Short Campaigns Poems
Short Campaigns Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Campaigns by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Campaigns by length and keyword.
Andrew Jackson, people's president,
A drop out from school environment,
At voting campaigns,not a statement,
"Vote me,ok,ok " said he,in infant's jargon,
Voted people, ok, and voted Jackson!
Spring
becomes
aggressive
as it campaigns
for the earth to spurt
forth resplendent colors
splayed in intricate patterns
that display the vibrancy and
toughness of reemerging flora.
Inspiring era of new beginnings!
"Maga agenda 25" is a misnomer
and yet it is repeated ad nauseum,
but as Kamala Harris once said
"Young people ... are stupid."
Missing context or not
political campaigns are fraught
with snippets that don't mean squat,
but cause significant thought rot!
So Trump’s been shot, the circus goes on
The campaigns continue, the amusement’s gone
What will happen next, will Biden step down
Will the DNC implode, will the country break down
__________________________________________
DNC = Democratic National Convention
Every leader is a Poet
campaigns by light poetry
delivers speeches in metaphors
loads satires on opposition
paints fallen ones with ironies
praises success in rhymes
presents challenges in narratives
answers questions in poetic prose
When ejected from power,
sings elegiac lyrics and epics
laments in limericks
writes regime history in idyll
When dead, tomb carries epitaph
Money to fund wars but no money to feed
the hungry
Money to fund their campaigns but no
money to feed the hungry
Money to fund their secret agendas but no
money to feed the hungry
Money to send satellites into outer space
but no money to feed the hungry
They're power hungry money hungry but
don't give a damn about the hungry
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka
The Green Poet
Money to fund wars but no money to feed
the hungry
Money to fund their campaigns but no
money to feed the hungry
Money to fund their secret agendas but no
money to feed the hungry
Money to send satellites into outer space
but no money to feed the hungry
They're power hungry, money hungry, but
don't give a damn about the hungry
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka
The Green Poet
I anticipate
the marching campaigns
of your fingertips,
the mapping of vexed trails
to be conquered
those relentless, lawless, crusades
over every sensitive summit.
You've built empires
over my every nerve
and toppled each
with gratifying urgency.
Ah! My Lover,
my one man Dynasty
the way you command my passion
and possess the whole of my flesh
in the palm of your hand
is a vanquishing to be relished...
I'll never surrender.
The world is of many,
Young, old, rich and poor.
Yet some have no more than a penny,
But the rich still desire more.
Some have access to everything,
They are surrounded by maids and riches.
Yet most are surrounded by nothing,
And find themselves living under bridges.
Governments do the opposite of protect,
Greed and wealth run through it's veins.
The poor it constantly neglects,
Yet it charms them during untruthful campaigns.
Form:
My grandfather held many scars
from Anzac Cove to Belgian mud
he never said a word to us
but went to work each day
patched soldiers worse than him.
My father faced towards the past
and kept his war to himself
until the weight of what he saw
made him another broken man
no one could reach him there.
We watch TV and want to know
the victories, campaigns and more
how men sailed out adventurers
to see the world at war's expense.
What turned them into shaking ghosts?
north
rises,
creative
bursts of glory
Napoleon’s dream of faroff campaigns
chaotic scribbling, flamboyant plans at
the speed of light
all night long,
unused
sleep
south’s
freefall,
energies
once great, abate
under inescapable gravity,
black hole of suicide-ideation
predicted, this
nightfall of
Jekyll’s
mood
dip
into
the sugar
addicted brain,
amitalkingtoofastforyouagain?
justdon’tcarewhattheysay--screw the Xanax
i’d rather feel
anything
than be
numb
The day before we cast our votes
I sit here and reflect
On how we make our choices
For the person we select.
We read the news, we watch debates,
We listen and we choose,
In hopes that if our nominee
Wins out, we’ve less to lose.
It doesn’t always work that way,
For anyone with brains
Must know we really cannot trust
What’s said in most campaigns.
Yet still, on this Election Day,
We’ll cast our doubts aside
And register our ballots
With our conscience as our guide.
Tennis on the television.
Heinous sneezes from my toddler.
Lettuce bits sprayed across our laps.
Menace to society's Joe the Waddler,
Arriving at the war zone toy room,
Deriving future campaigns in his mind.
Writhing within the haze of colored plastic he's
Diving into Roman ruins, covered in shiny blocks, laying supine.
In walks the 5-year-old
And our most decorated of soldiers.
Endowed with the wisdom to sleep in, she's now
Entwined with Daddy, smelling of warm bed and Folgers.