Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
How can we help others In
the world when our country
won't help It's own and allows
It's poor to go hungry let's
homeless die on the street forced
to get food from a food bank
where's the justice In that that
wants to destroy It welfare system
and doesn't take  responsibility for
Its Actions, but to put blame on
others
No the longer world I  recognise feel  sorry for the youth
of today for they have no chance
In a world already ruined by the
generations before If *** came
calling I'd more happy to go for I
live a world I no longer recognise
Quite frankly don't to be there
A World already ruined by the generations
before sorry for the youth of today
Crop fields, once
Today tall grass has taken
Vigil on the hills
Named for old dead boys

Grass aplenty (surely
Two, five, ten winters
Steeped in lead, bloodied,
Washed clean in rain
Could feed a generation)

And then the sun
Always beating, Drumming
Sweat before my eyes
My life—flashing— a lark—

Here in this meadow
Two Men came to slaughter for a train yard
Between the mountain passes and the river
And the Run, once dried, is spilling over

With blood, with clay, for
Sons and daughters of
Virginia, these American tales
(Contested, my chains for soil...)

Pass whispered between
Mothers and little ones, the words
A lineage: Captain to farmer,
Farmer’s granddaughter

I witnessed the passing of our story
From one generation
And I stood by
marianne Oct 11
I am
born on the prairie, stark clad
blue sky desert, blacktop desert, canola yellow desert
small in the great space
between us

I am
born of the mountains, wrapped
in forest standing strong-faced and tall, my
companions, rooted
my teachers

I am
born of the quiet
meadowlark prints in bright white snow, the buzz
and thrum of tall grass prairie quiet
measure of my soul

I am
born of bleached fluorescent flicker
drawn into the whirling hurry
longing for rainfall and
idleness

I am
born into the faith of my fathers, solemn
like their ***, and righteous
holding fast to the book of their fathers
unwavering

I am
born of the rhythm of my mothers
of life-force and flutter
small hands and steaming pots in a hot kitchen
my church

I am
born of ghosts and tiny monsters
the hollow between their aching past
and tangled present,
alien

I am
born of old world order imposed
on new world freedom—
the image shifts
and I blur

I am
born of memory, my fingers carry secrets
daughter of the many mothers before me, their lives
tell the story
of mine

I am
born of the unknown, a swell in the stream
that spills into the ocean, I am
mother of many daughters
to come

Tell me who you are...
Because we are always part of something bigger.
Countless generations walked here
ever since humanity dawned on this planet.
Some honoured, but many obscure –
like flowers that bloom in the wilderness
without an eye to adore their beauty!

On the sands of time,
they all left their footprints… but
with their swift sweeps, the sea waves
wiped them to oblivion.

But the grains of sand revere
all the feet that ever kissed them.
With great awe, they treasure in their souls
their footprints, celebrate
humanity’s sojourn on this planet!
Madison Sep 15
In times of silence
Look around
And ask the generation before you
If they remember...

When 'tragedy' wasn't a part
Of our daily vocabularies
Tossed around as freely as 'love' or 'die.'

The first time they heard the royal court cackle
And tell the **** just what he was
Unaware that they, too
Were just disposable pieces
Of a horribly trivial game.

The time when words meant something
Could often be trusted
Weren't just poker-faced masks
Placed ill-fittingly
Over a lifeblood of insincerity.

The very day when everything changed
Innocence and security withering away
Before falling down like autumn leaves
Left on the simmering ground
To turn black and rot.

The exact moment they learned
Nothing would ever be the same.

The quiet of the aftermath
When they wiped away tears
And pushed themselves into the warmth
Of a loved one's embrace.

When that dear loved one
Soothed them
With sickly sweet naivety
Assured them
That they wouldn't live through another war
That this world was too beautiful
To **** before knowing who was at fault
And the guilty world
Went silent again.

Then, to break the silence that comes after
Ask if they remember
The day you were born.
We live in a society
Where not giving a **** about what others think,
Is actually encouraged.
We live in a society that is completely built on lies.
When did sums become more important,
than knowledge of current wars?
Why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes?
And how is it that a Country that screams freedom,
won't put down their weapons when their own children are bleeding?
Why do I know how to dissect a frog,
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered?
Why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle,
Yet I don't know how to read the signs of suicidal friends,
When more than half of those suffering have no access to treatment!!??
Why am I more "worthy" than the child forced out of his own country;
for his religious identity, for being himself!?!
Why are those in power of whole Countries so blind to our demands?
When did being part of a religion become a crime?
Why do we need so badly for someone to love us?
Why should our weight define whether or not we belong?
society needs to change, but i'd say, it's already too late, because society is doomed.
Isaac Jul 26
Every past generation had their turn
on this giant ball.

They had their taste of life, then death,
and now we're here for more.

Reality has gone a long way back.
It's quite the story we're in.

Can you see how such an epic backdrop makes
your own worries appear so thin?
Written 27 July 2018
Next page