A Letter To My Son
To my son. My baby has blood on his hands, dripping red fingers smeared across oceans and continents. Imperialism breeds imperialism and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. My boy, this empire…
us imperialism is one of the most explored themes on Power Poetry, where young poets share their authentic voices and lived experiences. The 2 poems below range from raw first drafts to carefully crafted works — each one a window into how a young writer sees us imperialism in their life. Whether you're looking for inspiration, connection, or just want to know you're not alone, start reading and see what resonates.
Ready to add your voice? Write a poem about us imperialism and join the conversation.