Short Passports Poems
Short Passports Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Passports by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Passports by length and keyword.
southwards
to the sun-
follow the light,
annual migration's
begun-
nomads
of nowhere,
without a care
baggage,passports or cheap
airfare
false teeth
prosthetic arms and legs
diapers
wigs
grenades
expired passports and licenses
human skull
ribbons
plastic bottles
papers by the ton
glass
Styrofoam that never disintegrates
food scraps
filling up landfills one item at a time
Are like passports or keys to open doorways
to travel the stars, quasars, galaxies and white and black holes
From worlds within us
from worlds outside us
and inner and outer dimensions
That were never seen
or heard of or experienced before time
We’ve got a nice trip planned next year;
its future is somewhat unclear.
If countries resort
to vaccine passports,
I guess we’ll be staying right here.
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Leaders of the G20 met in Bali, Indonesia and agreed yesterday to the idea of vaccine passports; the G20 represents some 66% of the world's population.
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 ..
COPLA VEINTINUEVE : This Bad Guy World
The more Bad Guys countries co-raise
The more badly will they behave:
Simple logic
Human existence has no place
In its essence for country crave:
Die fanatic
At death no angels check passports
So don’t go waving flags to Hell:
There they will burn
Bad Guys love to play stacked-up sports
In order to look mighty swell
While insides churn
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
a grab-and-run pack
a small survival sack
with one set of clothes for spouse and self
passports, a file with just few mails
an old diary with addresses to contact
in England, Finland, and Switzerland
and some currency notes
couple of thousands
in rupees that does not stretch
like the American dollars
they were what i needed most
as the pogrom was in progress
in my Tamil homeland
while i always went to bed
with shoes on my feet
I dream not…
of that long past
of stormy sky
and the aftermath
of moonless nights
and starry schemes
of what was never
as it seemed
I think not…
of thoughts left blue
of black and white
with no other hues
of borders crossed
and passports stamped
with a nod of the head
and lips tight clamped
I see not…
what could have been
if you had only
let me in
seeing with your eyes
not with your heart
acting the role
but never the part