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Home Violence Poems | Violence Poems About Home

These Home Violence poems are examples of Violence poems about Home. These are the best examples of Home Violence poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Free verse |

I'm Home, Habebty: Egpytian Revolution

*habebty: arabic for my love
*context: this year (2014) is the third anniversary since the egyptian revolution

Friday, he told me,
"Tomorrow will be a sad day."
"Why?" I asked.
"The anniversary of the revolution."
Of course. 
When I had google searched "january news egpyt" 
the day before to see if any new protests had occured to 
block the streets and make him come home late, 
the results still showed the carnage of three years ago.
There would be protests tomorrow.
I asked him if he was going to work. 
"Yes."


Saturday, 
I worried.
I wouldn't tell him
Not to go to the protest-
I knew I would have gone too-
Shouldn't I support what he believes?
But then I think 

Red
Bloodstains on streets 
Littered with banners
Left abandoned

White
Tear gas 
Like the departing souls
Of the martyrs of the revolution

Black
Riot gear uniforms
Beat down protesters;
They've sworn to arrest
Anyone protesting today-

I pray.

I ask him where he is. 
"I'm home, habebty."
He's decided not to go
Since he thinks it's wrong
To celebrate on a day
So many have died.

I breathe again.

Nearly 50 died that weekend.
I got to hear,
I'm home, habebty.


Details | Free verse |

When Doing Wrong Feels so Right

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

A young man came in contact with the police… and has died.
So the town decided to protest, drawing others from the outside.
Everything got out of hand, and escalated, throughout the night.
Businesses destroyed, homes robbed, fires, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
The innocent bystanders have decided to move away, in droves.
The businesses are losing customers, as to safety so many go.
Eventually, businesses will also leave, for customers they must have.
The area will become blighted, where a good home once could be had.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

Police and their families are being threatened, as they try to understand.
But they see that they must guard at night, all which continues to stand.
The Newsmen are stirring things up, as to the National News they go.
Of course we need to know the plight of all, as they stir up more woes.
Protesting the freedom, to protest at night, hasn’t helped stop the fights.
More will be leaving the area, cause they don’t want to live too close.
It’s the innocents who continue to suffer, if the town becomes a ghost.
It could end in a moment, or be like the fighting, in the Middle East.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

It all depends on everyone’s understanding of when it’s time to stop.
It depends on the understanding: of when something wrong feels right.
Rioting, Looting, and Protesting can’t add anything good to the mix.
But adding outsiders and hatred to it, can totally destroy all, in the end.
There are brave hearts, wanting to stop what’s going on, to get along
The outsiders control the scene, as with sadness, the good back down.
It seems to have a life of it’s own, pushed from outsiders out to win.
But the only thing they’ll win, is a ghost town, for those left within.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Remember: Be careful what you do, when feelings seem so right.

 CSEastman Written 8-15-2014… ‘A bystander, very close by’


Details | Narrative |

A World of Shame and Neglect

 
The little child was born into a home of violence and abuse.
      Sadness was the closest thing to love and that was no excuse.
A little child screaming as his mother gets slapped and tossed all around,
     While his worthless father struts thinking he is something he is quite profound.
The little children with ragged clothes and snotty noses just stood there in tears,
      What an impression this father has made for them through the years.
We live in a monkey see monkey do get messed up society,
     Most of the children grew up watching their parents fighting never knowing 
sobriety.
 Alcohol or drugs, seemed to dominate most of the poor.
     The thing they didn’t realize this was only a temporary escape door.
The pain that was eased only led to more grief.
      Till violence took over in the name of relief.
 The daddy was loaded up paying the bills, food, utilities and rent,
      While momma stayed home pregnant and got fussed at for the money she 
spent.
They had sunk so low they were ashamed to attend any church,
      Afraid that the pastor might point them out as he stood on his perch.
What is the answer if any to this little tale of mine,
       How can we make it stop, can we ever draw a line.
 I do know that hate begets hate so could love be the key?
       Has anyone ever tried it long enough to truly find the answer of this I  would 
love to see.
All of my life I have heard do unto others as you would have them do unto you,
        Such a simple answer could this be all we need to do?
Think About It!!!