Long Refugee Poems
Long Refugee Poems. Below are the most popular long Refugee by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Refugee poems by poem length and keyword.
I sat there as yet another
refugee looked at me
and ran me down
with the statement
Your ancestors invaded
Australia your ancestors
invaded New Zealand
yet what a racist statement
what is the difference today
with the refugees coming into
Australia what is the difference
with the refugees coming into
New Zealand
are you not escaping
the problems of your own country
just like our ancestors escaped theirs
my Ancestors where Scottish
wealthy landowners drove thousands
of Scottish people, off the land
thousands of Scottish people
Who had worked the land for centuries
had their land stolen from beneath their feet
"Chieftains became absentee landlords
interested only in the extraction of rents"
Blackfaced sheep were found
to be hardy enough to live
in the harsh conditions Of Scotlands
highlands
Thousands of Scottish people
that had ploughed the fields
and tended the crops
were driven from their homes
and had to face the daunting
sea voyage in cramped and miserable
conditions to face an un-tamed country
where people had no laws
where one wrong step
could destroy a persons life
New Zealand, where the Maori
had the own warriors skills
their own type of martial arts
where the welcome of the Maori
the Harka would scare a football team today
having been driven from their land
We all need food to survive
New Zealand was known as
the cannibal Islands of the South pacific
Now perhaps you want to re-write history
Yes it was your country
you have a right to be proud
of your Ancestors
wars broke out because
both sides did not understand
each other, wars broke out
because of greed, anger, love
but we also have a right
to be proud of our Ancestors
Men and woman going out to face
impossible risks
because they had no choice.
"La Voz"
La Noche sin agua --- I spill my loving lips
Dancing, laughing, and celebrating life
I am his queen, aka' dulce Nina
A night he must not forget
Lunesta ... Suave ...
He savors every moment;
Then questions my capabilities
Suddenly I feel like a refugee in my own house!
History and bad company, repeating itself
He wants to ruin the beauty of leadership
America on top, Latinos on the bottom
"Legally," he says, he'll welcome me
Law-abiding, I pass the proper speech
Stereotyped every time I share my race
Casting my poor nationality under the Rio Grand,
A wall too tall, in which my people continue to build
After I give him my all
Children, love, support
The best tortillas in the house
He offends a lifetime of memories
I'm a skillful woman, I dance with no music
I love to work, I take the field
Picking cotton, like there's no tomorrow
I will continue to paint rainbows
And enjoy every color in my garden.
Today, I've forgotten what Mexico looks like
However, that does not cut him from
accusing my race of planting too many trees
Calculating, calling Latinos criminals,
Forgetting his sin, he wants to win
Insinuating we're robbing the American Dream
This is where I belong!!!
Go ahead and build more republicans
I'm already on the side I want to be
Born and raised in the USA
~*~
Caring for others
Listening to others
Seeking their attention
Valuing their opinions
All these are good
But when they grew
To the extent of
Caring less for you
Careless for yourself, rather,
You should feel you are out of track.
You become their opinion.
Their thought
Their mouthpiece
Their nonsensical mirror!
How long this should go on?
How long should you become
A stranger to your very self
A refugee to your own house
Come back to your self
Come stay with you the person
Neighbors can feed you
Hug you; caress you;
They cannot just fix you.
Your being fixed with you
Or remaining unfixed
Depends on your self-fixing...!
21 July 2022
A boy’s tears are distensible, like a brittle platter
embodying the face of rejection.
He collapses into the opposite of a child,
his hands in soot, trembling around a book.
Knowledge has no place in the mind of one who begs
to be fed, who escapes life like a skip button,
and bids his future into a refugee camp.
The quiet act of peace is the noise inside his dreams—
the raven’s voice telling him, Believe. Believe in today for tomorrow.
And by the wall where he hides to read, where he manifests freedom,
he clings to drawings, rehearsing his tracks back to a home
void of his name, its people, its purpose, its creation.
With his fingers, he traces humanity back to Eden,
to where water flowed without parting ways.
What do forgotten things know about justice?
If peace mutated the first time the sun hit Mars,
would the Earth still flutter?
Who passes rights onto a species?
Are we not all specimens walking into divagation,
laid on tumultuous eruptions, unable to see our toes
through our eyes?
If trees could water themselves, you think they would
dream of becoming fountains?
We have been reliving freedom like chickens birthing eggs—
endlessly, redundantly.
Until when will this wish be granted?
The boy knows grief as rebellion against his thoughts,
where bullets and bombs are not the only things
calling his death to nothingness.
For any living thing, to dream is grace.
And destiny, we know, malfunctions its way into adulteration.
So let him seek peace in the ways he wishes—
to free a bird from its cage,
to grasp in chaos and name it inspiration,
to be utterly mad and call it poetry.
Let him.
Here comes my girl, but she don't come around here no more
I need to know, did we breakdown?
Even the losers say, "Don't do me like that."
You don't know how it feels to be a refugee at Mary Jane's last dance
I need to know, did we breakdown?
Even though the waiting is the hardest part, I won't back down
You don't know how it feels to be a refugee at Mary Jane's last dance
As I listen to her heart, I'm free fallin' into the great wide open
Even though the waiting is the hardest part, I won't back down
Something in the air tells me, "You got lucky."
As I listen to her heart, I'm free fallin' into the great wide open
Instead of runnin' down a dream with my American girl, I'm learning to fly
Something in the air tells me, "You got lucky."
Even the losers say, "Don't do me like that."
Instead of runnin' down a dream with my American girl, I'm learning to fly
Here comes my girl, but she don't come around here no more.
Tom Petty songs:
Here Comes My Girl
Don't Come Around Here No More
I Need to Know
Breakdown
Even the Losers
Don't Do Me Like That
You Don't Know How it Feels
Refugee
Mary Jane's Last Dance
The Waiting
I Won't Back Down
Listen to Her Heart
Free Fallin'
Into the Great Wide Open
Something in the Air
You Got Lucky
Runnin' Down a Dream
American Girl
Learning to Fly
4/13/18
The land where olive trees used to grow
Now is all just rivers of blood flow,
The eyes had sparks that they hold
Now has vanished as history unfolds
The mother screams in pain
But for people who are deaf, it's all in vain,
The father carries his child with blood on his hands
And with eyes half blind he carries sacks of sand
They smile with tears
They hear screams with open ears,
Losing their consciousness they still take his name (almighty)
Where the world stands silent and completely the same
Doctors under torchlights
Journalists under landslides,
Kids by the roadsides
And they still have hope in their darkest night
Where we cry for days seeing a family member die due to age
They smile at their child's grave
Their heart shines bright as gold
And their destinies are written and told,
This is not a test for them
They were destined, as the greatest choose their fate
And it's a test for us which we need to pass before it’s too late
Kids without hands and legs
Babies taking their last breaths,
Children without brains in their heads
& the world without a heart in their chest
A land that held beauty and life is now a graveyard with
Human bodies, more than bees in a hive
The world stands in silence and as they cry for justice
And yet we say we are humans,
Kids with no future
Teens with no dreams
Yet they crave Allah's acceptance and no other griefs
As no light, the sun shines bright
And the moon at night,
The sky cries as it hears the voice of the thearsts
And indeed Allah sees us
They fight alone in this cursed world
The war brings floods of blood,
And yet they say ya Allah
Alhamdulillah laillaha illallah
A land of harmony all are dead
Yet even animals are treated and fed,
Today we are too lazy to bow once
In front, on soft carpets and cool air
They pray six times with deaths they bear
Palestine a land of olive trees is now all dead thanks to genocide
And a ceasefire they say
Pain is not for those who are dead,
But for those who smell their scent
And live without families under refugee tents.
Where is one human life worth more than another
Protest a killing, even consequences of the killer
You shout freedom those rape your babies
Who murdered, love one you bury six deep
Are we not free to do or told only one child
Thief cost you fingers, a bullet to well deserve
Our own pockets lined, looking easy way
While elderly robbed and anyone gullible weak
Socialist young, running free belt you spare
Don't believe guns, how you going defend
Walking out door, capped in ass
While evil rule dead, cowards fall begging knees
Look countries, refugee to war torn hunger
Beat like slaves control regime children lost
Parents die, hearts young harden hatred harvest
Is so much believe in a God of good sake humanity
Only choice your actions idiotic without concept
You thought before you did makes premeditated
Socialism, you no longer own what you earn
But deep pockets live extravagant life you dream
Once our love was so luscious and fragrant like lilac
And we glided through life’s waves as in a kayak
Softly singing sweet duets, we danced in delight
With tender touches, we turned doubt into might.
We were then a pair of floating and soaring doves
Warming on wintry days under weathered wooden eaves
Once we used to sway and swirl in pleasure,
In synchronized steps to the rising and lilting measure.
But how soon I lost the rhyme n’ rhythm of life
Dropped into a weary world with worries rife,
I became a deflated and decimated balloon
A broken reed, hard to be brought back to tune
I had no clue why you had so hastily and stealthily left me
I found myself drowning in a dreary sea
I have been under despondent delusion and deep despair
Thought, our love was cracked and wrecked beyond all repair
Until you let me know what had transpired behind the scene
And told, you still love me and look longingly to make me your queen
To keep everything a sweet surprise for me and for everyone,
You went to a far foreign land for a living, but had none
On false charges, got detained and delayed in a refugee camp
Where you had access to none, was taunted and treated like a tramp
Now that you have a decent job and can stand on your feet
You would come to take me as your wife and would soon retreat
Now I count my days and weave dreams on dreams
Of the time you will come to darn the torn and tattered seams
And proudly proclaim once more in my attentive ear
That you are my devout darling, my legitimate lover
Once you come, stay with me and let us sip love’s sweet elixir
Never let me fall into despair’s dirty hold and make me shiver
Stay with me, stitching my shattered soul into a complete whole
Together let us tread tireless, holding hands and move to our goal.
I got water and weed
I'm richer' n richer
I ain't in need of cash
you can drop me your trash
gonna make me an art
for the East Jesus shrine.
Hear this from a wizard
ole Stalin is the man
red dolphins are the truth.
Plastic legs on the roof
of my old pink Chevy
(not been to the levee)
Barbie girls, haunted dreams,
painted rats and crosses;
all singing at the Range.
Slab City; nothing's strange
a show called Jester J**z
sings semen has declined.
Blue pig fortune tellers
in yellow school busses
grow purple-flowered weeds,
sell early traded beads.
The wind howls, the dogs bark;
the dreamcatcher misses.
I chase empty beer cans
for one that might be full
use ultraviolet lamp
in Pink Flamingo camp
I am just another
wandering refugee
Snowbirds come in winter
UPS delivers.
Past Salvation Mountain
there's no soda fountain
for those that don't believe;
head back to Babylon.
A Student of Love (for Life)
Chapter 1:
I’ve found stagecoach to love is a pumpkin on wheels
whose door opens for you when your guard’s at low ebb,
and you dare to step in (though all magic is sin).
I had gone to the opera with an old flame,
a pre-dinner on opening night - ‘La Boheme.’
Room with round tables seating ten patrons of art.
As my ‘date’ spoke at length to cute gal on his left
I had ‘green light’ to talk with the guy on my right,
found meals’ courses well-seasoned with sharing of heart.
He had taught several years near the land of my birth.
I’d spent time as a refugee near his hometown.
He was open, attentive! Asked, shared my cell phone,
(not that common for me with each number correct).
He was white, my skin brown. There were friends he was with,
a school friend from his college, her daughter, between
them. Both women quite plausibly viewed as his wife.
Facts explain, I think now, why my ‘date’ let things ride.
With two children near grown, and no man by my side,
I was truly not aching for trouble in life.
If my ‘date’ had designs, they wore colors less green;
kids are flies in the ointment of wealth and can seethe
at dilution of parent’s estate (disconnect!)
So I balked when he called, though my heart wasn’t stone,
his soft reaching out touched me, did not dress me down
when I failed to respond. But his voice expressed mirth,
our connection affirmed (that he’d felt). Then the part
where he came to my workplace (I ducked out of sight
till he’d gone). Loved my business, close friends, not bereft.
Does a woman need man, fish in sea needs a cart?
But to love is a choice! Choice is rarely a whim
and I sensed there was chance for a choice here, to tame
not to own. With my boys, might this prospect be win?
Separated, loved still by their dad, I had web
strands to clear, and a break loomed ahead of all deals.
Krakatoa Kritic #007
June 28th, 2021