Migrants Poems - Poems about Migrants

American Migrants

Why do we give them employment
let them come here and build a new life
Never give them a permanent status
make them live on the edge of a knife

They pick most of the crops that we purchase
care for children, disabled and old
Yet they’re forced to survive in the shadows
live in silence, and do what they’re told

We are

Prison Wallpaper

Encage us we are of collective souls
Display us in prisoned wallpaper as ghouls
Send us into these sepsis tanks, in tin cans 
in torture dungeons, in faraway lands                      
Mistaken for us are the migrants 
who

Smuggler's Boat

Migrants on the move from violence
their only possession
breath-space on a smuggler’s boat
secured with back-bent harvests 
in pretzel-bent systems
weight of crates of strawberries 
hoisted on hell-bent backs
just trying to reach Spanish-shores’-east 
from Moroccan beach with a camel-mystique
—the seaway west of Africa 
a rags-wearing-flotsam grave

migrants on the move from Cameroon 
die —or survive 
a militia-cocktail blend of

Under the stars

Comrades, we still live under the stars for many years, People identify us Lankan Tamil refugees,                            No passport, no visa and no citizenship here's,    

Illegal Migrants

Illegal Migrants
Miracle Man
4/19/2024

Their sleeping bags and tents line each street,
making an eyesore of what once was neat.
The thing most unfunny,
we’re giving them money,
while our healthcare resources they deplete.

Metaphysical Migrants

Errant atoms
Running amok
Colloidal conspiracies
Intertwining
Wandering
Hidden
Behind the opaque
Mysteries
Of their being.

Jose Mendoza

Jose Mendoza, was a young migrant farmworker,
he was harvesting sweet potatoes on
Barnes Farming property in Spring Hope, 
North Carolina on September 5, 2023.
The temperature was in the 90's,
and Jose began to not feel well.

He went to rest on a bus used for worker
transportation to the fields,
the fields of labor under the unyieldng sun.
Jose came to

A Migrants Heart

I kept drifting, drifting, drifting, I wasn’t sure where I was going but I kept drifting. The winds set in my back spinning around my new frock and I kept drifting.

 I kept focusing ahead of me hoping to find some company but the empty street with grey dust spinning around stared courageously at me

Migrants Stepping Out

Regardless of culture,
of religion,
of national residency,
of gender,
of sexuality's vast pantheistic diversity,
of hemispheric prime presidency,

When humans step out of our shelters
into a riotously gorgeous
and fresh
perfect warm sunshine breezy
natural day,
we feel healing positive passion

Is what we have been needing
and what and/or whom
we are currently sacred graced
to feel and know 
in timeless compassion

And sometimes unclear 
yet pure dispassion
inflamed

The Migrants

It was an afternoon, I sat lonely;
And watching the horizon silently. 
Suddenly I watched a flock of birds flying in a straight way,
Perhaps to this nature, they were trying to say. 

Oh! they were so lucky indeed, 
Because they were free from human's gaol;
And each was so ebullient as a little kid,
The marvellous view touched

Just Another African

Just another African
Once full of sun and hope
Train to Venice from Milan
At the end of your rope
Horrors seen at just 19
Crammed onto a flatbed
Desert burning red
Human carrion in the sand
Oblivion near at hand
Beatings, rapes in Tripoli
Leaky tub on a rough sea
Peril all the way to Sicily 
Papers - “political refugee”
Even so, two years of no,

For Migrants No Other Choice

For Migrants No Other Choice

When we had heard voice after voice,
Containing crying making loud noise;
Heading here,
Still with fear;
Coming to America was only choice.

To arrive in America tried and tried,
And yet after all of this she still died;
Another migrant,
To heaven went;
No water supplied and father cried.

Jim Horn

Ambidextrous On Migrants

Liberal or conservative 
the questionnaire asks
about migrants.

Fred’s in the middle.
Asked about The Wall 
he writes that he sees 

nothing wrong 
with hungry illegals 
crossing the border 

looking for work and 
nothing wrong with
the Trumpeter Swan 

sending them home
as long as no one is 
killed in the process.

But okay to give them
Wyoming and Cheney.
Plenty of room.


Donal

Migrants

Tears upon tears. 
Cruelty upon misery. 
Swapping hell
 For the psychotic sea. 
Capsizing in infinite night. 
Empty silence now ruptured, 
As haunted faces 
That once knew kindness,
 Wail and scream. 
Kick and splash. 
Fighting their surrender 
To the murderous depths
 and then quietness falls. 
But for the groans of a forlorn mum.
 The score will

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