America in Verse
One Nation, United by Poetry. Exploring the United States of America through word.
America, Noun
America A-M-E-R-I-C-A, America Noun From the Italian Amerigo which itself is from the German Amalric or Heimrich
Jay WalkerPublished 7 months ago in Poets
Crimson
Crimson Crimson is the color that sounds the alarm for spirits cast off into a cycle of what's known and broken. Peace is the heart of lives that matter
The American Blues
I just can't seem to sleep tonight. There's too much trouble, too much strife. I'm too busy trying to save my own life. I feel like I'm marching to a drum and fife.
Fred BobbittPublished about a year ago in Poets
The Non-Perks of Living in a Small Town
We all know where everything is. Not by location. By senses. That little store that smells like stale cigarettes and always has a stray dog they feed outside.
Our Brave Protectors
Boots. Dog Tags. Camouflage. Distance. That is what life is for many years for some. Alone. Afraid. Worried. Proud. Emotions you feel every single day.
Kelsie TylerPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Assembly
I marched on Pennsylvania With like-minded warriors. We shouted and carried our words In sober steps, not treading the ground.
Emily EricsonPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Trump's Statue of Authority
Trump’s Statue of Authority Like the brazen giant of Orange fame, with conquering limbs atop groping, tiny hands; Here at his seaside, elitist Florida gates he shall stand,
Ronalee HutchingamePublished 2 years ago in Poets
Shattered Illusions
It was a late summer morning when the world changed forever. Images of unexpected horror from our greatest city, dispelling our national sense
Ruben WillisPublished 2 years ago in Poets
4th of July
my country tis of greed i haven’t slept right for weeks like my dreams can’t decide what it means to be american i have a heart & i bleed & i breathe
Carrie MoranPublished 2 years ago in Poets
When Is Juneteenth?
I have a question: How did they convince my Black friends to celebrate Independence? It don't make sense. Back then, this day, it never meant shit
Elijah FisherPublished 3 years ago in Poets
Memorial Way
How many of us sit home alone On a Veteran’s or Memorial Day Contemplating the choices we have made Thinking of someone who is so far away.
SM FitzgeraldPublished 3 years ago in Poets
President of the Greatest Country
Everything started with fire, Fire directors, fire chiefs, To make room for family and friends To able to reach his endless greed.
