"auguste" poems - Hello Poetry

Transplanted to these '...fruited plains...', grandpa, One of Gaia's fruits, what was his twinkle among The countless stars? Here, millions have come To stay, imbuing us with their place of origin, Their souls dancing, flying, in a universal way. For over 60 years Americans to be came through Ellis Island, headed to who knows where West, My grandfather, Uru, which means hero, a Fin, One of three who left a concentration camp that Fifteen thousand entered, did too, to NYC, NY. Following freedom's beacon, its first light he saw, The Statue of Liberties still unscorched torch, thanx To Frederic Auguste Bartholdi, and the French. Of Libertas, the Roman goddess of freedom and a '...Tabula ansata, a tablet evoking the law, upon Which is inscribed the date of the American Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.' The broken chain of tyranny lies at her feet, Upon a pedestal, wherein etched words are, From Emma Lazurus' sonnet, 'The New Colossus', Which may rise again, only if we embrace them: '...Her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. 'Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she With silent lips. 'Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!' Only 151 feet tall, she will ever stand taller, or Be turned to dust with us, all of humanity and Large mammals, as well as the Earth, tragic Members of extinctions annals, if we don't stop The permanent altering of weather cycles through Overuse of fossil fuels, the degradation of the Earth's orbit around the Sun. We can walk in Nature's abundant balance again, humane beings. Still, she gives hues to the vast canvas of what The Big Apple, and its beautiful mosaics' art, can be. I shine only because he, a Merchant Marine, did.

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Dec 23, 2018

Dec 23, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC

reality

Giving Thanks To Our Ancestors

Transplanted to these '...fruited plains...', grandpa, One of Gaia's fruits, what was his twinkle among The countless stars? Here, millions have come To stay, imbuing us with their place of origin, Their souls dancing, flying, in a universal way. For over 60 years Americans to be came through Ellis Island, headed to who knows where West, My grandfather, Uru, which means hero, a Fin, One of three who left a concentration camp that Fifteen thousand entered, did too, to NYC, NY. Following freedom's beacon, its first light he saw, The Statue of Liberties still unscorched torch, thanx To Frederic Auguste Bartholdi, and the French. Of Libertas, the Roman goddess of freedom and a '...Tabula ansata, a tablet evoking the law, upon Which is inscribed the date of the American Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.' The broken chain of tyranny lies at her feet, Upon a pedestal, wherein etched words are, From Emma Lazurus' sonnet, 'The New Colossus', Which may rise again, only if we embrace them: '...Her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. 'Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she With silent lips. 'Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!' Only 151 feet tall, she will ever stand taller, or Be turned to dust with us, all of humanity and Large mammals, as well as the Earth, tragic Members of extinctions annals, if we don't stop The permanent altering of weather cycles through Overuse of fossil fuels, the degradation of the Earth's orbit around the Sun. We can walk in Nature's abundant balance again, humane beings. Still, she gives hues to the vast canvas of what The Big Apple, and its beautiful mosaics' art, can be. I shine only because he, a Merchant Marine, did.