Treasure Island

Patricia Kelley

(March 11 1957 / Oklahoma)

America there's a curse against our Children


America there's a war against our children.
You said it was okay to murder unborn babies.
Today babies are still dying, and young innocent girls are taken from their families and friends for Human Trafficking.
Now, it's just not babies being taken by single ladies.
We have cursed our own American children.
By deciding what color their eyes should be.
By deciding what sex they should be.
Our young innocent daughters are possibly facing a fate of being nothing more than a man's pleasure.
Our boarders are no longer protected.
Our daughters have become a drug dealer's treasure.
They look for the young and innocent, the unprotected.
We now have over eleven million illegal immigrants for politicians' votes.
Drug Trafficking is now entertained by Human Trafficking.
Politicians' act like dumb goats!
Please, I pray, protect our boarders, protect our children.
I am scared for the fate of American Children.

By: Patricia Kelley

Submitted: Thursday, January 31, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

improve

Poet's Notes about The Poem

This poem about human trafficking and the dangers our children face today

Comments about this poem (America there's a curse against our Children by Patricia Kelley )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. PRETTY THOUGHTS, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  2. 如果爱是守候, qin xing
  3. Strife, Md. Asadullah
  4. 'MY FAMILY', paul fornillos
  5. ~ Eyes ~, Aparna Chatterjee
  6. The Panama Canal, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. Out At Pelletier's, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. Contrary Sary, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. Pixley Folks, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. Out In The Open, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]