Government poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of government poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on government are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
They sit on high chairs Where they wear most expensive clothes Their shoes were pointed and shining They speak like parrots and walk like peacocks They made promises which they will never fulfil They live in a hell of paradise
I’ll give ya till three ta renounce your frightful winning spree to bow out gracefully re: signing your fate to trumpeting ya tail feathers prithee what constitutes your bush whacking foreign policies tomb me equals diddle lee squat and foreign
Just say no to corrupt politicians, lying and cheating with their secret missions. Hugging the baby in the camera’s eye then stealing its lolly and watching it cry. Just say no to the corrupt EU, actually achieving what Hitler failed
1 She is the tree green and wide abundantly dressed overflowing spreading her sleeves blesses all in her cool shade solitude teems with breezy songs I feel nearer God 2 That autumn tree from this window looks like a young
Like city wall that blocks off invaders, so is the skin which covers the body from head top to the sole of the foot. A wall that protects the body against known and un-known enemies, a drain pipe that discharges
A COMMON MAN LIKE ME, could not dream to live freely under the Sun and the Moon like this. It belonged to the rich…. It belonged to the politically aligned It belonged to the certain castes and communities, the minorities,
Been born three months when Kennedy got shot Didn’t really recognize the significance From the comfort of my cot Didn’t know Vietnam was such a brouhaha Or that the world would not be at peace For at any one time
The fish in the river died And the river became foul smelling. There was blood all over In containers both of wood and of stone. In houses both of Pharaoh and the peasants In nations, both of the government and
Great Maker beyond human knowledge. Our time is short. Our knowledge finite. Reality infinite. We struggle to understand. We create structure to make it so. We build and grow the best we can. It’s a struggle every day you know.
There is far too much evil in this long misused world, too much force-fed fear. Too many bent and broken lives adrift on a torrent of tears. Too many innocent children being brainwashed in too many crowded halls. Pointless graffiti
Hours before the birth of the gem, There was an affectionate argument between them; Her father said, ”Watch my child change the state as a minister”, To which her mom quipped, ”No she’ll deliver unbiased justice as a barrister.” When
The Singapore-schooled child Is bonsai-born to perfection; His hair doesn’t grow wild; His mind has no inflection. He is just the rare inquiline His islanded government ordered For in his rinsed head is recorded A rhyme: toe the line or
What the human mind can conjure.There is a Creator, in my mind there is no doubt. To some degree I can know a man’s mind, but the Creator’s mind is beyond mine to know. There are charlatans amongst us who’ll
Couple gets attracted to unite in Bliss Couples Union culminates in anticipation of baby Couple dreams of either a Boy or a Girl Couple celebrate with gusto if the child is either Couple will be crest fallen if the child
11 There is living after death, there is death before life, Ordinary living which is in scrambles of destituteness, Destituteness of idealism, of knowledge meaningful, of utter candidness. Dull realities of weeds, weeds of rampant ignorance, averment Of void words,
In 1855 President Franklin Pierce of the United States made a “request” to Chief Seathl1 of the Suwamish tribe of Indians (who lived in what is now the State of Washington) to “sell” his land to the government. In reply,
At the weekend she’ll go back again to walk barefoot on ferns and then through flickering green mosaics where sunlight never burns she’ll wander wisp tossed shadowed lanes of timeless peace rimmed hours where emerald rain drops sprinkle from sky
My memories have become nomads, And they come back all at once. Like strangers from myriad surreal lands, Or a thousand prodigal sons. How far from home, we have strayed mother! From that sunny dreaming hearth, So my memories seem
One haunting night, I traversed alone in a dark and lonely forest. The stars above did their best to guide me, But the canopy of branches blocked their light. The sorrow-filled cries of wolves filled the silence, And my heart
A beautiful portrait of lovely ladies hangs in front of me in my workplace gazing at them I often wonder- – Where, where have we come from being them? ? Bejewelled, bedecked, beautified – -an epitome of adornment coy, silent.demure.humble
Darkness shrouds the dying day, turning everything still but the shadows, growing they are now the undead, gliding towards altars for their daily prey. The silence is just a blindfold, the night but an illusion, things unheard best left unsaid,
In the steadiest motion few dainty butterflies Rose in the air, gave your eyes a big surprise You, enchanted, rubbed your hands to prepare For the hunt, your clever preys were but unaware Of the plans that in your cunning
Some faces Will never see ’em again Nights of those summer Will never ever be the Same Some stories Will never paint rainbow in our heart oh silly reasons Will never break us apart Now going to tread the future
Innocent dream he was, untouched by the pain Happy like a child he flew once People slapped, some bullied, But with his magnificent innocence he smiled His heart pained… A day came, hell of a day it was, This boy
A preacher was shedding dirty tears for burning hills. Pinned up on tongue was a slogan. Death for all sunflowers. Draped in blood who was trespassing the sickle moon? I cannot raise the mist where you stand naked in sunlight.
To put words down on paper, That can give a memory life. To recreate a moment passed, Long buried deep inside. To compose a verse so eloquent, It can cause a heart to break. And lead the reader to feel
Clips, Clamps, Berets, and Bows. School, church, playdates, she goes. But that’s just the beginning of her poor hairs woes. Down again? Up again. Knots again? Brush again. Food again? Comb again. Gum again? Glue again? Brush, and comb again.
A nebula rises unfazed after fission: after a fractured debate, greed crouching on the wrinkled noses of rugged bouncers. In remote history someone was burning itself out. A black eye surges forward, sings an ode to championship. Ankles swell up.
His fingers were frenetically tapping, as if passionately rehearsing the recapitulation of Schubert’s rich, nuanced B Flat Major Sonata. Eyes darting back and forth in the waiting room, accompanying the clamor of paper rustling and sonorous rhythmic accented breathing. *click*