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Woman Abuse Poems | Abuse Poems About Woman

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

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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 I looked into your eyes,
there was a reflection of a cruel world,that 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 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.


Details | I do not know? |

Can you see mee,

Someone's mother
 A wife
 Your sister
 My aunt
 Beaten abused..
 Battered an broken
 Blaming themselves
 In the shadows
 Feeling invisible
 Some are lost
 Scars are there
 Wings sprout ..
 They fly
 Can you see me?



 This is my view of growing up around women abused an violated.
 By TG Green


Details | Epic |

The Woman with A Pair of Shoes

this is a story of a woman.
work hard for the living.
used to work in the evening.
her face is filled with glitters.
inside the cave of dragons and beasts...

she is my beloved childhood friend.
she made a letter one day we met.
to let the people know 'bout herself.
she left it my wallet one morning,
and this is what she's telling....

she was only 15 when she left our town.
try to experience a life she dreamed about.
she dreams to change her life somehow.
but trouble had came and wreck her life.
thought this man can save her from the dark.

but the wheel of fortune did not fave her.
she was thrown inside the carcel.
she became famous in a world of fools.
dancing alone with a pair of shoes.
naked and wounded, her soul is abused.

too many years passed,
our roads had crossed.
I saw her picture in front of a door.
her hair has colors,her face is old.
I went to witness what a world she holds.

so many people are watching over,
their eyes are glimmer and craving.
I look up and see what's amuse them.
A question risen up in my head.
why is she dancing with just a pair of shoes?

that night seemed long, we drove away.
we felt each moment, our soul had mate.
I've drowned in a passion I dreamed to own.
I wake up that morn, I'm all alone.
holding a letter she wrote all night long.


this is the story of a woman,
wearing just a pair of shoes.
she is not different from you.
she is a princess of her dad.
she's an angel, she must be love.




Written by: Aiyah De Torres
Entry for WOMEN ONLY Poetry Contest

** 4th Place Winner**


Details | Romanticism |

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?


Details | Free verse |

I'll Stand For You

I am standing for the woman that is too weak to stand,
A string of abuse she has suffered all her life long. 
She believes she is on her own no one to support her
So I will be her strength and support, her verbal backbone.

Let me then tell you Mr. Abuser, I will not stand aside,
While you tear down the walls of the weak and feeble.
In your face I’ll stand, with my shoulders squared fast,
Been there, stepped up, overcame, so that is my armor.

Now that’s not where I’ll leave it, more needs to be done
For the woman that is weak and feeble in self esteem.
A rescue is not the wherewithal, there has to be a goal
For her to strive unto, on the road she'll walk to being whole.

Encourage her to use her past of pain, to build
A better self for her future and make her fears
Be the rock on which she stands, to reach higher
Above the murk of abuse and self-mutilation. 



  

For Debbie's contest:  Stand


Details | Lyric |

In Bloom

Written July 29, 2013


The wind blows the rainbows down
Turns your frown upside down
Then spins it back around

The sun hides the moon
Underneath its coat in bloom
The flowers came late this June

The rain in a teardrop
Falls like dew from a leaf
When she looks at me

See that look upon her face
Used to take her to the stars
Now she's headed back from Mars

Now that Venus loves her more
Wouldn't throw her to the floor
Like before


Details | Rhyme |

Paper Thin

Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
For kicks is why I do it now.
You tell me to love but I never knew how.
Our feet hitting pavement,
We spent the day in sunny California with sun kissed skin.
I’m learning to forget and how to fade scars,
And you let me let myself down so hard.

Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
And now I just do it for smiles,
We’ll never see flower girls stumbling down aisles.
I’d lose my head just before that chance,
But if you want we can still have a first dance.
Cause I think I say things that I don’t mean,
Once upon a time you meant the world to me.

Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
But I’m trying to refrain,
To make this not all end up in vain.
Maybe I can learn to love like some people do,
And you can learn to love yourself a little too.
Or it is in all fairness to let this go?
I guess we can try but then we’ll never know. 


Details | Free verse |

DEAR DIARY

Dear Diary,
It's eleventh day of June, I'm about to celebrate my 18th birthday.
But this morning, I don't wanna go out and face the world.
I'm tired, my Dear Diary... I don't have enough strength to tell them my secrets.
It's you and I who only knew this thing, even mom's not aware of it!
I'm afraid that they may not understand, that they may be wrath or hurt me.
You knew, it's been six years now that we everyday talk about it.
And you're the only one that help me breathe when I suffocate.
Six years of unstoppable nightmare, I still recall.
It was 10:00 PM and mom has gone for a party.
Uncle Joe was left to look after the kids and me.
I woke up when I felt the wind passing through my window.
It's a cold dark night, I tried to shield myself in a blanket.
When suddenly an image of a guy entered in my room.
I closed my eyes so tight,then told myself it's a monster from the dark!
But his footsteps moved towards my bed,until a big hand grabbed my mouth.
I grasp the air then try to shout, aloud but he punched me out.
That was so hurt and caused me weak, until I surrendered to his wrist.
Though weak and helpless I felt the pain...
The deep penetration of his thorn to my flesh.
I was left broken into pieces at my very young age.
The most painful moment when someone broke my life.
A night I couldn't forget 'til today that I've grown.
And this evening, I'll be a princess in  a rose pink gown,
The crowd will sure awe while they watch me dance.
I hope I can have the courage to refuse the last hand.
The hand of my step dad who will be my last dance.
I hope I can tell the world that this guy ruined my life.
That he must pay for killing my flesh every night that mom is out!
But today, It's just you and me,  my Dear Diary.
Who knew all the secrets and the faith that I achieved.





written: May 12,2014
Entry to: Anne Currin's Dear Diary Poetry Contest




Details | Monorhyme |

A Woman Repaired

A battered woman in tattered cloths huddled beneath an oak.
Befuddled by the stranger’s gaze as he handed her his cloak.
Unwittingly, her lips curled up as her tangled hair she stroke.
Her pale blue eyes began to tear as she looked upon the bloke.

Her yesterdays were filled with pain for her spirit had been broke.
Each night she walked beneath the stars, tears flowing; she never spoke.
Without knowing, passers-by, would sneer at her cruelly and joke.
Her younger years still haunted her, the assaulting by men-folk.

Left for dead in her blood stained clothes, after hours she awoke.
Now, she cowers-down and slinks away even from her kinfolk.
And so she has lived since that distant time, cold, without a cloak 
Long ago in a frenzied daze, her engagement had been broke.

The gold upon her finger disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Her memories of love and peace to that horror had been yoked.
Wild blue eyes painted well the scene; deadly terror did evoke.
And not one smile escaped her lips since her spirit had been broke.

That battered woman in ragged clothes drawn-up beneath the oak,
Surprised that someone cared enough and would share with her his cloak.
He reached for her with his soft skinned hands; smiling, he bespoke.
Come, my dear, and walk with me, a new ring to mend…our hearts broke.	

Copyright January 12, 2014


Details | Light Poetry |

a womans cry

Dynasties of radiance splash into a womans swimming pool of excellence a womans cry transforms failures into triumph, should i feel agony & defeat for the lost bondage of our love, does a womans cry begin to symbolize the sacred feelings hiding inside the belly of a mans lies, a queen at the throne was promised, i bear children in the midst of our fight for survival do you dare assassinate my worth, my conscious is a relentless drum at the mercy of ones entertaining commands listen to a womans cry, how do i remain steady when even i question my character, is it wrong to look towards the heavens seeking pity for not being your lone constant treasure, such a life grows deeper as i sleep but find not an eye full of rest, my heart is but a mere myth who will hear a woman cry, weary i crawl for the weight of your misfortunes too great to shield, my place as a mother weakend by your arrows of discretions, spare me of your tough ridges, rid me of your chaotic demanor, heal my wounded but not broken spirit from your barbariac abuse, sooth my emotions for empty i remain a womans cry


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