History Poems

Popular History Poems
by Steve Turner

We believe in Marxfreudanddarwin.
We believe everything is OK
as long as you don't hurt anyone,
to the best of your definition of hurt,
and to the best of your knowledge.

We believe in sex before during
and after marriage.
We believe in the therapy of sin.
We believe that adultery is fun.


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Ancient History
by Siegfried Sassoon

Adam, a brown old vulture in the rain,
Shivered below his wind-whipped olive-trees;
Huddling sharp chin on scarred and scraggy knees,
He moaned and mumbled to his darkening brain;
‘He was the grandest of them all was Cain!
‘A lion laired in the hills, that none could tire:
‘Swift as a stag: a stallion of the plain,
‘Hungry and fierce with deeds of huge desire.’

Grimly he thought of Abel, soft and fair


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We Refugees
by Benjamin Zephaniah

I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.

I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.


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A Hedge Of Rubber Trees
by Amy Clampitt

The West Village by then was changing; before long
the rundown brownstones at its farthest edge
would have slipped into trendier hands. She lived,
impervious to trends, behind a potted hedge of
rubber trees, with three cats, a canary—refuse
from whose cage kept sifting down and then
germinating, a yearning seedling choir, around
the saucers on the windowsill—and an inexorable
cohort of roaches she was too nearsighted to deal
with, though she knew they were there, and would


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How I Got That Name
by Marilyn Chin

I am Marilyn Mei Ling Chin
Oh, how I love the resoluteness
of that first person singular
followed by that stalwart indicative
of "be," without the uncertain i-n-g
of "becoming."Of course,
the name had been changed
somewhere between Angel Island and the sea,
when my father the paperson
in the late 1950s


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Recent History Poems
The Story of Streets
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was a meticulous city planner, like future plans we make for jasmine days,
And I loved beautifying the big city, like blooming parks where nature plays.

I was ever striving to improve the metropolis, proposing plans and projects,
And meeting with public officials, as stars and moon improve night prospects.

I administered government policies, and decided the best uses for city land,
And I was informed on zoning and construction codes, with data on demand.

I was proud of that bustling metropolis, for like red sun, it was going places,


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History Repeats Itself
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was an accomplished librarian, who took pleasure from written words,
As opera singers find their pleasure, in the halls where music is heard.

I was well matched to such absorbing work, knowing it was worthwhile,
Like stars traveling a long, long way, lending endless sparkles per mile.

I lived in the San Francisco Bay area, a location of beauty and charms,
Like the fragrant springtime blooms, strewing as wildly as bee swarms!

The library was near my home, and I would walk there in fair weather,


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Lapis Lazuli Earth
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Deepest lapis lazuli earth of bluest skies,
Sparkling rich treasure of the Milky Way,
With colorful dawns and ruby butterflies,
We must nurture our world so it will stay.

Sparkling rich treasure of the Milky Way,
With rich history, not too soon forgotten,
We must nurture our world so it will stay,
And bluebirds may be heard in the garden.


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by Evelyn Judy Buehler

When I was a history teacher, I had a passion for the subject,
Like the twilight descending silkily, as day and night connect.

Each day was a new adventure, as we explored different ages,
Broadening young minds. I looked forward to the eager faces!

I had always yearned for teaching, so rewarding in myriad ways,
Like the reward of a peach sunrise, shining through purple haze.

I taught at a neighboring high school, and had for several years,


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by Mack Cooper

My gaze fell on the shepherd king,
Bold and bare, clutching fabled sling,
A piercing bell began to ring,
My tempo began to quicken.

Achromic eyes began to hue,
As colors drew his face anew,
Unto my eyes his eyes were drew,
My brain was wholly stricken.


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