Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Mother Girl Poems | Mother Poems About Girl

These Mother Girl poems are examples of Mother poems about Girl. These are the best examples of Mother Girl poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Free verse | |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Dream

It came in a dream

my face all blue

she saw my death

somehow she new

stay home this night 

she begged of me

but a young girl wants to be free

the knife plunged in deep

I recalled her words and began to weep

stay home this night she begged of me

but a young girl wants to be free

the rope around me

I did not struggle

for I knew my fate

should have listened to my mother

but now it's much too late

I close my eyes and wait to die

and finally fall asleep

I wake to hear the end of her prayer

"I pray the Lord your soul to keep"

I open my eyes

I am not dead

Mom  has a wash cloth on my head

You have a fever

It's pretty high

try to sleep she says with a sigh


Details | Rhyme | |

Alter-Ego

The little girl who begs for mercy is away,
her angry alter-ego took her place.
The little girl might possibly come back someday,
But now her eyes gleam red on her fair face.

All the wicked things she said and did,
It was not her but that evil thing.
Maybe the little girl just hid,
Afraid of all the alter-ego may bring.

She is evil, can't you understand?
The sadness, the anger and hatred she gives,
Is it possible to withstand?
But maybe inside that evil thing, the little girl who begs for mercy lives.


Details | Elegy | |

sweet baby girl

Sweeter than a flower special as could be
A little girl softly asleep
Kneeling in prayer singing a tune
Beautiful young one baby girl
See her face glowing
Know that she's going to a better place
Surrounded by angels
Near the pearly gates
Safely in the sacred arms
Looking up at Jesus face
Sweeter than a flower
Special as could be
A little girl softly asleep
Close your eyes right now
See her going
To a better place
Your little baby girl


Details | I do not know? | |

Your baby girl

teddy bears, baby dolls ,butterfly kisses i miss it all 
first word first bike first guy i ever liked
you were there through it all you helped me up after every fall 
you were the only woman i could love to hate  
no one else can ever take your place...
you always tried to keep us tight, you told me falling for the wrong guy would hurt 
 I'll never admit it but you were right.....
I've done some wrong broke your trust and lied you never let it show but i know u were 
crushed inside.....
I know i'm your baby girl but i'm not a baby any more you've got to let me live my 
life......
I've got to learn from my mistakes live for my happiness but being your baby girl is 
something we both will always miss......


Details | Lyric | |

Birthday warning!

A cold autumn morning, 
new rains have arrived 
today not so ordinary 
A little girls birthday goes by 

she had an accident 
she awoke in her bed wet 
today she is six, a present she did 
not expect 

A day without the jug cord 
would be her birthday wish 

Her hope is soon faded, 
for there her mother stood, 
A birthday beating just begun- 
her mothers' way 
of a little fun 

"you dirty little b!#@h"! 
I'm sick of washing your sheets 
this will fix you...and fix you good 
till you're black and blue 
...or till I'll make you bleed"! 

Happy Birthday to me... 
through aches and tears 
I am happy 
I survived to date six years 

alone in her closet 
she'd make this her car 
travel to far away happy lands 
go shopping for a star 

once she bet the jug cord 
she collected up the sheets 
took her mums' old coal shovel 
buried them under the house 
darkest corner beneath, 

her father gave her sixpence 
every time she was dry, 
or if she wet, he'd make her wetter 
he'd put her in a cold bath 

the little girl would trick him, 
moving the sheets about 
her mother would come in the room 
catch the little girl out 

the little girl did such things 
out of fear she lied 
the little girl was in a place 
she was trying to survive 

she adapted to her father 
she adapted to her mother 

though difficult it was 
it affected everything 
looking back the way she was 

she changed her life completely 
eradicated the fear 
her life gets better and better 
year after year 

her mum and dad to this day 
the little girl forgave 
she understands the way they were 
a woman she has grown 
forgiving to her grave 

she struggles on her birthday 
preferring to enjoy 
her spirit accepts what happened 
on that day the present 
she avoids 


Details | I do not know? | |

The Two

It was the summer of 1938 when the whisper of fate broke through the airless 
night,
And two curious children got to their feet the little girl knew something was not 
right.
Little Jack the baby, stood in the middle of the room, the dirt floor cool on his bare 
feet,
his sister did not stand, but walked over to the screen door unmindful of the 
Texas heat.

Who told the girl what happened? Could it be that angles spoke softly in her 
small ear?
She looked at her little brother Jack, and told him what she knew, in her voice 
was no fear.
“It’s daddy you know, he’s not coming back Jackie” she said in a quietly hushed 
tone.
Little Jack was so young, and he didn’t understand.  But daddy, he never did 
come home.

Their mother you see neither one can truly recall, maybe for them she never 
really was,
She walked through their lives on a stage of drama never doing the things a 
mother does.
But they remember the rainy day in a town that is now gone, when daddy was laid 
to rest,
Their mother you see showed up late, in a new car and wearing her brand new 
Sunday best.

The Two though they went on, as children do.  The little girl mothering her little 
brother Jack.
So small and alone, they looked for food in the trash the little girl with her brother 
on her back.
Mother was there somewhere, laughing in the dark secrecy, loving what men 
could provide.
The children to her became baggage, inconvenient, a hindrance that she just 
could not abide.

Some in the town began to take pity, watching the rag dolls as they walked 
through the street,
When evening fell the town went home, so did the Two in their frayed clothes and 
bare little feet.
But time can bring sweet escape, and that came to the Two through the blessing 
of a new life,
It was their fate not to grow up together, one knowing peace the other life colored 
with strife.

But the Two would meet through out the years for their destiny is intertwined in 
blood and history,
Time marched on and as they now age they share in each others lives, a lasting 
bond and mystery.
She can no longer carry Jack on her back, but she has always carried him in her 
heart and mind,
And to Jack, his sister has always been more than words can explain, more than 
most will ever find.


Details | I do not know? | |

All she could say.

	I awoke to her screaming in the early morning grey. He knew he 
needed to leave
had to go away. The tears were failing he could no longer hide. So much 
sadness built
deep inside. Young tired unknowing eyes awaken by her mothers scream. He 
found her 
looking, his heart breaking, tears began to stream. The little girl ran past her 
mother, 
and ran to him in the early morning grey. The little girl looked up to him. Dad, was 
the only
word she could say...

His heart began to pound, the little girls tears falling to the ground. They hugged 
and both 
cried together in the early morning grey. The mother ripped her away from him, 
screaming
go away. Placing the little girl inside the house. The little girl ran to the window, 
stared and 
listioned as quiet as a mouse...

Through the window she heard no sound, her mother pushed him, stumbling he 
fell to the ground.
As he rose beginning to stand, he noticed the gun she had in her right hand. He 
wanted to move had began to step away, One bullet fired in the early morning 
grey.

Then I heard the woman scream, what have I done? Looking at him and then at 
the gun. I picked myself off the floor. I stepped forward and opened my front door. 
I found the little girl by his side in the early morning grey.As he began to die, dad 
was the only word she could say.


Details | Ballad | |

The Definition Of A Real Woman

(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.

(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.

(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.

(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.

(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.



Details | Rhyme | |

Thank you

Thank you – Zamreen Zarook

Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.

Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.

People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.

Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.


Details | Free verse | |

Princesses

Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!


Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Details | Lyric | |

Solipsist

Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
 
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 




Details | Rhyme | |

THE SEVEN DIVISIONS OF WOMANHOOD

To Shakespeare I give all due respect,
But the world must be a huge theater I suspect.
Woman’s the major player if not the star,
For she influences all with love from afar.
The main acts of her drama as one envisions,
Occur for my audience in seven divisions. 

First the helpless infant in her nurse’s arm,
Fresh from God’s hands smiling and warm.
Yet guiltless and untouched by worldly strife,
She is but a stranger to sin in this dawn of life.
In her pink crib she looks cute and pure,
With a smile on her lips so modestly demure.

Next as a tender young girl of school age,
With pigtails and grace she enters the stage.
An innocent young girl loving dolls and toys,
She has no taste for bruises, math or boys.
Her voice is like music whenever she speaks,
Explaining with emotion the desire she seeks.

In the sweet summer age she becomes a blossom,
And weathers the waves in the role of stardom.
Now she’s a young lady with a pure, creative mind,
Nursing dreams of a life moral and refined.
When put into the orbit of heart-consuming men,
Overcoming dying hope, her world she has to win.

As a wife she makes her home a true nirvana,
 Winning from the man she loves her merited honor.
 She is in hard times his source of consolation,
And in times of pleasure his joy and elation.
As a lover and a mate she continues to perform,
Keeping house and home through every storm.

Now for the most blessed age of female life,
She assumes the role of mother as well as wife.
Like God's miracle, the first is released with a hurl,
Then with tears and a scream from womb to world.
Before long baby laughs aloud and pleads for caress,
And mother love with playful smile grants the request.

Next the vestiges of youth appear a distant dream,
And spring's lovely buds now attest to her final esteem,
As she enters her mournful stage of the widow's woe,
Her glance upon her children falls as her eyes overflow.
She has lost all her young heart once fondly enjoyed,
And in the business of change of life she's fully employed.     

 With the final division, youth is now a faded flower,
 And she can bask in the coolness of the evening hour.
 As she enjoys the reflection of her progeny having fun,
 She is reminded that maternal pleasures are not yet done.
 She continues to impart knowledge necessary to sustain,
 As she guides their hopes to reach for the heavenly domain.



Details | Couplet | |

Dear Rapunzel

It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.

It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.

It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.

Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.

Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.

They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.

Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.

Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

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 | Imagism | |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex


Details | Rhyme | |

The Poor Little Black Girl

She sits on a street corner with a teardrop in her eye
Wishing she were in the cars of the people driving by
Her mother left with some john about two months ago
The man with the eviction notice didn’t care she had no place else to go

She carries in her small backpack everything she owns
The coming of the winter colds is in the winds that have blown
The bed she made on a City Park bench can comfort her no more
Her absences in the public school do not entice anyone to go looking for …

… the poor little black girl that nobody cares about

She has potential deep inside of her buried beneath the hunger pains
But nobody in this busy world recognizes what there is to gain
She is doing everything she possibly can to stop from turning tricks
But the only thing her mother taught her was how to hide the bruises from her kicks

The Styrofoam cup she holds out to strangers hasn’t collected any coin
People just leave her looks of disgust as if she is at fault for being forlorn
Shadows cast by the high-rise buildings grow longer with the setting sun
As commuters begin their journeys home she stands up in front of everyone … 

… and the poor little black girl lets out a booming shout

“I don’t do this because I want to; being abandoned was not my choice;
I tried quietly to ask for help – but today I will use my voice
I turned thirteen years old today – the anniversary of another girl’s mistake
Is it too much to ask for, just once, a piece of cake?”

 “You can pretend that I don’t exist; you can pretend that you’re better than me;
You can long for that future day when I am no longer here for you to see;
You can hate me and fear me and just turn your head the other way;
But you will see me again, sitting by our Father to hear your excuses come judgment day”

Businessmen and businesswomen stopped for just a minute
They looked around at one another not sure of the message or how to spin it
Then continued towards their taxis, subways, ferries and their cars
She stood alone after the sun went down beneath the twinkling stars …

It is up to you, now, to determine how this story turns out


Details | Narrative | |

Female Companion

                                                     She is so typical
                                                           So critical
                                                   For most part difficult

                                   I never really could grasp her in such way
                                       She just wants me to some how stay
                               She comes to my man cave and makes me obey

                                          Shy she was and now I am scared
                                              In such way I almost cared
                              She thinks she can do everything for me I swear

                         She makes me guess everyday but I keep on believing
     Because it is fun to give her a kiss, while she does not know when she is sleeping
                She stresses out but I will tell her my love for her keeps deepening

                So for the most part I just keep her close to make her smile and me
                                When I do things I do it for her it is always a key
            Call me romantic or call me stupefied, but it makes her so, so, sooo, happy


Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.


Details | Blank verse | |

Mother of Emptyness

Unfamiliar grounds  scare my emotions,

Hand which holds me safe no longer exist,

Each glance behind reveal vacant spaces

where are you Mom?


The emptiness I feel around me  is vast,

Familiar warmth no longer extents to wipe tears,

Very routine footsteps never walks alongside,

Where are you Mom?


Bond that linked was brutally cutoff,

Before I learned to sense essence of life,

The very dept jolt me to be bold for age,

Where are you Mom?


Each gray hair reminds me of time left,

Pangs of pain quiver me out of my gloom,

Arouse to stand up straight to face time,

Where are you Mom?


The very Mom within me shudder,

With the same pain I once poured,

Into thy very bosom  with  vengeance,

Where are you Mom?


Are you never going to  hold me close?

Why heartless to watch the  river of tears?

Mind  skilled to paint a shadow of you,

Where are you Mom?


Details | Rhyme | |

BELOVED BLESSING of MIRACLE

pretty amazing to behold,
once of a llfetime story never before been told.
behind all the biggest miracle:
there is a woman in every age,
blessed above all the rest of the mother's,
from the beginning,
ever since time began,
you journeyed and fought a good race,
besides everything that we do,
you are a mother, wife, sister, aunt, and grandma,
because of you,
I am not lost.
you found me on low,
you stood by me in every hurt that I cost.
mother of all heritage,
you beloved are a blessing of all miracles.


Details | Sonnet | |

Letters

Letters

You left me a baby barely out of my crib;
Weakened without you, now stronger at last;
Black hole in mum’s chest, Adam took his rib;
It’s too late now, the iron has rust;
And to you Mother, my greatest woman on Earth;
In youth and all ambition you put your plans to yield;
I am a man now, still and always your son from birth;
I will always remember my promise to build;
To my love, my lily, my beauty, I see you;
Couple with me, let the cycle start again;
Through our youth and middle age I will love you;
So in death we shall feel no pain;
My whole life in a note but more;
With the three souls that made my core.

 




 


Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Stop!

Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Listen!

Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Think!

Think of how you treat,

grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Act!

Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,

grand-fathers,
colleagues,
boyfriends,
husbands,
nephews,
brothers,
partners,
fathers,
uncles,

men,

all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!


Details | Senryu | |

The Kids of Divorce

Mom and Dad divorce; the kids are damaged for life; but some are relieved.


Details | I do not know? | |

One Billion Rising

Today we rise.

No more hiding in the shadows,

of culture,
creed,
tradition.

No more silent complicity,

defensive arguments,
sickening pretences,
shabby excuses,

for the actions of men,

brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.

Today, we rise,

as one.

Today the change starts,

with me,
within me.

Today we rise.


Details | Quatrain | |

The Birth Of A Girl The Birth Of A Boy

In a forest a girl was born   
A girl born oh so poor
This girl then caused this world now torn
Her birth opens a sore

But we do not now this girl mourn
She was left some money
A thrifty woman not to scorn
Then a taste of honey

She met a man she was forlorn
Bore a son Alois
Unwed and aging, no ring worn
No ring, so still a Miss.

Her bastard son none could be warned
When his mother did wed
He gave a name the world did scorn
A name that all wished dead

If his mother knew what was born
Hitler the name we know
I wonder would she have  been torn?
To give him birth, or no.

© 09/01/2013 ~GG~

Contest Entry.


Details | Narrative | |

L O M L Always

The thought of her smiling gave me faith
From when we were little we bathe
My mother and her mother is best friends
They both took care of us and gifts they send
We pulled each others hair
And she was always quick to dare
When I smiled at her she knew it was no good
She learned to pull me up and she understood
I just wanted her attention and that she gave
She knew it in her heart love was my slave
From when we were a child with full of energy I had my way
She was the one who was my guide and she did not push me away
When I saw her cry one day and her eyes was so sad
I gave her a flower and I smiled at her and made her glad
When some one special leaves her heart
I sat by her and never wanted to depart
She is the love of my life always
She is the one who gave me my hope through out my days
So I gave her my heart and love from within
And I did not make it thin
I stood by her side since I was a child
I gave her my support when we were wild
She knew who I was and I let her go the distance
I did not hate her or give her resistance
My mother and her mother are great friends and their virtue will never end
Because of their love they both trusted us to live our ways to transcend
So my childhood friend was my best friend, and now my wife
She new it from the start that we part of each others life


Details | I do not know? | |

The Shadow Man (aka The Story of Freddy Krueger)

*THIS IS NOT MY STORY, BUT IT IS A STORY I THINK EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW!

There was a man working at our school. No one knew he was. The teachers kept a close eye 
on him while he worked outside around the school property. 

Two weeks into the school year, an 8-year-old girl came up to the man and said, "What is 
your name sir?"

The man smiled at the little girl and said, "Freddy."

"Would you like to play hide and seek with us", the girl asked.

Freddy bowed his head and covered his eyes, "Thirty...twenty-nine..."

The little girl's face light up with excitement, and she went and got her friends, and they hid 
around the school.

"...Three...two...one...ready or not. Here I come"

Freddy looked around the school saying, "One...two...Freddy's comin for you..." Freddy was 
unsuccessful in finding the children. So, he went down to the cellar where he lived and saw a 
little girl hiding under the table. "There ya are", said Freddy. The girl sprung up from the 
table with excitement. "That was fun", the girl said. "Do you know any other games we could 
play?" Freddy thought for a second, "Well, if you can keep a secret, I'll take you to a place 
that no one else knows of." The girl vowed to keep it a secret.

Hours passed, and the little girl returned home from school. She ran to her parents, 
crying. "What's wrong?" her mother asked. "There's this man at school. He took me to his 
cave, and did something terrible." The mother and fathers faces burned with anger. "What 
did he do to you?" the father demanded. The girl turned around, lifted up her shirt, and there 
were four giant cuts, like from a bear claw, going across her back.

Hours passed, and a group of parents got together to confront Freddy. Freddy saw them 
coming, and ran to an old abandoned mill. Freddy ran inside, with the parents running after 
him with bats and knives. He locked the door, and the parents filled bottles with gasoline, 
light them on fire, and threw them in the window. Freddy was burned to death, and the 
parents kept that terrible act their secret.