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Child Abuse Poems | Abuse Poems About Child

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

Details | Rhyme | |

TOMORROW

Tomorrow we can save the world
Tomorrow we'll have world peace
Tomorrow we'll cure breast cancer
Tomorrow's victories will not cease
Tomorrow we'll love the unlovely
Tomorrow we'll irradiate disease
Tomorrow we'll eliminate poverty
Tomorrow cruel prejudice will ease
Tomorrow we'll clean all the oceans
Tomorrow we'll end war and despair
Tomorrow we'll treasure our planet
Tomorrow we'll see love everywhere
Tomorrow there are good intentions
Tomorrow so much can be done
Tomorrow we'll all come together
Tomorrow I'll be more than one..

But today one is all who sees him
An orphan child pimped on the street
His face is bruised and battered
He has no shoes to cover his feet
He is only one of a 153 million
What difference could only one make
I'll only find out by seizing the day
Waiting for tomorrow is a big mistake

Carpe Diem.. Tomorrow's too late!

Contest: Regina's "Seize The Day!"
Date: 10-28-14


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!! 



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


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


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


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


Details | Sonnet | |

Stolen Children -- Miltonic Sonnet

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


Details | Rhyme | |

NOW I LAY ME

Now I lay me down to sleep
In my home that's really sweet
Had three large meals and a snack
There wasn't a hint of any lack
Comfortable shoes and clothes that fit
My heart's desires my money can get
Friends and family know my name
So many opportunities it's just insane
Doctors and dentists, heat and air
A hope and a future.. No despair
Little chance I'll die before I wake
But if I do, my soul God will take.

But the homeless orphan goes to sleep
His unbathed body on a filthy street
Sold himself today to get a meal
From a slimy stranger with a dollar bill
No life, no skills, no future, no hope
No family, no friends, no heat, no coat
No shelter, no job, no doctor, no care
No money, no support, no help anywhere
Despair and neglect, a fight to survive
A shell of a child more dead than alive
And if this orphan dies before he wakes
Will he know God his soul to take?

Contrast Poem
Copyright © 2011 Dave Wood


Details | Epic | |

Mommy Why

 Molested the first fifteen years of my life. My mother remained silent the whole time. As the molesting continued all those years. Forced to live a pretend life all my childhood. Beaten and punished every other day. For no reason other than being a child. After all this I figured I was a unwanted child. My mother couldn't love me abusing me. She brought me fancy expensive clothes every year. To cover up all her verbal, mental, and physical abuse. She tried to hide me from people, family and friends. So that they wouldn't see the embarrassing scars and bruises. Sometimes so bad I couldn't even go to school the next day. Or I would get into fights or act rude to get a suspension notice. That would have allowed my body to heal. One time I even tried to get ex-spelled. However, it didn't work. I only came home to more beatings. Her boyfriend watched and help hold me down on the floor as she would beat, and beat, and beat. Maybe this gave him a idea that it was ok to abuse me. Being that my mother was already doing it. Yeah! From the outside looking in my childhood was perfect. Every child wanted my seat. Name-brand clothes, shoes, computers, and almost every toy in the Jc Penny catalog. From the inside looking out I was screaming to get out. Scared, alone, abused, and still a child. So there was nothing I could do. I had no brothers or sisters at the time. All my family wouldn't believe me.No! Not him they would say, and did say at age fifteen I started getting older, and more developed. I had to put a stop to this. So after talking to some school friends. I decided to talk to my mother about what was going on.  So later on that night I called my mother in to talk to her. I had told her what had been going on. while she was a work, and out late shopping. She in return asked me  to draw a picture of his *****. As if she didn't believe me on the spot. What! I thought to myself. How could she ask me a thing like that? After one hour she finally called the police. I was brung in also for video questioning. I told them what had been going on  in the house while my mother was away. The police in return asked me "what took so long for me to tell" I replied" I was scared, alone, and threatened. I had no one in the house to protect me. From my mothers abusive ways. I thought people would tease me." The next question was to my mother.  The police asked "How could you live in the same house, and not know that your child was being raped?" My mother sat quietly and had no answer. So she got charged with neglect. My mother's boyfriend got charged with child molestation, and a few other things. I can't remember them all. After all that I was still scared, but finally free. Free to be a kid again.
    Awh, hell the relationship between my mother and I went down the drain. After trial  she hated me even more. Every day she was threatening to kick me out of the house. I was only sixteen so she couldn't just kick me out. Yet! She even got so angry at times. She went as far as not letting me communicate with my newborn brother.  She even told people to keep him away from me. That hurt me so bad everyday. I prayed to God everyday to soften my mother's heart, but it never happened. When I turned eighteen she finally kicked me out the house for real. With no place to go, no money , and no food to eat.  I ended up living with family and friends until she let me back in. I don't know why, but I thought things had changed. About a week after moving she called the police and told them that I was prostituting. Which was a lie. Thank God I didn't spend time in jail. Due to her lies and deceit. I never thought I would have to leave my own mother alone. However, after that incident that was my final decision. Sporadically I call her to hear her voice, and check on my brother. Unfortunately she never answers the phone. Her guilt for abusing me won't let her answer the phone.
    I moved to Albany, NY for a fresh start. A new beginning! There I met  more friends, moved into a brand new apartment, and fell in love. I wasn't expecting to fall in love, but I did. With a adorable, hot, and sexy Italian guy. For the first time my life was great, and I was happy. I even tried some plus size modeling, nursing, and I started self-publishing my writings. I was accomplishing things that my mother never encouraged me to do.
 After about four years I started feeling homesick . So I came back to Virginia. Wow! What destruction was happening. My whole  family fell apart. Nothing or nobody were the same. They all became police property. That was a sign to continue to stay away from them. Continue my happy life. Continue self-publishing my stories. Praying to God everyday. that I remain successful. This is a true story. Unfortunately it happened to me. From a mother who brung me in this world. Only to use and abuse me my whole entire childhood. Then pretend that nothings even going on.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .


The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "


Details | Free verse | |

Return Of Your King

Reflections of imperfections have shown me a way that I can move mountains through my power of faith even though I can't see him I know he is real through the power of prayer and a Love that I feel It's growing inside me like a flower in bloom shall I reveal my powers or is it too soon I am reading the signs through my darkness I find a reason for belief in the light of mankind that I know shall overcome the greatest of odds the Love I seek amazes me especially through the flaws because now I am inspired through the hero's that bring my throne through the darkness on which I return on as your King.


Details | Free verse | |

For An Abused Child

If I Could Have Gotten Your Embryo
Before You Were Born
I Would Have Sheltered You Safely
and Protected Your Form ...

I'd Have Put You In My Womb
& Flowed You Knowledge Like In A Tubric
& Patted My Expanding Belly
As I Played You Music

And As You Got Ready
To Arrive From The Birth Canal
You Would've Known My Breasts
Would Be Ringing Like Welcome Bells! ...

Eager To Suckle You
Breast Feed My Own Flesh & Nourish
So You Could Grow Strong
... In Love's Encourage

I Would've Held You In Wonder
& So Close Tenderly
Amazed At This Little Bundle,
Breathing, Piece of Me ...

And When You Turned One
Or As You Sucked Your Thumb
Or Eating Baby Food Jars of Plums
... I'd Have Given You Trumpets & Drums

... And Building Alphabet Blocks
& Superman Capes
& Stuffed Teddy Bears
& Oatmeal Cookies & Grapes

I'd Have Read You Stories
From Capt. Adventure Books
You'd Have Known You Were Loved
By My Proud Mama Looks

I'd Have Spent Time With You
Showing You How To Tie Your Shoe
Rocked You If You Caught The Flu
or Any Sniffles You Went Through ...

I Would Have Played With You
& Prayed With You
From Crawling To Walking
Paved The Way For You

Yeah, I Would Have Fussed At You
& When Needed Even Spanked You Too
& I'd Meant: This Hurts Me More Than You
'Cause You're The Little Symbiot, Mama Grew

So, You Would Have Known
You Were Loved & Treasured
You Would Have Known
Your Worth Couldn't Be Measured

Nor Compared To Anyone Else
At Any Point In Time
'Cause You Are The Best
Because You Were "Mine"

* * * * * * *

But I Never Knew You
But Believe Me If I Had ...
I'd A Made Sure You Had 
A Loving Mom & Dad

And You Would've Never Been Abused
Or Treated Bad ...
But From Now On Find Your Joy
To Replace What's Sad


            Written & Copyrighted ©:  9/12/2013 
             by:  MoonBee Canady


Details | Haiku | |

Child Labor

                    A child on the street
                           Begging for something to eat
                                      "Future's prevented".


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Lost Boys

Little boy lost in echoes of his past.
Not knowing though never forgetting.
In things that linger in memories unspoken.
Lost and alone always foreboding thoughts.
Dreams of nightmares scattered across his mind.
Colors always dark and muted in a fog.
So many drugs on this lost highway.
Some days were filled with blue skies.
Most often then not colors of gray muted walls.
Bruises were a constant on wrists and ankles.
There is always that sinking feeling rising up.
Words and memories flashed through his mind.
It is a place of control except no control at all.
It is free reign here to do what is pleasing for some.
The mind can take you away from places you can't deal with.
He locked away secrets, deep inside, as he tried to forget.
As he watched the paintings on the wall changing forms.
As they took him places he longed to be, to forget things.
He did not want to see, dreams of nightmares and evil things .
As this boy never understood bringing to near death.
 When the song of the holy rang out in his ears.
He thought he had nothing in this life to fear. 
And in the end this lost boy slipped off to heaven.
Never to be seen again, with no one to cry for him.
 




3am  3/ 24/ 2012    I took the liberty of putting 3- 4 stories in one poem/ my X was a cop, and he told me a few stories of him & his team rescuing those boys .


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.


Details | Couplet | |

THE VERDICT

Copyright © 2013
07/17/2013

Skittles and a soda
against a gun in its holster?

One day that scream
will be known as a teen
not a heinous lying Fein

What a sinister ploy and twist
with a loaded gun and no fist?

Had everyone sitting and waiting
doomed by a verdict just delaying

Was this just an optical illusion
or, a devious planned conclusion?

Now, this generation too afraid
wearing hoodies will get you dead

But, the Klan was still glad
hoodies they've always had

A verdict they too saw,
ushering in martial law


by: LP
edited: 7/30/13


Details | Narrative | |

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay



Details | Free verse | |

Love And Pricks

I Love the elderly so full of history I love my generation who kept me a mystery I love the children who's future, now bright for I have died for them to capture the light for i understand pain more than ever once I released it the anger got better as it went away from the people and into my music without a single reason to prove it without a reason to let Love's light in I didn't, it found me and lesser I sin God and my father both let me know it would all be okay so very long ago even tho the road would be full of pricks even back then I'd tell them you can all suck my dick. -Bj Fard


Details | Epic | |

Betch Please, Really

I simply love being me for I am so good at everything step into my city and they will tell you who is King one day when I am hungry I will swallow everything then and only then shall I inherit the stuff I dream even then I promise not to settle for satisfaction at any instant half a second I could spring into full action so go against me? please, you do not even measure up to half of the goodness that I hold tight like my treasure still spreading rumors about me to try and destroy my life can't believe I let myself get beat by a stripper and my self-intended knife try and say I'm gay even though we both know that isn't the truth just ask any woman I been with if they ever needed proof they'll say I was the cream of the crop as they took it all night knowing I just may never stop I own the status of a legend now what you got left to say when I bring it twenty-four seven?


Details | Rhyme | |

Living Under The Weight Of A Label

The blind leading the blind, what is seen is how its heard
the thoughts that make the story are lost behind the words
do you see it as you view it, or take a deeper look 
do you read into the narrative or judge the cover of the book

Is the figure cold and dirty, the shell of what he's made 
or the unforgiven soul, that is waiting to be saved
does that body clad so poorly hold more than what is shown 
or just another mannequin, that has reaped just what was sown

Did you spare a dollar this morning or was your vision blind
or was that lonesome beggar just in the shadows of your mind 
you see that youth with his hooded clothes and jeans hung round his waist 
could he be a high school scholar or does his style not suit your taste 

That girl there, with the pushchair, yes she has a name 
does she love the child she carried, or did she play a stupid game 
And that solemn face behind the bars,the prisoner to his crime
Or the broken life held captive and the victim of a lie

That woman in the wheelchair, animated by expression
does she really have no hopes and dreams or are you too deaf to listen
that classy car, the modest tie, the briefcase at his side
is there a dark deceitful truth, buried deep beneath his pride

no life ahead with a dead end job, shovelling gruel from a grease filled tray
or the maturing child of a broken home, paying bills 'mum' couldn't pay
two babies need to find new homes, is it proof she couldn't cope
or could she not make the perfect life so instead she gave them hope

So they live on a rough estate, they're deviant thieving 'yobs'
and see their buttoned shirts and ties, they're private school 'snobs'
do you just see flecks of peeling paint, view this canvas as a whole 
or define each stroke of the artists brush that reach right to the soul

If opportunity played a fairer game and made judgement realise
then possibility could do its part, allow wisdom to remove disguise
yet with judgement passed and truth unseen, realisation is unable
to protect our children and ourselves 'living under the weight of a label'


Details | Free verse | |

Self Knowledge in the Aftermath

 
I remember now. Something was heavy, a winged
dragon that refused to fly from my chest
My eyes were secret mirrors, or a doomsday judge.
I remember morning as a flighty horse,
or like a new school year,
that first careful sentence written on a page.
 
Time became a sequel. Roads were rootless trees
racing by - Fog an x-ray – the night, annoying as a fly.
I had a misconception and her assumptions followed 
every stray dog. I quivered hollow with a frantic yellow zest.
I ate from a dish of nutmeg.
 
I woke to the sound of dying frogs, impossible spiders
trapping rainbows in their webs, the nebulous orbit
of knick knacks in the room, my reach
too small for a mother’s heart.
 
Her seeds had such an element of surprise, her 
plum lipstick, the zing of frayed nerves
she mocked death with a cup of sunshine
she kept an artist’s palette - adding
color to existence
 
Too late, the impossible demand on angels
Each bitter thought the baroque decomposing
of an empty optimism
My keyless lock - emotion


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


Details | ABC | |

you dont listen

you think I got listen to you, 
you just my kids father,
there noting between me and you,
it seem the words take you back to court is your favorite words,
get this Sheena Shenia Jackson isn't scare of no court system or even you,
its just a word that is there, 
so if you ask me you just things to make women scared im not scare of you like I use to,
I have became stronger and wiser, 
I have the Lord behind me, 
I believe in him very strong,
so if you want to bring me back to court lets do this now, 
you are just a man that God put on this earth, 
and I fear no man, no woman and no body, 
I am a King child forever,

by : Sheena Shenia Jackson 
May 23, 2013


Details | Free verse | |

THE COLORS OF LIFE

Bombs explode.
Conflicts in night
CNN reports of terror. 
Lives being scrutinized
A blood bath
The colors are everywhere.
Scores of eyes look around scared.
The code is RED.

In desperation, stands a child.
His arm is bleeding.
He is begging for his life.
A blood bath lay before him.
His eyes are scared.
He hiccups and he was left there.

His colors of life are psychedelic.
He sees the code.
He freaks out.
He rolls around intoxicated.
He forgets for a moment himself.

A little girl hallucinates.
Her father and mother ran away.
They shouted to her, “Hide any place.
Your life with us is no longer safe.”
She seeks a hole under a shed.
The terrorist left her there.

The colors of life are a child’s demon.
In darkness, you can hear them scream.
Their parents give the code.
Once given, a child world becomes cold.

Infants are shot.
She died.
Her twin did not.
The terrorist left uninformed.
The clock ticked another baby's life - gone.

The colors of life are a child’s mourn.
They lives are forsaken by those grown.
In time of trouble, they must take care of home.
The colors of life are obligatory.
The code is BLOOD.
_____________________________|
04/12/2014


Details | Rhyme | |

The Swan

The peaceful, humble beauty 
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody 
of contrasting light.

Trusting the darkness 
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.

I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.

The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.

Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace 
away from this desolate kingdom.

Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.

Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.