Politician poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of politician poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on politician are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
They can’t resist the Calligraphy, Like the Disney movies, all eyes & ears glued there, Yeah, they fathom the science behind it, But No! Listen to the hits they make, like boom! Can’t help but break dance, The comfort my!
Under the shade he spoke vehemently and coherently, He was cautious to please them and they weren’t late to applause, Thousands and thousands flocked and the weather not favourite, They weren’t under shade and drops of rain landed on them,
World of maze ? Fuzzy is the world about mess in the cosmos where the mass amasses gross income that almost abates the flux in values fore grounded in the spinals of mortals. Crazy is the youth on the online
Happiness! Happiness! Oh! Happiness! Where are thou? You were with me, when I was in primary school, though I never thought much of you, You followed me to secondary school, there also I didn’t recognize you, You were a friend
Looked naïve, but he was elevating himself on the heap of lights unlearning the human commitment. Hunger was his weapon to level the uprising of underprivileged. This monarch of darkness picks up the best, insists on low profiles. We were
A world of glorified crooks and vilified saints. He is an aspiring politician, while he is the selfless Samaritan. He embraces deceit, while he toils in virtue. He amasses wealth, while he mourns over strangers death. He plots ploy through
No barb wire or wall will separate us No passport to identify No entrance fee or currency No politician of Police man to scare our fundamentals No wall clock ticking No alarms disturbing No black man or white man ruling
The war is not enough, The death is not enough Now someone maintain a silence Because they want some more death, And many of them want to live, But don’t forget, they want death, So many deaths! Is it mine?
It stormed all night rattling teeth and windows the small tribe of cats sheathed their claws for once crept into human beds drawn incapable of love to the safety of something larger a fleshy barricade to take the blows something
Sublime spirits trapped in a bottle The fallen son rises to do battle A hero of the lord risen from sin The walls of resolve grow ever thin Break the bond, release the spirit The will prays, but the heart’s
The last signs of man’s existence, Are a full forty miles away. The flowers blooming in nascence, Are scattered all along my way. The last thing from out yonder, Is this serpentine stream beside, Leaving me and I to ponder,
Some days, I sit and dream of being something beautiful. I dream of being the sweet flower in every person’s garden, Or the little butterfly that every child loves. I dream of being the magnificent peacock, flaunting every gorgeous feather,
Our children…our youth, let’s talk to them and listen more. Outer behaviour is all, we try to cure There’s more behind, we need to explore. Let them cry, laugh and express, all they want to pour As caregivers and mentors,
“And this, for the most beautiful lady in the world” taking the flower out, he said. Her eyes kept staring at him in amusement, and those eyes of hers already left him rapt. “Will you be my valentine?” kneeling down
One aqueous night I dream We are pure water in a rill; Sashaying down a frilly hill We sinuate in one stream. In a lowly bed of translucent Sand, the moon’s up crescent Runneth over; we fill her up That
I feel your warm hands on me An intense touch, cold and lifeless Your eyes say what should be Our hearts united in perfect oneness But the light’s slowly cleared the shadow And my reality’s a lie so hollow I’ve
Faulkner writes at a New Orleans café Dust and floorboards with cockroaches Coffee like pain from the slave trade French rolls, wrought iron in the warm rain Spanish gables sigh like lost angels We are the immaculate children of Tolstoy
I knew, you will come tonight, the nature’s fury , sand storm, dusty wind….. you came with rain, touched my hand like a queen… In my two eyes, moist clouds filled with rain…… tears and tears, rolling down…… you touched
Taking me to OYSTERBAY, You entertain me every Saturday. There I saw the enchanting scenes, Grey sands with dying sunbeams. Tall poles of blue tube- lights, Beyond the vast ocean, Mirrors of water revealing their reflections. As if a glittering
After running for the flesh, why did you make a home for the death? Was it a reverence for buying the peace? Or fear of uncertainty and suspense in the bosom of pain? The panther was only thirsty, there was
Desperate to be well My guts were manufacturing Barbed wire and I could feel Every yank of the sibling strands Grating of their braiding Bite of each marital point As the barbs were pinched Onto the endless line. Later, on
Woman thou art precious Do not disdain it as something trivial Defer not its presence Let not the fear of chemo deter you from disclosure Let not the doctor’s scalpel panic you Woman thou art precious Hear not to frightening
I went to see the Louvre Thousand paintings but a good few Hundreds of people roaming here and there But not a single friend like you.. Happy,sad,blessed moments We had the pictures framed upon these walls Each picture saying something
Oh the truth and nothing but the truth !!!????? What way of justice? does it say? should always bring the truth out why do they say then, that, he be given the benefit of doubt? who cannot prove his guilt???
Today I think I shall stay in my bed, Nothing accomplished, step back instead. No time to eat so I’ll eat on the go, Binge all day long but nobody knows. Petrol is low but I’ll take the chance, Roadside
The deceased has 2 cusps of lid Not quite drawn down over the eyes – I wonder if they are peering askant Into the afterlife! Pale rouge belies The flaccid cheeks; pertinaciously hid The 90+ years he once was ambulant
The blooming adolescence , With some canker in its blossom , Or some dormant snake , Wilds all seasons . The budding flower , Arrests drones one by one , And feels thirsty for equilibrium , A peg in its
The street lamp validated it. I’m single, sui generis, without partner, lost entirely in self. East, up the street, no shadow cast. Turning this way and that a black specter, once sewn to my heel, deserted me. Under the lamp,
The unspoken desires, The far away dreams, The actual dilemmas, The plans on the streets, The turning arounds’ and wishing bys The genuine laughters and the passing cries. To the road paved down And the ones not taken, The smiling
Remains busy from dusk to dawn, Giving his soul to Satan’s pawn. Keeping all the tricks buttons on, Man is nothing but a chameleon. Cheats all for his lust and greed- Third rate creature he is indeed. Sows contempt and
From birth to death I am on alter Everything is destined then how can I falter Without no fault I am defaulter Only good faith can be exalter The creation has to follow path of creator Between good and bad