Society Poems

Popular Society Poems
Fantasy World
by Jahnvi Sharma

Meaning to build a castle,
the one where no one interrupts.
Trying to protect a secret in the walls,
a bailey where her life sums up.
Tired of running around like being chased,
feels a desire to have her kingdom and reign.

Craving for only a place to be herself
to have the cunning eyes off her head,
but the fantasy was ruined

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Giant of Africa my Foot
by Graham Ereks

The giant of Africa
The almighty Nigeria,
I salute you, my country
For indeed you are a giant.

Your people are weeping,
Praying that Nigeria
Be better one day-
Fifty years after independence
The citizens are still living in paucity,

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The girl in the mirror
by Marta Gomez

I once wrote a poem,
About a mirror on a wall,
And the reflection of a girl,
Whom only could see fat,
One day seems that the mirror,
Started to talk to this beautiful gal,
And one morning in November,
When the city was reached by the sun,
The reflection of this girl,
Disappeared from the wall,

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Une fleur.
by Brianna LeBlanc

La fleur est rouge,
La fleur est bleue,
Et l’autre fleur est jaune…
Mais, qu’en est-il de la fleur qui a ne pas une couleur?
Est-ce qu’il est ne pas beau?
Ou ne pas bien pour les yeux?

TANT PIS.

Je m’en fiche,

......

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Our Land
by Graham Ereks

Our land is a habitat where the guerrillas
Drink human blood; feeding on the flesh
Of humans; for it is a bloodbath zone
Where gun wounds and massacre have
Become the order of the day.
Our land is in tears; moaning every so often,
The trees and waters bleed due to pains and injuries,
The crocodiles prey on human flesh while the vampires
Roam the street at night drinking human blood
Like the Dracula, so bloodthirsty!

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Recent Society Poems
World
by Astha Kushwaha

They say ,

The world is oblong running on a path that is elliptic .

Trust me ,

I have seen the world that is wrong running on a path that is cryptic.

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Une fleur.
by Brianna LeBlanc

La fleur est rouge,
La fleur est bleue,
Et l’autre fleur est jaune…
Mais, qu’en est-il de la fleur qui a ne pas une couleur?
Est-ce qu’il est ne pas beau?
Ou ne pas bien pour les yeux?

TANT PIS.

Je m’en fiche,

......

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For Lovers of Ale
by Robert Ippaso

That amber liquid far from insipid
Like molten honey but drawn from a tap,
Bitter or dark, the choices quite stark,
God's malted ale, nature's true sap.

Vikings grew strong, strengthened their bond,
Giving them courage for mayhem galore,
A beer in their hand, they pillaged the land
Never quite feeling tired or sore.


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Wokes Run Wild
by Robert Ippaso

Where women aren't quite women
They're Menstruating folk,
Their gender simply Human,
The world gone truly woke.

Grasping for atonement,
The art of double speak,
The fancy of the moment
Our words they cutely tweak.


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Traveling with God
by Robert Ippaso

A colleague asked “Are you a Christian”?
Implying if I practice my religion every day?
What a topic, subtly graphic,
How to answer, what to say?

A moral trap to utter “Yes”,
‘Thou shalt not lie’ jumping instantly to mind,
Should I now smile, force him to guess
Not showing I’m so clearly in a bind?


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