky and strange
It only takes one felon to corrupt the country
Our world deserve better leaders
Our world needs no hate-mongers
Our world needs no tax cheaters
Our world needs no corrupt schemers
Our world needs no nefarious actors
Our world needs no bloody monsters
Our world needs no sorry conspirators
But decent citizens and fair prosecutors
Convicted felons or criminals belong in jail
They need to be living with Satan in Hell.
It only takes one stupid slogan
To start the expulsion, the execution
The pogrom and the annihilation
Of so many good men, women, and children
Why is it so easy to do bad things?
Good deeds do not take place every day
The wise parrot no longer hums and sings
Unity. We can simply mourn and pray.
Copyright © June 2018, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
So many young men go off to war smiling, spirits high
Too many return in boxes, folks asking 'Why?'
The leaders who sent them off speak of heroism and sacrifice
Easy for them, these fancy words, when others risk their life
We say that freedom isn't free, that blood is the price of liberty
But is any country really worth a soldier's life, the ultimate fee?
An Israeli general was asked this question and it stopped him cold
For a long minute... when he answered, in a voice quavering and bold
That in Kishinev 50 Jews were slaughtered in a pogrom back in 1903
And the whole world, outraged, cried out against that violent insanity
Yet just 40 years later, in Hitler's crematoria, Jewish blood seemed cheaper
As the general hugged me tight, I understood what he could weep for
The faces of the tom-toms were sallow,
So was the face of the sun, dark-visaged,
Red, and starved through a pogrom
That assaulted the peace of the beasts.
Darkness spelt the names of diseases,
Each pronounced through stiffened tongues,
Whited by the scourge of hate – a common
Figure, cadaverous and laconic, but incestuous.
Grieving rivers sought ways to be rechristened
Or rebaptized by holy rills with less fetor, as
Long as riparian languages were still spoken on
Breaths of brooks, broken, but gathered in bits
By hands that leaned on fermented soot only.
And darkness persisted, perspiring from hostile
Beats of hollow drums when fire reaches them
From tormented skies.
One truth loomed: the truth of a disvirgined
Destiny, clothed in serrated raiment of grief.
On its crown, shredded petals of holocausts
Form toothless thorns shaped like lightning.
Death was prominent, dispirited, and hung loose
On strings smelted on anvils raging from heinous
Rape of a blooded land. Shores wept with humour
When our frightened coasts sneezed with mirth.
I speak of Biafra where the land still bleeds
I recall that vision, of a crowded city,
Where signs were hung in heaven,
Where voices were muted by the colour of bold words.
One hundred eighty one days ago today,
Jews began their day, as usual in every way.
Jumped out of their beds and prayers. were said.
They dressed and fixed coverlets on their beds.
Mothers cooking breakfeast…but not for very long.
As killers with bullets ended their morning songs.
Safe Rooms were to be a place to run and hide,
But many were killed instantly in this crimson tide.
These people, living in peace and loving harmony,
Were slaughtered,not significant enough for poetry?
Their older children at the Nova concert for peace,
Met death at dawn or were taken hostages, like sheep.
And while we get our trophies and POTDs’
Jews and Americans still hostages, are important to me.
1,200, savagely killed, the morning of October Seventh.
By methods, so heinous, and were dispatched to heaven!
The sadness, has never left my Noahide, weeping soul.
But to have others, never forget,is a significant life’s goal.
This was a horrid, bloody, pogrom in my very own lifetime..
And loss as horrid as this, is to be remembered is soulful rhyme.
4/7/2024