Short Journalist Poems
Short Journalist Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Journalist by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Journalist by length and keyword.
The arrest of David Berkowitz ended the growing terror faced by New York City,
but investigative journalist Maury Terry uncovered much more to this story.
There was once this noted journalist
Who was fond of making lists
His stories lacked the punch
For he always followed his hunch
But the event always missed
Why love?
When I turned you over in letters
Tipping the page
Why, why cry without the same
Journalist in depths I've never begun
To edit this desk
Copy me too
English journalist, Daniel Defoe,
was most famous for his novel Robinson Crusoe.
The whole idea of novels it’s said that he conceived,
and he wasn’t afraid to write on anything he believed.
Kinetic journalist
words swerve in outlooks
Stashing produce
In an overproduced monkey-fist world
Our evolution spells
Desertion or soil-reversing
To untangle the fist
And document inner bliss
American humorist and writer, Mark Twain
born as Samuel Clemens, his name in history does not wane.
He attacked Big Business with “The Gilded Age.”
An observant journalist as well, Twain was very sage.
The journalist may be
nosy and noisy,
but must be fair and
truthful as he can be.
His demanding art
requires him to be so.
Between public matter
and private affair,
the lawful fine distinctions
he must know!
pearl
precious
progeny
dubbed Marguerite
discovers the joy of reading/writing
the jewel who prepares for the future
playwright, poet
journalist
marriage
mom
August 15, 2020
The name, Marguerite means pearl.
The Press
should serve
the governed
not the governors
A voice
of truth
untethered
running free
A Journalist
the highest
calling
with words intrepid
To save
the struggling nation
child
— and thee
(Dreamsleep: July, 2026)
Once for whom the bell tolls did exist
the playwright and the war journalist.
Wilde had an ego that’s true
but Hemingway always knew
the importance of being Ernest!
Written: May 2015
I wish I could explore the whole universe
Like the journalist in town
And I dream taking copies of tall buildings
I am memorizing the continents
I used to admire the position on the screen
But now I have possessed as chairman
I seem to be a blessed child
But I'm really blessed
I am not extremely important.
I am not powerful.
I have only minor influence.
I am a small person.
I thought I was omnipotent.
I defer to my leader,
To my country and to God.
I give my ounce of influence
To Lester Holt, journalist, NBC News.
This is my resolve.
Thank you for reading what I write.
Your thinking led you
to become a Christian
and your family
disowned you because of that.
You were the journalist,
contributing articles
with business-like
editing decisions.
After death of your husband,
who passed the sickness on you,
you had to struggle with it for years
until you succumb victorious.
Taliban advance
Ruinous darkness follow-
Freedom's sun eclipsed!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 August 2021
* Taliban fighters killed the relative of a Deutsche Welle journalist in Afghanistan as the group steps up its searches door-to-door for people connected to or who worked for the West.
It’s a bicycle to ride
On a death-free roadside,
The killer cars gone to hide,
Busy traffic at its lowest tide
And catastrophe unlikely to glide!
So, why my time now bide?
For its tyres won’t ever slide;
All the slippery muddiness dried,
My concerned eyes, watchful and wide…
Journalists to never report “A rider has died”.
A murder committed either by a king or a beggar condemned is by our Lord the same!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
22 November 2018
* While the murder of the Washington Post journalist, Jamal Khashoggi, according to the CIA was ordered by a high upstanding individual of the Saudi family, efforts are made to cover it up.
subversions fast
two websites
to....
differentiate
between....
genius....
deception
access tonight
and....
irish poetry
poetrynation and....
poetrysoup
i am on this .com bubble also
as a journalist
look at pharmas linguists
studying you
the world population's source of poverty
has a couple of websites to spy on you with
Massachusett's Willianm Cullen Bryant
The first 'All American' poetic giant;
with verses in 'American English'
Focussed the new nation's eyes
as his poetry became widely recognised.
Bryant(1794-1878) found fam with 'to a Waterfowl' & 'The Prairies' & also helped lay the
foundations for 'American' poetry as well as creating Central Park NY
Run
She marched.
No shoes,
just marched —
grey patches on her legs,
stiff and hard.
Metal watching from above,
nowhere to hide,
just to walk.
She cannot sit,
she has to write.
The world must listen to the cries,
but how long can she survive?
The buzzer alerted.
It landed —
landed on her with a thud so wild.
Pen in her hand.
Pen was her guide.
you where
what you not
till LA diplomacy
became my habit
toxic offender
Britain's detainee
fleeing grey's
a runt in sign
ab stains in Russian
stoic without the light
nightmare i warred app
next bus to nowhere
findings inside papers i hide
can't re-cut the record
the cloths plain spent
too much filthy Irish ink to blink
i am a journalist
i am caring
on Friday
one pm
reporter
for the
standard-examiner
at s8
interview me
puffy puffery
it is the day before Saturday
one post meridiem (1 p.m.) demolishment
set in time
correspondent of journalist
falls quickly ephemeral, quick
standard and examiner
frolicking on Sections of eight
with a simple dialogue
of puffy puffery
safety unknown
Journalist jeopardizes hegemony
Unveils untold injustices
Lacerates limits of freedom
Invokes imminent amendments
Answers alleged incriminations
Negates nefarious power
Antagonizes acrimonious lies
Suffers slaughter of right
Subdues surrogate meanings
Awaits apoplectical hatred
Nears noxious injection
Gulps generous hemlock
Ends evil monopoly
Superstar Mr Tariq Fateh
A gladiator who conquered Indo Pak Sub Continent
Rival of Jinah and fan of fifty cent
A Man who is hilarious by birth
Victim Of Gravity and centre of Earth
A proud muslim journalist and professor of history
A legendary palmist who discovered his own palmistry
An extraordinary loser and candidate of noble prize
Hello Mr Tariq Fateh kaisa laga ye surprise?
He who loves no one,
Think about everyone,
He thinks about stupid cashiers,
To the journalist who has fun with him,
To the war in middle East
he can’t hear the birds,
The titmouse with a turquoise heart,
The blackbird with its head so green,
He who loves no one,
Cannot understand horses,
Nor admire the large cruise ships,
Like Ulysses before the sirens,
He thinks of everyone.
Do you know Jack London,
You, young poet from Brest,
You, old fisherman,
We need to extract so much ore,
To find a gram of gold,
Whether it is the call of the forest,
Or the people of the abyss,
Your soul will find this,
Do you know Jack London,
You, high school student of Saint Joseph,
You market gardener, you baker,
You, a journalist from Le Monde,
Did you read the call from the forest again?