Short Dispossessed Poems
Short Dispossessed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Dispossessed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Dispossessed by length and keyword.
Alfred Otto Wofgang Schulz WolsW
they say was a bit of a lost soul
Unhappy dispossessed & disolute
but 'Composition X' we must salute
Politics; is the pursuit of power by the talentless,
To the detriment of the dispossessed majority,
By pandering to the greed of the controlling minority.
He was customarily of pristine attires dispossessed
In his eccentric shabby tunic dressed
People pondered why didn't he repudiate it
For they cohabited and so declined to quit.
Young Stan, the 'People's Man,' led a protest
'Gainst all the 'rape and pillage' by the West --
Demanded reparations
For indigenous nations --
His 'White Privilege' left Stan dispossessed
without anchor all ships
sail and without passenger
no captain exists to guide
the dispossessed. Only remains
of Peaceful Assembly can
be glimpsed in the association
of favoritism. A favoritism
of familiarity deflecting contempt
by means of ineptitude.
Of Gunas three, Tamas holds sway,
cajoling consciousness to rest,
though the child in us wants to play,
of zest and zeal we’re dispossessed.
Heart contracted and soul’s stance stooped,
we have been by lethargy duped,
yet like the Phoenix we may rise,
embracing each breath in surprise.
What do I care
When at me eyes stare
Or at me glare
And I safe from every snare?
Why should I ever care,
When you can’t hurt my hair
Or much worse things dare:
The Terrible the Unfair?
Begin I shall to care
With a dispossessed mare
Or a made-away ware
And I can’t find it anywhere.
A black cloud
rains selectively
on the dispossessed,
a wretched lot.
My billowing abaya
now clings to me,
revealing my form.
Their glances lacerate.
The road stretches
to the horizon,
but has swallowed
my expectations.
Palestine, 1948
First published in Blue Minaret
The finess of palm
Is marred by wrinkles
Through gold finger;
They sink into designer suit,
Emerge from the collar,
They intertwine into a dense web
Of confusion, lies,deceit, hate;
The eyes are like marbles,
Age stinks like death
Worse still without reason,
Yet he still finds season
To preside over an oppressed
And dispossessed people.
A winged horse
brought me a song
that became blue unicorn ...
The dispossessed rose
my heart pounded
with a raining pink love ...
I spoke to the stones
and they offered me heat
under a gray rain falling ...!
What comfort, lighthouse, in this automated age?
No welcoming glow from cottage windows,
no friendly keeper brewing tea,
just a cold white beam flaying the night.
Lighthouse, in deepest dark you stand a watch
as lonely as mine,
both turning vacant eyes to an uncompromising dawn,
both lonely daymarks for the dispossessed.
What comfort, lighthouse,
What comfort?
He is not just the one who lives in a street
But, that who has millions and eats beans
Then farts in a narrow spot in Wall Street
The one who has several ID's, names,
and passports with multiple loyalties
None of them is true
None of them is blue!
Who cannot use his real name nor identity
Like a mouse in dark night,
Roofless scared of others
Particularly dispossessed snakes, cats,
And generally many more ..
SOUL SPEAK
How does my soul speak to me
Not harsh, yet with firm intent
Almost like a persistent melody
With a structure, so well-meant
Its purpose isn’t so clear at first
If troubled, will be seeking calm
Sensing stillness, slakes its thirst
Using peace as comforting balm
Yet every soul knows its identity
Deep rooted, never dispossessed
And tells me what’s meant to be
To be prepared for eternal rest
Lest we forget
The face of evil
And deny the truth
Of history
Remember the victims
Who suffered and died;
Tormented, persecuted,
Dispossessed, taken captive,
Herded like animals
Into the crowded carriages
And transported
To the Nazi death camps.
Remember them
Remember them...
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2018. Posted on 6th September 2018.
Sun is high I cast no shadow
for few brief moments I am pure.
My soul enters Eden’s meadow
where once stood my progenitor.
A sinless psyche reveling
in a pre-transgression garden
thoroughly chaste is my being.
But now a penumbra widens
and a darkness within me grows
my pure essence is repossessed
replaced with subjective sorrow;
spiritualness dispossessed
by a shadow of damnation
and light my only salvation.
Down and out, destitute
In dire need , no help or
Support only war or dispute,
Poverty for those we adore,
Overlooked, become invisible
Spiritually and morally
Subjected to the impossible
Exploited so horribly
Societies lack of conscience
Subdue emotional control
Ending or to recommence
Dispossessing heart and soul.
8/9/2018
CONTEST NUMBER 1 - AN ACROSTIC INCORPORATING A QUATRIAN Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Savannah Brown.
~ An Eight-Line Treatise on 'Settler Colonialism' ~
The Apache beat up on the Cheyenne
and the Iroquois on the Sioux
Mohawks ‘mohawked’ the Mohicans
Aztecs turned the Cree into stew …
Now Europeans are called ‘settler colonialists’
but who does America really belong to
Probably Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon man
~ dispossessed by Indians too
Once upon a time ago
Lived a man named Vincent Van Gogh.
His style of painting vexed a few
With importunities anew:
His long broad strokes and use of light
Bright yellows, mauve were his delight
Blues and oranges caught the eye
Contrasting when placed side by side
For all the beauty he expressed
It left him poor and dispossessed.
Life seems to fault the advent man
It’s been that way since time began.
Deceased his work has now become
Treasures in Louvre museum.
Possessed and dispossessed
in the blink of an eye
fresh pain in old wounds
chunks of yesterday's and
tomorrow's pain
crowds today's vacuum
suffocation and nauseating
sweat
slowly excites the numb senses
cleverly disguised in false
colors
bleeding my inner soul
i gather to your selfish whims
but you are blind
you see me through the
crowd's eye
listen endlessly to my hoarse
laughter
as i circle mindlessly
round and round
this maddening wheel of life.