Refugee poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of refugee poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on refugee are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The azure sky, the swirling waters presented a picturesque backdrop The tourists, backpackers heaved a sigh of relief All were far from the maddening crowd On a quest to find inner peace. Then they saw what looked like a log
In hoardes they arrived not cattle or flock of sheep sea of humanity deprived a deluge seemed to sweep Harried mothers hands in pray weary eyed children in tow losing who couldn’t bear sway reached utopia unsteady and slow City
Airliners fell fat like poisoned bumble bees breasting their way into parking lots and highways plowing up concrete furrows tipped with shiny and jagged vehicles trimmed in flame I wake in a light sweat to a fluxuating grumble wondering at
‘Go Back To Where You Came From’ is the title of the story, and it deals with much emotion of humanity… same as you and me. And to those with less compassion, understanding and knowledge; of whom there are many,
I’ m kohl dark, darker than darkness, my skin, coarse and dirty, disturbs you. but you say dark is beautiful! you are “correct”! although I smile, it’s painful. And you get up and go the moment I sit next to
(1) My grandmother, may God have his mercy on her, still keeps the role of the hero; her face wrinkles are a leather book open to all interpretations; the falling of her teeth are the lost evidence on present time;
35 years of living should have inured me, if not prepared me, for surviving this planet; but no matter how much of me gets spent, no matter how much of it becomes me, I will always be an outsider; like
We were marbles in a concave pan different sizes different trajectories congregating in clumps and caravans until the formation shattered we slid to the edge or the center almost unable to control ourselves but certainly in a hurry motivations and
Walking on the streets near-by, saw a small pussy, Mewling, as abandoned, alone and aloof, so sad, Thirsty and hunger, I felt the need of serving and saving And took it home, to be blamed by my wife, as we
(1) On the road from Jerusalem, while echoes of the horn are still tearing down the walls of Jericho, I recline on a table of sand. Sparrows cry joyfully to me, in a space void of wedding ceremonies, picking up
A dead leaf on ground It fell off found itself weak All pass over yet no one cares But the wind which carries it Somewhere away may be Suitable to grow again To have the rebirth journey It struggles but
My knees scrape the floor of my room. As I remember the wrongdoing I committed. And now the devil is here To punish me for my sin. Anger had corrupted this angel, Turned her skin blood red. Her voice was
This one’s for dad, that one’s for that day, underneath that one is for my agonising life. What is this? I hate the life time that spins around me, slice the carrot, red as a strawberry. Let it shed, let
Why are you stronger than All my other feelings- oh! Love How can you vanquish all my Hate, and hurt, and indifference And I gloat in you, forgetting the rest! Is this a magical being? that exists Only to see
Pure white I cannot fathom the multi-hues you hide within yourself On a baby swathed in white you take on the colour of innocence and joy On a pious man you are coloured with selflessness On a doctor you take
When We began, words built bridges carrying us to and fro across distant places… thoroughfares, connecting spaces, verbal embraces… Words became light and water flowing, filling, spilling, swathing… Words… like glowing embers spewing sparks, scorching flames, swirling blaze, enveloping, burning
I thought I would fall, but there was an invisible wall… remember that scary doll, then I could hardly crawl… I thought I would fall, but there was an invisible wall… Everything was strange and new, mom I was looking
From a peg upon the wall, in this mysterious old bunk house, I am taken. Placed upon the balding head of a wise young cowboy. Making this jolly cowboy look bold. With an eagle’s tail feather inserted into the band
Callan sleepwalks the screenporch accompanied by the wind (which tugs her cream chemise in fitful jinks) and her improbable Polish last name its consonant-rich taunt sunk into her psyche like some cypress splinter so long imbedded it has gone past
High above timberline on the fringe of a pristine alpine meadow in the dawning of a new wilderness day. The rolling bugle of a superior bull elk, reflected on this master bugler’s breath in the cool crisp air. A lonesome
Unimpeachable, the shrine wants to move on with snippets of pain. Man has failed the god. Teats were becoming omnivorous devouring the faces, ears and eyes. What would you like to eat stings or thorns? The curt bruises. Are you
The world’s new code of conduct Misusing of office protocols to suit one’s taste Stocking stolen billions in banks and calling it your hard earned money A sweet temptation destroys people’s integrity is it’s goal Causing poverty as you milk
My name is Richa… Does it really matter?! It could’ve been Mala …Seema…Sita..Nirbhaya or even Chabili.. In the end I would’ve been married to a much older man.. or abandoned after impregnating in a forest.. I wash utensils …clean floors..
Liars are them who say aren’t afraid of the dark. Monsters under them bed they fear… The howl of wolf at a distance they hear… Liars are them who say they aren’t afraid of the dark. Marshy creeks. Silence shrieks.
It’s not known why intimacy Starts between me and you Why overwhelming interests Made me eager to dream you Every incident between us Became colorful really Happy moments with you Touched my heart gradually Why I felt without you Life
Back in the Summer of eighty five thank God I was still alive music was filling the streets as I chilled by the strip here’s the trip many girls were dressed with flames both were not ashamed the innocence of
Come back, Pa, I need your cash The hunger pangs make me wanna chow the natives You shoulda raised me poor, given me something of my own You grow into the castle forecast upon you And I will never have
Give me back, me back, my affections. I had planted the kisses on melting lamps. The dark tunnel goes to a lake for a rendezvous with pink death on white lips of cinders. Such agony of wintering tree. Not a
A bucketful of moon falls on my door with the smell of a salted night on frozen shoulders of a punctured landscape. I start expanding unseeing a sentimental lake. Life was asking a very high price for the purple bruises.
I hear by declare I shall not fell, I hear by declare I shall not crack or succumb to the utter temptation that “I need help”, I hear by illuminate every dark thought by living in my unproclaimed fantasy. I