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Abuse Child Poems | Abuse Poems About Child

These Abuse Child poems are examples of Abuse poems about Child. These are the best examples of Abuse Child poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Abused

It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

Walking hand in hand with mama

My long brown french pleats  bouncing in the wind 

My new red plastic boots ready to be shown.


Reaching high upon my tiptoes ...

I swung  the large french brass knob  back and forth

until  my short chubby sweet  nonna opened the door.

As soon as I saw her, my hazel eyes changed

 into different shades of caramel swirl.

I  am her first born niece,  and her little girl.


It could have been a beautiful  memory to write down

Running up those marbled  tiles , gazing through the hallway 

 at the two dark giant iron knights . How I wish I could have been

like them , just as brave  and wise.


In the  busy kitchen I hugged nonna over and over again

I loved how her  apple  and cinnamon  pies wafted ,filling Saturdays 'air.

I loved the teaspoon sounds , as the sugar in the coffee cup was stirred

It was a symphony , blissful  music to my ear.



Next to mama ,in the dining room , on a padded  orange rexine chair I sat

Playing snakes and ladders whilst I heard them chat.


It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

If I had not  followed uncle Bob  that afternoon

Along the long corridor we walked , to his room 

At the far end, Inside, I was promised  a delightful  surprise.  


The red velvet  curtains He shut down.  All  turned dark !

 The squeaky  old  door  slammed . I could  listen

 to the fast rapid beating of his vacant heart.



I could feel him getting close , too close .




I could smell his stinking breath and feel his  hand

It slipped hungrily , unbuttoning my innocence and  collar shirt.


He pushed me down on my knees, head and face both pressed.

My lollipop lips  too close to sour scents ,  I would never  forget. 


Everynight  cold in my bed , I scream -  Regret...

I do not want to remember, yet how can I forget


It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

But all I have is a blank page. 

In that house of nonna where  once I laughed and played 

All there is  are secrets , insecurity, my shadow  and its shame.





Fiction poem inspired by Becca's contest against Child Abuse...

Not for the contest,  but thanks for the inspiration. 

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Curious George and Winnie The Pooh

I remember Christopher Robin
When helping Pooh find honey
Was my biggest problem
I remember the blustery days
We trusted each other in every way

I remember When we helped Eeyore
Find his way home from the Sea shore
Everything was good
In the Hundred Acre Woods

I remember Curious George
I had to chase him a hundred miles
As soon as my mother kissed me good night
We went around the world
But we made it home
Two minutes before sunlight
And everything was alright

And Sammy the Seal would let me get on his back
And ride for a million miles
We exchanged halcyon smiles

And I remember the monster
Who brought fear to the hundred acre woods
Scarier than the Heffalump
Scarier than the thing with the Black eyes
He was pure evil in disguise
He told lies

Filled with evil and guile
Christopher Robin called him a Pedofofile
It tried to seduce me
Ten minutes after my mother introduced me

I remember that ice cold June
When Mama said “We’re getting married soon"
And Disney left the room
I remember when
Larry Flint
And Hugh Hefner moved in
And H.A. Ray moved away
And Dr. Seuss and Syd Hoff
Took the Summer off

I remember seeing the door knob turn
The Pedofofile kneeled on one knee
Said he had a story he wanted to read to me
And he brought pornos to my bed
Mother Goose turned her head
Christopher Robin Fled
Curious George hid under the bed
And the hundred acre woods were
filled with dread

I remember us all gathering around
The meeting in Hundred acre woods
Christopher Robin said if I
Opened up the pornofo graphic
magazine
I could be banned for good

I asked him what’s a Pornofographic magazine
He didn't know exactly what to say
But saidt they were ten times worse
Than any blustery day

But i was curious like Curious George
I was curious like Curious George
I opened the Pornofographic magazine

I remember the woman
I saw more of her insides than a doctor
I remember the dog on top of her
But I can’t tell you what they did
And i cried out for Winnie the Pooh
I just wanted to be a kid

I remember the last time
I saw Christopher Robin
Tears rolled down his chin
he asked me why I had to
Let the pedofofile in
And it was a blustery day times ten

And I waved goodbye to Piglet
And Roo to Tigger
And the heffalump too
But Mostly I remember standing closely
To Danny the Dinosaur
He told me he would always love me
But I couldn’t slide down his back anymore

I remember 1974

2011 Dr. Seuss Poet M.e. Michael Ellis..

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Oblivious

I cannot stand your presence for another day,
You have ruined me in every possible way,
All this hidden pain inside was caused by you,
My tears were invisible, so you never knew.

You abused me daily with your uncaring words,
I ignored it and pretended like it was unheard,
You continued to prey on me without seeing,
That those words were hurting my every feeling.

I lived my life believing what you had said,
Your voice constantly echoing in my head,
I could not be myself because of you,
See the damage that you put me through.

Over the past few months something changed,
As my once sad thoughts were rearranged,
I have found friends who brighten up my days,
They have changed my life in so many ways.

My friends are encouraging me to just be,
I will never be like you, don't you see,
Now finally free my voice can be heard,
There is positivity coming from my every word.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic | |

From darkness to stardom

Every child is born into this world crying,
Little did this poor child know, tears would fall for the rest of her life.
Born into a world of abuse, heartache and pain,
With a drug addict, alcoholic abusive father and a heartless mother.
Every day was the same, left alone with only silence and darkness,
Dirty clothes, little to eat with every cry for help resulting in violence.
How could her eyes see any happiness when they had run dry?
How could she smile with cut lips and a bruised body?
At 7, her mother died from a lethal overdose of alcohol and drugs,
However, the abuse got worse as she became her father’s new toy.
Poor little girl, an object of carnal gratification and her innocence stolen,
By a man who was responsible for her protection and well being.
The effects of a dark and destructive childhood destroyed her confidence,
With low self esteem and no social skills, they mocked her in school.
Little did they know about the struggles in her life and the pain she was going through,
Bruised and abused, having to make her own lunch with no help from a pathetic father,
This was her daily routine- even hell would have been a more peaceful place for her.
But, little did the world know the girl had a hidden talent,
The voice of an angel and the mind of a creative poet.
At night when she sang, the stars glowed to her beautiful lullaby,
The ink of her pen was like blood rushing from her veins to create magical lyrics.
Music and poetry was her escape from a life of cruelty and rejection,
Her talent was hidden, so no one could help her reach her potential.
As the girl grew, her abuse never stopped, there seemed no end,
With constant memories of painful yesterdays and a childhood lost.

She used her incessant pains and struggles to enhance her music,
Writing hours upon hours of poetry and songs, self-teaching brilliance…
Deep inside she yearned for someone to understand her, to see her…
If not, but one, she would be wholly satisfied

Many nights she would find herself crying uncontrollably, 
The darkness of the room enveloping her every being
She could see the past in her mind’s eye and be reminded of the sick present
She began to hate her father, and every brat at her school
She cursed death and life alike, and envied her mother’s eternal sleep
Everyone who spat their insult, everyone who remained silent and apathetic,
She hated them with a passion so self-destructive, it burned her raw scars...
Teaching herself to hold it in, so that on paper she could create masterpieces
And prove all of the monsters around her wrong…
In silence, she recalled the worst memories to shame further her reality.
A part of her knew that she was incredibly talented,
Though the darkness often blinded her with guilt
She felt that she did not deserve even a voice,
Her writings were but a sick reminder of demons she could never conquer
Shivering in the cold, her skin dirty and dry,
Ugly…ugly…was the only word she could live by

One night, she contemplated taking her life…
She vowed all of her suffering would meet a greater purpose,
Beyond the grave…beyond fear of hell beneath
She was dirt after all, like the kids always told her
How much worse could it be, facing the flames she was born in?
She threw the kitchen knife down and looked up at the stars above
Even Death would reject her, she knew…
In acceptance, she acknowledged her ugliness and became a stunning underdog
Rebellion sifted through her veins and her strength brought fear to her father
Bullies looked at her as if she was the devil himself
No one could tell her what to do any more,
And nobody would ever understand her
Though that was okay…
Because that is all she ever knew

Ten years later, the rotten roller coaster continued
Though a fateful night of circumstance had led her right on the stage
Men were mesmerized by her fierceness and apathy
Not being able to grasp each significant line layered in truth
She showed none mercy as she slayed ruthless chords of wonder
Her voice rang angelically, mixed with the fires and tears of her life
Echoing beyond the grave of cold Death… beyond what was wrong or right
It was her silence that stunned the audience the most
Those eyes, having seen so much…felt so much…hid so much…
That cut mouth, with the eternal dry trickle of a bitter tear
The world was not prepared for her intolerable genius,
Just as she was not prepared for their astonished applause..

A collaboration between Laura Breidenthal and the Silent One.
7 August 2015

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |

Just Like A Child Without Borders

Just like a child I toss pebbles in the stream Each pebble is a wish Every ripple is my dream I dream of running freely my face against the wind Hear it's million voices and the cicadas sing. I dream of climbing treetops to a majestic world a world of happy faces where everyone 's a friend. I dream of sharing cookies with those we' ve made come poor I dream to share hot milk where we've created war. Just like a child I wait for falling raindrops to cleanse away dry mud Mud that turned in mountains of an untraveled path. Mud molding the borders so innocent can't pass Why do we refuse them when they are one of us ? Just like a child I forget the bruises all over my knees I dance into the moonlight along with flowing leaves. I return to my place with a kite still soaring high but cannot lay in my bed while others sleep outside. How can I be hopeful when innocence 's not pure When lonely tears are prescribed treatments without cure Just like a child I toss pebbles in the stream Each pebble is a wish Every ripple is my dream .
Dedicated to the men, women , and children , leaving their countries, , their homes, trying to find a safe place to stay, to escape war , yet still behind boarders . P.S - When I say We , I mean it - For our countries, our politicians, and our voices - We can do better.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bio | |

Morning Dew

       Morning Dew

Does no one hear depth of this darkness
Of it's presence within our mist
So heavy it rains on the Glory of life
We choose to let it be
Not to see 
Words of choice
To hide it from display
It will grow
From seed 
To plant 
To tree
It's roots of hate have already captured some 
I thought these souls were safe from harm
But now they have joined and seem bound to the roots that have entangled them
No where 
To run 
To hide
The daylight grows darker daily as it struggles to survive 
How can mankind repeat these atrocities over an over
Justifying their hate in any form 
We have learned nothing
For our young we create the gift
Of hope
Of love
So wondrous in the  morning dew
Why have we chosen again and again to Let the darkness rule our days.....

Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

The tire swing

A tire swing hanging from a willow tree
barely swaying to and fro
my small feet sweep
and kick up dirt 
on the ground beneath and below.
                        
Under a cold damp gray sky
safety is found here in the yard
from the darkness of the house
and the many things
I want to forget and discard.
                                            
As the rope holds my weight
my little mind is lost
too young to grasp the damage 
or understand the cost.
                  
I am the master of holding back tears
a lump keeps words from escaping
I scream silently inside 
keeping my thoughts from shaping.
                 
Slowly the motion rocks my fear to sleep
and I come back to where I came
imagination takes over
burying sad places
in my little frame.
                        
My thoughts set free to run with wonder
oh how I love this tree 
that I'm under.
           
Peace found while floating in a soft rubber tire
dark soul lit again 
twirling under and
higher and higher.
                   
Like scars that fade but never go away
rope has left a mark still Imprinted on the tree limb
In that yard
today.
 

                                           7/20/15

Copyright © Lee Carter | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Maltese Maiden

There was once a maiden who lived by the sea with lustrous lips that dried too soon like early dew perched on a tree . She once was beautiful with skin so fair A veil of lilacs covered her hair. Her eyes the brightest of moonglow beams Her voice, a drifting wave on a late night breeze. Her dimpled smile lit each dark alley Her carefree spirit reached every valley. This little maiden had never married though noble blood her womb has carried. Undressed from innocence, her tender flesh has felt the warmth of drunken breath. His fingertips exposed her neck and then trailed down along her back. She couldn't move, She couldn't scream At last, She ran not to be seen. She ran so fast to be set free She raised her son, lone by the sea.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Stolen Youth

I took a stroll around my mind today
And there I found images, visions at play:
I saw a child, happy carefree
I somehow knew that child wasn’t me
More of a hope, a dream that never came true
That dream, that illusion was shattered by you
I saw a teen innocent naive
For that misled youth I often grieve
I see a bride and her husband to be
But for me that door’s locked and you hold the key
I see the life I should have know
The type of environment in which I should have grown
You’ve taken so very much from my life, 
From my sister, your daughter, my mother, your wife
You’ve haunted my days and tortured my nights
To the memories you leave me I can put up no fight.
I will never forgive you for the pain that you’ve caused
The whole of my life has been slowed down or paused
I only hope that one day I’ll see
How to trust again and learn to be me

________________________________________________

April is child abuse awareness month.
According to Ofsted, 3 children die every week from child abuse in the UK and Wales

Copyright © Kat Crane | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Suplicant Child

(Twirling the rosary beads between her for-finger and her thumb she holds the crystal 
Necklace to the window and squints in the sun)
"Hail Mary full of grace, can you show me your face oh please so I can talk to you 
Bout Mamma.  She get sick went to the hospitable and I miss her a lot  
Dad says I need to take care of the house and do the dishes but I can’t do the tall ones  
The udder day I broke the salad bowl.  I cried …..Could you fix mamma’s chest so her heart don’t need the machine and she don’t have to stay in that awful white hospitable wit the smelly indefectant. Mamma says you hear every thing, 
Hail Mary blessed is die room and baby Jesus in it, " 

(In the kitchen two men are getting drunk on home made wine, one clonks down to the cellar to refill the wine carafe while the other staggers towards her room)

"Please Mother Mary make him go away, and make daddy run out of wine so Uncle 
Has to go home to Zia, cuz she’s mad when he does things"
 
(She slides underneath the bed and sticks the necklace over her head holding the crucifix to a tattered scapular, on heaving chest,)

"Please make him go away, please make him go away, or make his heart break up too sorry Mudder Mary, I just peed my pants cuz I’m scared "

(The fades walls lay silent as a bust of the Blessed Virgin Mary hangs over her 
bed, she is crying tears of blood, it's a sign of her deep compassion and her brokenness)

The End 

PS: As I recall this experience, it isn't so much the words I uttered that bite 
but the memory of the isolation I felt, not having a mother close by for protection, at a time when a child needed it most. This was a difficult poem to write, it stirred 
my soul as I wrote it, my advice to parents, stay sober for your children's sake
xxx 

    

Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

Jail Pains

I wake up in pain
my wrists have shiny handcuffs 
I am in jail  

My heart feels ice-cold
It will not stop its beating 
I wish it would stop

My cell mate is gone
I am feeling so alone
I just want to die

Copyright © Ellie Fields | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

The Punching Bag - Through the Eyes of a Child

The Punching Bag - Through the Eyes of a Child
Each day the pattern was the same, for all Dad’s shortcomings, my Mom got the blame. WHACK! He cursed her for all his lost dreams… WHACK! For missed opportunities, and failed schemes. WHACK! Dad would hit his punching bag again, to release all his pent-up frustration and pain.
When he felt inadequate and couldn’t cope with life, he resorted to battering Mom, his “beloved” wife. Of course, it was always her fault that things were bad; so he made her suffer for all the troubles he had. Inflicting her with insults, black-eyes, concussions, and cuts, he claimed that she deserved them because she was like all sluts.
Craftily he played on her bully-enforced meekness, getting down on his knees to beg for her forgiveness. Moods swinging like a pendulum from night to day, his promises were empty - he would never change his vile ways. Predictably, he continued to torment her as he pleased, degrading and abusing her…he never ceased.
He figured low self-esteem would prevent Mom from leaving; and that she was a nobody, he really had her believing. He was oh so convinced that needed audacity she lacked, to ever think of opposing him, or of fighting him back. Besides, with no family around, no job, and no dough, he smugly concluded that she had no place else to go.
God knows she was weary of existing in this hell on earth; and I was tired of seeing her endure all that unbearable hurt. I had had enough of being terrified by that despicable monster, who had ruined her and made our lives an utter disaster. After convincing Mom that inevitably I’d suffer the same fate, one night, we finally escaped to a shelter before it was too late.
8-31-2015 *** (Note: Thank God, nothing like this ever happened to me. But this piece is dedicated to those many women and their children who are victims of domestic violence. According to Domestic Violence Statistics, around the world, at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime. Most often, the abuser is a member of her own family. Based on reports from 10 countries, between 55 percent and 95 percent of women, who had been physically abused by their partners, had never contacted non-governmental organizations, shelters, or the police for help.

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Where echoes hide

Negativity echoes in the distressed and disillusioned mind
Crashing like Tsunami waves beating you in time

I am no good...                                I am no good...

I am no good...                                I am no good...

Words echo in my mind!                   Words echo in my mind!

Negativity echoes in the distressed and disillusioned mind
Crashing like Tsunami waves beating you in time

I am no good...                                I am no good...

I am no good...                                I am no good...

No inner peace can I find.                 No inner peace can I find.

Empty recesses in the mind, amplify recorded tunes of abuse
Allowing discordant reverberations in a mind obtuse.

What's wrong with you?                    What's wrong with you?

What's wrong with you?                    What's wrong with you?

I ask myself                                     I ask myself

I ask myself                                     I ask myself

Empty recesses in the mind, amplify recorded tunes of abuse
Allowing discordant reverberations in a mind obtuse.

Words echo in my mind                    Words echo in my mind

Words echo in my mind                    Words echo in my mind


Negativity echoes in the distressed and disillusioned mind
Crashing like Tsunami waves beating you in time
Empty recesses in the mind, amplify recorded tunes of abuse
Allowing discordant reverberations in a mind obtuse.

Change the channel! Do it now! Before you die inside!
Don't allow negativity to grow in the hollows of your mind
because...
That's the place where malevolent echoes hide.

John Derek Hamilton
December 09,2015

For where echoes hide contest
sponsored by John Lawless






Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

The Wild Child

My past was violent.
My world was quaint.
They made me a demon,
instead of a saint.
My past was full of cruelty.
They called it love.
I only felt the darkness,
as they preached from above.
They said I was a sinner,
that I should change my ways.
Whilst I cried with fury,
I hoped, an end to my days.
They shackled my wrists,
and tried to warp my mind.
Telling me, in Gods love,
freedom I would find.
With pride and arrogance,
they did this to a child.
They tried to birth a sheep.
Born rather, an animal that is wild.

-Angel Fatale-

Copyright © Ryan Tyler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet | |

Modern monsters

Is it fear indoctrinated in to our head, or are there monsters hiding under our bed. Are they stories to scare a child to behave, or are you tempting the dead to leave their grave. As mysterious shadows embrace the night, are you proud you've made your child sleep in fright? For there are monstrosities that do exist, demons hiding as humans in the mist. It's not vampires nor werewolves that cause fear today, paedophiles are the danger you need to keep away. Pretending to be a child behind a screen, manipulating them, to behave obscene. On vulnerable children they will prey, so be careful they are not led astray. All parents need to protect their child from this beast, or in your ignorance, they'll become their next feast.
27 May 2016 Boogeyman - Poetry Contest by Nayda Ivette Negron

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bio | |

Battle Of Evermore

When I was just a wee young thing 
I was taught life's lesson well    
Ere instead of childhood revelry 
mine would be a children's hell    
    
As a child I'd learned in life 
you choose to live or choose to die    
That for some are chosen happiness 
And for the rest to reason why    
    
I could weep and moan at life so cruel 
or lament in deep despair    
Would it help me if I wring my hands 
while pulling out my hair?    
    
Would it put me in a better place  
if I took it lying down?    
Nay, I think I would be just as dead 
if in self pity I did drown    
    
So I did, I think, the only thing my childish mind could do    
With the power of imagination  and a fantasy or two    
    
I did don a suit of honor,
I did guard o'er children's door    
And like any worthwhile soldier  
I would battle evermore    
    
While most children softly slumber
dreaming dreams that hold no fright    
As the children's chosen warrior
who had taken up their plight    
    
I did lay awake and listen 
in the darkness through the door      
For the sneaking sound his bare feet made 
down hall on linoleum floor    
    
As I pray to a god who was not there 
to help my battle plans go right    
Twas I alone in the dark with my Ball and Jax 
who would be waging war this night    
    
With my hands I stifled giggles 
my mind envisioning in the black    
Of the pain, glorious pain, to befall his feet 
as he stumbled on my Jax    
    
I laughed as I lay there pondering 
if the makers of this children's game    
had ever dreamed that their tiny Ball and Jax 
would one night save four girls from shame    
    
HUSH! I hear him coming!  
I have caught him unaware    
As his feet crossed o'er the battle lines 
I swear his scream could curl your hair    
    
I laughed till I cried, as he hopped while he tried    
to get away from my midnight attack    
Under the unscrewed hall light, he stood cursing the child      
who had left out her Jax in the night    
    
The beating was worth all the joy and the mirth    
that his dance down the hall gave that night    
    
After winning round one, I vowed I would fight on    
Evermore as a soldier, FIGHT ON.    
    
    
I'd decided as a very young child of abuse, that I would never go down without a fight.    
I spent my entire childhood and teenage years in a silent battle with my father.    
    
A battle never spoken of, but a battle none the less.

Copyright © shaunda lindsay | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

She was only 5

She was only five and this is what
happened when she was alive

Ser dad was a drunk her mom was an addict
They always kept her locked up in the attic

Her only friend was a toy bear
and it was old and worn with patches of hair

She always talked to it when nobody was around
she layed there and hugged it with not a peep of sound

Until her parents unlocked the door
some more pain she'll have to endore

Bruise on her leg scare on her face
why would she have to be in such a horrible place

She grabs her bear and softly cries
she loves her parents but they want her to die 

She sits in the corner quiet but thinking
god why is my life always sinking

Such a bad life for a sad little kid
she got beaten and beaten for anything she did

And then one night her mom came home high
and she got beaten as the hours went by

Then her mom suddenly grabbed for a blade
it was sharp and pointy the one that she made

She thrusted the blade right in her chest
you deserve to die you worthless little pest

The mom walked out leaving the girl slowly dieing
she grabbed hey bear and again started crying

The police showed up at the small little house
and quickly barged in everything quiet as a mouse

One officer slowly opened a door
to find the little girl lieing on the floor

It must have been hard to go thourgh so much harm
but at least she died with her best friend in her arms

A child dies every day from child abuse and if you have an ounce of pity in your 
heart for little auorura and you hate child abuse do something about it and let 
them know that someone cares about them

Copyright © dillon hunt | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme | |

Alcohol Love---Family Fear

Push and shove
Punch and hit
Throwing a bad violent fit
Never knowing what you did
Because the liquor left it hid
Remembering is hard to do
When it takes control of you
You try and stop with group support
But one sip and you  abort
All the senses telling you
This is a bad thing to do
Having fun with all your friends
Swigging every drink they send
With each one you can’t hold back
You start to hit and start to smack
A child who don’t understand
Why other daddy’s use their hands
To hold and love their little ones
But she has to hide and run
So afraid and scared to death
With every hit she holds her breath
Praying for her life each  time
He does this violent act of crime

Copyright © robin davis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic | |

Someone please help me

  Through my eyes what do you see
  A broken frightened child is me.
  Slaps an punches I will receive
  Throughout this day was the key
  Someone   "please help me"
 
  Life is dark here, no sun shines
  through, only darkness follows me.
  No where to run  No where to hide
  I wish I would of died.
  Someone  "please help me"

  Pretends an Lies are this place
  Many many scars upon my face.
  Black an blue is my body
  I wish that I had somebody 
  to take this pain away.
  Someone "please help me"

  Cold an alone is my life here 
  A few years old an never told
  I love you dear,  just come here
  Momma's here.
  Broken bones are just a game
  that sometimes just takes place
  Someone "please help me"
 
  One blow to my skull to much
  Mommy an Daddy's final touch
  Blood over flows the floor
  An Daddy gives me just one more
  No more tears upon my face 
  My life will be forever erased 
  Someone "please find me"
 
  Pain an hate at only eight
  was a life for me in hell. 
  Where Mommy an Daddy
  will rot in Jail.
  
  
  





Copyright © anita harris | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

A Lamenting Mother:

 War has stolen my children,
War snatched my sweetest things, god’s given;
War robbed my children from being ‘hidden’
War demolished my tiniest hope,
War has made me a body without soul.
I’ve seen bullets killing my children,
I’ve heard babies cry,
It maims my soul the way babies die;
I have nowhere to fly.
War didn’t spare a single child,
Bombs fell on smiling babies,
Weapons snatched our babies from cradle,
Ignominious war sent them to grave.
I’ve seen atrocious appearance of war,
To raise my voice I dare,
I am solo face on crowd
You can’t kill us blasting bombs loud,
I will finally hold revenge’s sword,
I want to listen my baby’s shout.
Where are my bubbly chirpy children?
When shall this war end?
When will the toys get back their owner?
When shall they again play with dolls?
War has taken over one million children,
War has made moms bed-ridden,
War has turned off the way of life,
War owed everything to malice.
Why did war kill Zelena’s new born?
Why did it take away 5 yrs old Adnaan?
Regina’s little head struck by splinter
My heart is dead like cold winter.
I play with soft toys of my children,
I weep over their lost childhood
I kiss their tiny fur shoes,
I wash their colorful clothes 
To lessen my woes!!
I shake Sana’s round rattle,
I count days of battle
My lips get chapped,
My tears get dried,
But I never stop waiting,
For my little children to return,
War can’t rob our children,
It just robs the future citizens!! 


Copyright © Jayeeta Shamsul | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

Haunting Memories



             Haunting Memories
                         The Safety Zone



    It feels like I have wind chimes in my feet
        The tingling feeling is that intense
            Pins and needles keep pestering me
                But obedience is my best defense

                    Every single step is a painful memory
                        Of the childhood I never got to see
                            Walking on glass eggshells metaphorically
                                Watching my feet continually bleed

                                Too young to understand what was happening
                            So obediently I tried to be brave
                        Every night I had to cry myself to sleep
                    I hadn't even lived yet but wished for my grave

                Punishment handed out like it was an offering
            Like my pain was some sort of sadistic prize
        Hiding away in the backyard that covered me
    Holding my breath and closing my eyes




                              bmdavey@05/18/16

Copyright © Brian Davey | Year Posted 2016

Details | Epic | |

I sneak away from my past

I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
What you see you can't believe
that this life is of me.
Raped an burned cut an sliced
by daddy big ole knife.

I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
The things You made me do
an the things you did to me
would make you cry you see.

A child so young an afraid
black an blue maybe grey
she never has anything to say.
Broken bones every now an then
as Mommy sets there an just grins.

I sneak away from the past 
looking through a mirrored glass
I pretend every things ok
As daddy looks this way
an tells me just what to say.

I sneak away from the past 
while looking through that 
mirrored glass as my time here
has almost past.

I leave this world far behind
as mommy an daddy's world 
will shine.
Locked away for ever in a day
This is where they'll always stay.

 












Copyright © anita harris | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bio | |

Daddy's Dime

I was three the first time i remember 
seeing mamas bedroom walls 
springtime colors on her quilt 
Though it really could of been December 

I don't remember much at all 
I have to thank god for that 
except for his soft footsteps down the hall 
not Gods cause he was still asleep 
I didn't know enough to be afraid,  YET 

He came in the room, that's when I still loved him 
then I was on the bed, daddy loves you 
daddy saying shh shh, don't talk 
we're hiding from mama, I giggled 

and then the pain, stop it shaunda, be quiet 
be a quiet girl and I'll give you a dime 
I didn't like it one bit or the sounds either 
I turned my head and saw mamas messy shoes in her closet 

I loved mamas shoes and I always put them in a row 
in her closet nice and neat 
she always gave me a nickel and said very good Shaunda 
that's  when I still loved her 
and she still loved me 


I watched the shoes through the pain thinking 
when daddies done I'm gonna straighten those shoes 
all in a row so mama will give me a nickel 
and why do dimes hurt so bad 
 

All this running through my head laying on her bed 
while the sounds and the pain intermingle 
in my body and mind while wondering 
why Karrie gets to go to school 
and why oh why can't I be five too 

Ahh. The joy of childhood memories uncensored

Copyright © shaunda lindsay | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? | |

A Stepmothers love

Hug him,
Comfort him,
Nurture him,
Her guise a sweet yet cunning ruse.

Break him,
Twist him,
Ruin him,
She was my fathers own to choose.

Hold him,
Calm him,
Kiss him,
A joyless game to play.

Drown him,
Choke him,
Smother him,
I almost died that day.

Breath taking,
Promise making,
Seraphim,
Two minds two worlds apart,

Soul faking,
Heart raking,
Psychopath,
I saw this from the start..

Copyright © Rohan Moran | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Through the Eyes of A Child

It’s not fair 
But then it never is
All the teachers
All the learning that they got
It couldn't prepare them 
Could it?
It couldn't stop it 
Or halt it
Or even control it?
The whirlwind that is I

All the promises and
All the lies
It was all too much
It was never enough

I tried
They didn’t
The whispers behind my back
The taunts, and jeers;
Even the teachers 
Who are supposed to protect 
and keep order;
Just walk away
Just ignore her
She’ll go away

Yes Mrs. Mother 
Well stop it
Don’t worry

Freak
Vampire
Weirdo
She has coodies
She’s creepy
No one likes you
Go away
No one wants’ to play with a lesbian like you
It would be so much better if she were gone
I wish she would just leave forever

Would it?
Could it?
Was it?
I left
I hide
I never showed my face
But you still;

What did I ever do to you?
What could I have done to you?
I was only ten
Just barely out of childhood really
But I can't really blame you...can i?
No I can't

My only option left
Was silence
Did it make you happy?
Did you smile?
Was all that work
All that cruelty
All that heartache;

Was it worth it?
Did it finally make you feel better?
Like you were better,
More powerful?

Who was your next victim?
Never mind.
Not like it matters
They didn't help them either
I suppose

You can't see
You refuse to see
Just like the teachers
They all failed
Not only me

But you
And
Every
Other
Child
That
Was 
Forgotten,
Lost,
And
Alone.

I hope you all are proud.

Copyright © Rayne Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!

Copyright © Farhana Akter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ghazal | |

Poor Child

Standing all alone on the hill, poor child,
Staring at the town’s old mill, poor child.

If daddy only hadn’t lost his job last year,
Maybe he’d be living with us still, poor child.

Winters coming soon he’ll need some shoes,
He doesn’t even have a dollar bill, poor child.

He rubs his hungry tummy as a tear fills up his eye,
But you won’t hear him cry for he is still, poor child.

He wanders off to find some scraps to eat,
Digs in the dumpster near the grill, poor child.

The boy then seeks a place to rest his head,
Thankful that he still has one more pill, poor child.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
2012

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad | |

I'm Sorry

 im sorry ive caused you pain.
i thank you for sticking by me through everything.
and not giving up on me. i dnt no what
i would do if you had given up on me.
 
Im sorry ive lied to your face and you knew it,
but you still loved me the same as before.
so i thank you.
i dont know if i would be here with you if you had given up on me.
 
im sorry ive broken your trust over and over,
and you still wanna trust me.
i thank you again.
i dont know wat i would have done if you didnt trust me.
 
im sorry ive done things behind your back,
even though i promised you i would never do them.
im sure you knw but you never said anything.
i wish you would have. it would have saved us all alot of pain
 
i thank you for never giving up on me.
i dont no how to tell you how much i love you.
 
mom i love you sooooooo much you wont ever no how much i love u and thank you for everything

Copyright © jaremy mount Jr | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

Stolen Children

Within life's cesspool, captives held for trade,
Along infested ways where young-child rape
Is glorified by twisted souls who gape
And for the purity of babes are paid.
In dim, demonic dwellings are they laid
And sold to loathsome loves who drape
Stolen innocence in sin's evil curse--
Beyond protection or rescuing raid;
The shadowy officials turn the head
To wink or sometimes join the savage curse.
Somewhere sad, broken parents, sobbing, lie,
Tortured days and nights saturate with dread
While ever fuller grows the sex trade's purse:
The victims cry alone and ask God why.

May 3, 2014

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Life is so precious, so hard to keep

Life is so precious, so hard to keep.
Daddy died, a baby were discovered.
Secretly growing in my young daughters body.

A mixture of all cultures, all races but my first chance at a legacy.
The clashes in the mixture were brutal.  
The blows were deep.  
The killing words, the verbal harassments, the evil projected onto white faces.  

A beautiful child, chubby cheeks, vibrant smile, loving nature searching to be accepted by those she loved.  Asking little with so much to offer.  

Oh how I love that child.  
I want to protect her.  
I want her to be safe.  
I want her to know that someone loves her unconditionally.  

But it is not about me..
She is now an adult...
I have no right to her business...
I can not save her life. 

 Whether this love can be transmitted over thousands of miles is the question.  
Whether she feels this love...and the love of God that can pull her through.  

My beautiful child. 
 Please find that strength. 
 Please recognize the beautiful person you are.  
Please live.

Copyright © Gen Cambridge | Year Posted 2014