PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I hear America singing, a threnody I hear—

A quiet boy goes to school; he sits there at his little desk,

While his lazy teacher crunches numbers in chalk, the boy cannot focus;

He is busy lamenting over his slaving mother—being vexed, by his father who was never there.

I hear America’s silent cries, the unheard screams of a million hushed voices,

Shut up in darkness; never to feel their mammas gentle kiss—unloved, broken

By men who think themselves God.

I hear America’s Christians singing; to too many praise songs they sway their hands—

Perturbed by the furrow brow, they cease their preaching

While their brothers in China burn; their inner flame never squelched.

I hear America’s metal birds: they exhaust an ugly tune,

They fly overhead and they chirp and they tweet;

To the fellows back home—

I hear America’s speeches, strange things She now says;

Money, avarice, greed, that is on what Her platforms stand.

I hear the bells toll; for America they ring—like Persia, like Rome, every great nation does someday cease to sing.