Long Refugees Poems
Long Refugees Poems. Below are the most popular long Refugees by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Refugees poems by poem length and keyword.
O' it's written in books and songs,
That we've been mistreated and wronged;
Well, over and over . . . .
Buffy St. Marie
As storm clouds rumbled in the sky
and thunder clapped giant hands another child was buried
just another cluster suicide death
she was ten years old . . .
First Nation peoples of Canada live in all parts noted on charts
some in places isolated
where fruit, vegetables and milk is expensive
limited, and of poor quality
housing is inadequate and in need of repair
full of mold, and bug infested where babies die
some have no water or contaminated water
some have no heat or meat
sad when you think Canada was THEIR land
(o' we are restless and discontent, dissatisfied and want better)
but in the early history of this fine country
they where hunted, killed, starved and unwanted
and herded into reservations
into submission, becoming dependent and in time gone their
resplendent culture . . . but still proud and strong
shame on the government of Canada willing to accept refugees
putting them in nice hotel rooms and finding them housing
when we have people living in horrible poverty conditions
shame, shame on you Mr. Prime Minister
in my solitude and musing
I imagine a warrior on a high cliff looking at a vast land
he sits proud under a dark cloud
such is the shame as Canada is a wealthy and healthy
country and the needs of the First Nation go on and on . . .
these are truly invisible people
today the government is working to right the wrongs
some say too little . . .
I can see a canoe's drifting beneath a limitless sparkling blue sky
and fish are jumping and leaping
then, my vision fades into an internal night
and another child is buried because of no hope
the PEOPLE are discontent and restless . . .
__________________
March 30, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/The Invisible People
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1008-937-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
It happened in May, 1948
Israel declared itself a new-old state
In hours it came under fierce attack
From Egypt, Jordan, Syria and Iraq
The four Arab states told their kin in Israel
Leave your homes, come to us. Here's the deal:
In three weeks or less, we'll push the Jews into the Sea
Then you'll return to your homes in triumphant victory
But little Israel turned the Arab attackers away
So what did Egypt and Jordan do within days?
They fenced their 'Arab brothers' in squalid refugee camps
Then blamed Israel(!) for causing them their murderous plans to 'revamp'
This is what happened. Read about it in the media of that day
If so, why do so many people support the PA?* --
Because the Arabs have lied about the refugees for so many years
That the truth has become sullied and is no longer clear
History will show that Israel is not to blame
The onus is on the Arabs, along with the shame
______________________________________________________
The PA are the Palestinian Arabs. Alternatively PA is the Palestinian
Authority, the self-governing entity of President Mahmoud Abbas in
the Gaza Strip.
Dead Aylan in this sprained beach of humane,
Embraces me but I've no
any guilt feelings!
Toll of knell is proclaiming all my guiltiness
but I'm in stillness of my job, I've
no guilt feelings!
No guilt feelings; no nightmare, I can
jeer at all your sacredness, cause I've no
guilty feelings!
no, no, no! I'm only true in world business!
Albatross of Mariners, the soul of Aylan!
No; I'm not!
Refugees, settlers are everywhere, can
die in my business pyre. I'm
the power, no guilt feelings!
Havoc morning of humanity I can bring!
Let them die in mourning song
of dwelling
I'm the trader, the business magnate
gear, guilt feelings in not in
my super power!
- October 15, 2018 Chattogram
In his mid-30s but still a boy
Given $14.50 an hour and 12 hour shifts
Six days a week
His driver’s license confiscated
For five slung beers over a night long ago
Cost him $10,000
Contributed to the system
Of judges bailiffs lawyers and Presidents
All residents
Of the lakes and new mansions up north on weekends
Five years it will take him
To pay them for his sin.
Out here on the way to work
There are no buses
So the boy joins a line of third world refugees
Walking an hour and a half a day
Each way
Through the sweat of summer
And the snow of winter
From Greatdale Apartments
To the soda pop company’s bottling plant
He limps down the shoulder of King’s Road
Texting a screen scream to his desperate dad
“I can’t do this anymore!”
This
The only demand the son can manage
While Escalades
Roar by him
Side mirrors whisking within inches of his elbows
The thought of the American Dream
Or even the idea of a violent union revolution
Pouring out of him
Like his 10 cent returns
After work at the Party Store.
If not burned
Hellas is burning the Athens is surrounded by invading fires
no modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
Greece is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
it doesn’t concern us, should it?
Further afield, people have too much water the drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber are matchboxes
for the rich to feels the heat, but does it make them kinder.
Of course, it has nothing to do with us, we who live in a place
where the breeze from the north Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
Come when Afghanistan is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
Resident Refugees…
Uprooted, abandoned and displaced;
scattered about in their own homeland—
Irrespective of gender, cultural or race,
the pursuit of happiness seems banned.
These are the ever-present invisible souls
whose living shadows flicker everywhere:
street corners, sidewalks, flag poles;
ignored as if they are not even there.
Not honored to be a vagabond or hobo;
nor a migrant in pursuit of the dream.
Each day of survival is a revolving skid row;
in the land of opportunity, life can be so mean.
As the sun shines from sea to sea in the land of the free,
homelessness is like being an un-caged nomadic refugee.
Over eight hundred Palestinian women and children held hostage by Israel
no charges, no crimes, an IOF soldier confessed, intimidation the goal
IOF using children as human shields
on Oct 7th IOF helicopters shot their own, as documented by Haaretz
at the exact same time, Palestinians were having their homes bull dozed
their land stolen
seventy fives years of de humanization
National geographic has a map of 1947
please have a look
then go read
Jimmy Carters books
the IOF snipers shot a woman and child in a church
think about that
life has no value, they care not who they kill
aid workers and reporters
fodder for their guns
Hannibal's directive you can not make this up
the Israeli Supreme court has spoken many times
a people who welcomed the European as refugees
soon to regret their kindness
Israel formed by terrorists, so lets condemn this terror
the true Semites of the land, Jews and rabbis
stand by their Palestinian brothers and sisters
holocaust families handing tissues, they saw it once before
now thousands of children slaughtered
you are witnessing evil first hand
seventy five years or horror and crimes
The nearer peace,more savage are the acts
Abhorrent to the atheist in us all.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks
As we whites did evil to the black
With little difference, hate for glory calls.
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
All of us can disremember facts
Israeli hands have gripped and then appalled.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks
As ,with Bomber Harris, Dresden packed
Burned like grass the refugees to ghouls
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
We deny the healing we have lacked
For Jesus' Jews we let be killed ,de-souled
History, undigested ,splits and sticks
Palestine’s own Arabs are ill ruled
And in return, explode like stubborn mules
The nearer love, the more the hatred whacks
History., inconceivable, directs
Climbing up the hill with his great Cross
The tortured God recalls his childhood days
Now he faces death and total loss
Did Jesus fear his mission and its cost
Would humans ever learn to see his way
Climbing up the hill with a great Cross
Crucified, beheaded, killed by us
John the Baptist, Jesus, Jews have paid
Did Jesus fear his Mission and its cost?
How we love the baby, yet we’re lost
Was it ever true that we are saved
Climbing up the hills with our own cross?
Where is God’s great spirit, Holy Ghost
Alienated from the human race?
Did Jesus fear his Mission and its cost
Shall we ever see that Holy Face
Onto refugees it has been placed
Climbing up the hill like Sisyphus
He repeats his actions, feels his loss
the end safety
No modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
The Med is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
we who do not travel watch the fire with awe
Further afield, people have too much water and drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber as matchboxes
For the rich to feel the heat, does it make them kinder?
Of course, it has nothing to do with us who live
where the breeze from the North Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
come when Outer Mongolia is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.