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Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor…
April 26, 2018
The boy is calm as nightime comes
He contemplates his life in slums
He works so hard and takes a break
He dreams to one day have a stake
Just enough funds to make the trip
Awaits a man with a packed lip
The man knows nothing of the boy
Yet halts his journey with great joy
“I’ve much to offer,” says the kid
“Scram Alien, time to get rid,”
He turns around, his head held low
Wondering what he could’ve bestowed
© Jessica E. Pelham, AL
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This is a four iamb, meter and rhyme poem that I wrote for my high school creative writing class. I used this peom to project the way I feel about a relevant political issue going on today. I hope you enjoy!