Customs Poems - Poems about Customs

Generals supposed to avoid politics...

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Varied hues of skin A spectrum of shapes Superficial beauteous forms Cultures diversely similar Divergent faiths bound by belief Tribes tied to global nations Ancestrally inherited customs Trades, professions sundry Outer multitudinous variations Inner indisputable DNA equality Similarities in differences: One rock – home to All....

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Enough of a struggle, When we banned goods smuggle To against riches snuggle And soon sound The Bugle Enough of struggle: Lots of body wriggle For Danes’ Illicit Gin That would lots of lips win: South Africa Necklace In Gold dressed like a lace… In my mind a rifle But its mention stifle: Brushes with The Customs Seizing people’s bottoms; Curses of their custom Of sparing not An Atom... Ahead kicking...

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All wore peanut butter pants where the world spread jam As the tailor tried to fit you in a bread you'd call his clam And you paid for more than sticky when a sandwich would expand And your filling was for others that your taste was in their hand And you never knew another for leaving you alone When you're made up for the moment that...

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Evening meal a thought tonight a cuckoo's custom....

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They where hunter gatherers at one with the land, They thanked mother earth with song and dance, Occasionally another tribe would raid and kill, Years they lived on the land with customs and traditions The head was the chief beloved by all, Happy .... not knowing what was to come. White man came they wanted their land, White man spoke with folk...

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Simple hands are working hands Of women all across vast lands Wipe tears and ...

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“Hey man are you a terrorist? Please let me scan you, Oh yes take your shoes off Oops” I looked at your breasts “That’s ok I’ll be checking This one for bombs.” They can’t be real Can they? Well they were. “This one’s safe.” I tell the others Not even a hint of a grin...

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At Customs Delayed fatigued grumpy and miserable there was I yet another queue at Oliver Tambo on arrival another Check scan body search and mind games in my baggage Damascus had been an unusual holiday destination had firmly attached a couple of splinters just a bit of Shrapnel trauma displacement on the movie of my soul Amena breathing the rubble with one foot detached collateral...

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abuse, age, discrimination, health, introspection, lonely, old, Customs To Getting Old © There are very ingrained customs noted when getting old Getting accustomed to old age is not one of them One has to be blessed with 65 years of life to be noted As Senior Citizen you are given rank status from the start Living and ‘recently’ dead is...

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A wreath on door once announced death Not death now but famous birth A birth_a Savior drew breath Baby's breath salvation for earth The whole earth rejoices_praises Praises the Savior who freed it It has been freed from all curses Curses gone forever_joy fits The crown fits the King whom we praise We praise by Wreath and with breath A door invites over ages For...

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Tied to customs never straying affraid to differ stay on the path forget your beliefs or be prosecuted beliefs too different; you are weird beliefs too similar; you are a poser life is hopeless filled with chiildren not litterally and yet mentaly...

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