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Best Anti Bullying Poems

Below are the all-time best Anti Bullying poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of anti bullying poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Anti-Bullying Remedy by Manassian, Eileen
Anti-bullying week special by Kamil, Sophiya
anti bullying zone by Duffy, Alex
ANti Bullying stop the violence by long, cory

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The Best Anti Bullying Poems

Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Pirate Bay

```Pirate Bay the Haiku``` 

pirates fierce and mean 
drowning fish, sea to sea 
parrots on their butt 


```Polly Wants A Cracker``` 

bloodthirst & brutal 
Quartermaster Gone Wild 
dirty wings on deck 


```Sea World Adventure``` 
ship crew goes on strike 
sailing the Caribbean 
wooden leg splashing 


~*~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

More great poems below...


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

An Angel watches over me

My pen fell from my hand- ink splattered like blood Feeling suffocated - the last words had been written Was this the end, had the poet died? Ready to leave - never to look back - this was goodbye Suddenly, a flash of light breathed me back into life with a beautiful gesture reincarnating my soul Celestial being glowing an ethereal spiritual light spoke heavenly radiant words of virtuous delight The ink began to flow - waterfalls flowed fluently Now I believe in saintly Angels - I know they watch over me 9 December 2015

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Prophet of DOOM

Fabricated whispers seduced by falsehood
have the grapevine shivering in notoriety
Pernicious vile glutinous serpent revels
in poisoning the innocent children of Eve

The prophet of doom gossips about scandal
fictitious storytelling with inaccurate slander
deception, deceit, dishonesty, disinformation
leaving behind a trail of falsification myth
Venomous words spoken form into miasma
toxic breath pollutes mutating malignancy

Children of Adam, were born to be together
but, the Devil, conceived demonic partition
Divide and conquer, Apartheid are his work
sadly, some still give devotion to his creed

Silent One
20 January 2016
Remember God is always watching and knows the truth
Just because somebody says something - does not mean it is true

Triple Filter Test
In ancient Greece, Socrates (the famous philosopher) was visited by an acquaintance of his. Eager to share some juicy gossip, the man asked if Socrates would like to know the story he’d just heard about a friend of theirs. Socrates replied that before the man spoke, he needed to pass the “Triple-Filter” test.

The first filter, he explained, is Truth. “Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to say is true?” The man shook his head. “No, I actually just heard about it, and …”

Socrates cut him off. “You don’t know for certain that it is true, then. Is what you want to say something good or kind?” Again, the man shook his head. “No! Actually, just the opposite. You see …”

Socrates lifted his hand to stop the man speaking. “So you are not certain that what you want to say is true, and it isn’t good or kind. One filter still remains, though, so you may yet still tell me. That is Usefulness or Necessity. Is this information useful or necessary to me?”  A little defeated, the man replied, “No, not really.”

“Well, then,” Socrates said, turning on his heel. “If what you want to say is neither true, nor good or kind, nor useful or necessary, please don’t say anything at all.”


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Beatitude Number Three

Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek.”
It’s better - turn the other cheek
than let yourself lose self-control.
Vengeance will rob you of your soul.

A humble person is not weak.
Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek.”
When we use self-discipline,
we show God’s power from within!

God implied to stand for others -
not ourselves, but for our brothers.
Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek.”
Be thoughtful and with kindness speak!

The world is filled too much with pride.
Submit to God; be on His side!
If peace on earth is what you seek,
Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek.”

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”  Matthew 5:5

Written Jan. 15, 2016  for the contest of Olive Eloisa Guillermo

*I don't know why this scripture did not come to me sooner; above all else I value kindness and I think this is the scripture I most fondly recall from my childhood days. Also I realized as I looked up the scripture, its number is 5:5. OH MY, my favorite number times two!!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

To Forgive Or Not To Forgive

To forgive or not to forgive, that is the question.
When you are offended, whether real or imagined
by a loved one, a friend, or by someone esteemed,
do you confront the other, or resolve to be patient?

If by some stroke of luck, the offender apologized
but turns around, talking glib gobbledygook,
do you keep silent and still, looking cool as ice,
or do you tell it to his face, that he’s more than a crook?

At such time as this, or any time for that matter,
it is best to forgive whether he asks for it or not.
Do not poison your heart with cyanide blather;
bitterness can bother like a bat’s up your butt!

Forgiveness frees the offended from the devil’s deceit;
and makes you smile at the debtor, as his debt, you forfeit.



A modern sonnet. 
06 October 2015
Poem of the Week - October 11 to 17, 2015

Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

bite me contest


I write-
mellifluous    sweet murmuring poems-
gossamer whispering words

a labyrinth     twisting     and turning

serendipity writes
and woebegone sadramblingswithtears
and all I want to do is share
my feelings

sweet murmuring poems-gossamer

but here come the don'tdoitgang 
a labyrinth    twisting    and turning
with their opinions stabbing
their rigmarole
wanting to make my safe harbour       a hoosegow

oh the words and wordsdribbling they let fly
to our souls and    
my mellifluous
sweet
          murmuring
                           poems whispering

the discontentannoyingwordgang
a labyrinth
twisting
and turning
come with their constanttellingus   what to do
           smellfungas comments

and I
am guilty   of everything        it all
I enter my poems
written from the depths of my soul
in whatyoucallmeaningless         contests
andIwinsometimes
so bite me

I leave comments lovelyandawesome
with words like beautiful       and wonderful
so back off          leavemealone    bite me

I like to post   
        pictures with poems
                everheardoffreeimages
  

I dwell behind a mighty high wall        where

I write-
mellifluous    sweet murmuring poems-
gossamer whispering words

a labyrinth   twisting     and turning

serendipity writes
and woebegone sadramblingswithtears
and all I want to do is share
my feelings


________________________
May 31, 2015


Free Verse


For the contest, Bite Me, sponsor, John Lawless

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Being Bullied

Sometimes we all say things we don’t mean
Private thoughts to be kept inside that should never be seen
Then others join to be part of the scene
They use nasty words that are meant to demean

Scared to speak for fear of ridicule
How can others be so cruel
They join in because they think its fun
Not knowing the harm they do to anyone

Social media can be fun
But to those being bullied the damage is done
‘Do it, do it, just go away’
These are the words the bullies may say

Until one day the victim they may crack
Those poisoned words can’t be taken back
Till one day they can take no more
And are found lifeless on the bedroom floor

And then those who mock and those who scorn
Turn up at the funeral of those who they now mourn
So think before another word you say
Because the bullied may not be able to face another day

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Songs of power something inside so strong

The more you torment me - more powerful I become
Words do not afflict me - they are only child's play
Despotic tyranny will never mute my polyglottic tongue
Cowards who persecute and suppress will never comprehend
the powerful strength deep inside - eternally unbreakable
Pride cannot be destroyed when one has no ego
You oppress with judgemental eyes - yet hide behind the truth
Your existence has become a masquerade of fabricated fiction
Sitting on your prevaricator's chair speaking no words of wisdom
You can never brainwash those who are wise to your ways
Fire your bullets - I am bullet proof
Send your tanks and war planes - Freedom fighters never quit
Slit my throat and take away my breath - my spirit will live on!
You can kill a man, but you can never destroy his legend

The Silent One
9 November 2015

Dedicated to all those who face oppression...




Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Poetrysoup's Jan

Poetrysoup's Jan is quite a lass
Whose poetry is always first class
She writes ditties with ease
About mountains and fleas
Nothing phases her pens brilliance

Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Bullying 101

Step 1: 
Inhale an envious mask upon your castrated 
skull, 
and prompt this necessary illusion to commence.
Bathe yourself in ego-filled waters till you feel superior
to the gavel, and exit without caution from this perfect 
prison called home. 
The audience of youthful flattery awaits you, and those 
who you hunt, 
Anticipate your roar, and contemplate a permanent 
departure. 

Step 2: 
Masquerade around the elementary wheels of 
transportation, and make sure your crown has no opposition.
Be seated in the rear levels of mischief, and target those
who sit angelically, in frontal silence. 
Remember to grin until your devilish smile has a 
pathological glow, 
And act without tears, your greatest show without
showing. 

Step 3: 
Be ignorant to punctual chimes that sing, and lean on 
absent temptation for comfort. 
Show patience for the perfectly weak; allow them their 
steps upon the wax floors, 
Give them their fairy tale of safety. 
For they are dreamers, and you are their scheduled 
nightmare. 

Step 4: 
Enter classrooms initially through the minds of prey. 
Let them introduce the beast without forethought, 
Observe their careful whispers among the intellectual
flock, 
And standby till their guard sleeps. 

Lastly, steal the eyes of misery from your contemporaries
as you walk in, and sit among the walls of miseducation. 
For knowledge is not the vocation you seek. 
Only the beauty of suffering can compensate your lust. 
Step 5:
Begin by insulting the eager minds that roam 
brilliantly in the front row. 
Shout high praises from hell, belittle their flawless 
answers, 
And bear no breaks of mercy until tears fall. 

Now shift your heinous gears toward the everlasting 
prom queen, your unrequited distraction. 
She does not lean towards you, therefore you must 
harm her pedestal as well. 
Do not hesitate to disarm this glow that will never 
infiltrate your surroundings. 

Step 6:
Confirm that your motions are approved, by the 
council of expulsion, 
And give them infamous leeway to imitate in your
rare absence. 

Step 7: 
Reminisce joyfully over sin that will never turn pure, 
as you return home. 
Remove the wool from your eyes, and follow sorrow 
till it wants no hint of you any longer, 
A similar thought entertained by parents you forever 
know.  

Lastly, if you urge beyond repair, and accept that the 
sheep you threaten everyday will never turn, 
Despite your purpose, 
Then feel free to act as those that previously harmed, 
And contemplate a permanent departure. 
May god bless these faithful carriers of misery. 

Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

We All Have Words

We all have voices
They are strong and loud
We can use them to start 
Landslides and earthquakes
We can also calm the storm
Take that roar and turn it into 
A gentle hum
We all have words
And it's time that we use them
But before we can do that
We must change the way we speak
We must change the way we look at things
Because the words we use now are not correct
The words we use now are full of hate
The words we use weren't acceptable
Years ago so why are they now?
Why is acceptable to be using slurs against me?
Why is it acceptable to call me something
That your mother would consider vulgar?
When you speak
Can you still taste the soap
That she would wash your mouth out with?
Does it burn your tongue each time 
The words escape your lips?
Or do you feel nothing at all?
Have your dirty words
Consumed you enough 
That no matter how much soap is used
They will never be clean?
Have they stained your vocal chords
So much to a point 
That you can only speak 
In profanities and racial slurs?
Because that's all I can hear
They slap me in the face
Each time you speak
I remember what you said
To that disabled black man crossing the street
I remember what you said
To the lesbian couple
When they kissed each other in front of us
I remember what you said to the single Latino woman
Caring for her 5 children
I remember what you said when I told you I wasn't straight
I remember everything you said
And I always say
We all have words
And it's time that we use them
But only if we can calm the storm
And turn the endless hate
Into unconditional love


Copyright © Brittany Larson | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Zolar the Inet God

(after Edgar Allan Poe's "The Angel of the Odd")

It was a tidy day and I sat, replete, under vellux blankets.
Sadly, my tea was weak, the bottle of cinnamon whiskey
tantalizingly low, and my feet swelling above my anklets.
So I was snippy one might say, zippy, flipping with zee...

from one screen to the next, oops, forgot! Poor Usain Bolt!
Yes, I took it out upon him. Dressed him first in bouncy hearts
cruel, I admit, and then purposefully fried him, let him float,
banged him, tripped him, let the sloth dine, and let out a fart.

Crude, I admit. Let's blame it on the tea, shall we? "I say not."
I sat up. Who had spoken to little old me, an old lady too weak
for any great villian with a booming voice. I blew out my snot,
found my glasses and good grief! The speaker made of teak.

Pseudo teak, my stereo a bit old. But leaning against the wall
fruity-kins wearing leotards when he should not, the belly
like a spiked watermelon. I admit I considered a sip at neck gall
but got turned off by papaya thighs, arms turned banana jelly.

Who are you, I squeaked, smushing low to hide like a flea.
"Zolar, the Inet God. Say, I wonder, are you  a high roller?"
No, no, said I. No bingo, no slots, no high stake poker, just see...
"See? I see far too well. You let my buddy Usain go polar."

Tee hee. Just, um, fun and games. How about a nice slushy?
Yes, I admit it. With such as he, I couldn't help but imagine
giving a blender whirr, a smash and splash, sort of plushy.
With glee whee, off went vellux and I set to the kitchen.

The rum was old and watery, the vodka scummy at collar
and all went crash. Imagine the horror if you will, foot rot
 in my fine spirits? My hoover sucked it without bother
and when I examined residue, found crumbs, hairs and a dot

of mushy raisins. So I googled on my phone  with askance
how purify spirits? Zolar suggested kindly, "Try a colander."
A genius of the mash, a nonpariel of the objective chance.
My mind turned to such grater things I made my first blunder.

Who'd believe a fresh market reject could move with alacrity
I swung a hammer, missed his head, slipped on the slick floor.
The recoil hit my head, and I bled red vintage, singing a ditty,
Oh me, oh my. I'm gonna cry, while Zolar went out the door.

Not leaving my just desserts to chance, I slipped and slithered
rubbed my foot rot, and hopped after him, butcher knife in hand.
A beep from my iPhone and away he dodged, while I dithered
leading me, up, up and out to where it rained to beat the band.

It hit me then, just get close enough to hug Zolar, then push
he must have read my mind because he darted and I flew
head over heels, but thankfully over a branch like a lush
who did okay on the acrobatic bars, hair tangling in dew

covered maple leaves and my dismount worthy of a ten.
I mucked toward my door,  my bare feet covered with mud
I opened the door, except it was locked, no window open.
I checked my pockets, found a lighter, snapped, a dud.

No phone, can you imagine? Even Usain Bolt wouldn't recover
such blasphemy as rain, muck, and maniac fruit without zen.
I now had an axe to grind and a green house to uncover.
My thirst now absurd, my mind stuck on might have been

I raged, thrashed through cabinets, seeking a bottle once stored
and found it. Amen. I uncapped it, took a deep swallow
Hot. Hot, hot! Immediately I upchucked, help me I implored
to the God of the Inet, Oh Zolar, call 911, don't let me wallow

It's cold, wet, dark and mucky, and here I'm all upchucky
I pounded on doors, they'd open, snap a flash then close
oh, woe, woe. I clutched my head, my throat, I'm ever so unlucky
to wish to slip into slushy and end up posted before repose.

A siren in the night grew and grew, then flashed beside me
a voice said, "Ma'am? Can you hold it right there, put your hands
overhead?" Sure, but bladder being bad I couldn't stop my wee wee
from dribbling down my leg, then my feet slipped unplanned.

That's how the news pictured me, along with neighborhood
postings, feet all asply, a phew of urine and of whiskey,
my hair filled with leaves, eyes black and blue, and would
you believe it? My hand rests on watermelon, me unable to flee.

I never go near the iNet, never search out or  bash Usain Bolt.
The night of Zolar in mind, I even gave up cinnamon whiskey.
Because a fruit in hand is better than an axe to grind or a volt
from lightning, with tush grounded and no vellux to cover me.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

I Have Hidden Super Powers

I don't wear a cape around
My neck, breaking the speed of sound
Or capture bad guys in a web
My powers have never fled
From my heart that's where they stay
Secretly until the day
I see injustice come along
Others are treated so wrong
My super powers become stronger
When I can't take it any longer
Hearing stories of bullying
My special skills kick right in
Set loose, no holding them back
My love alert goes on attack
Not stopping for anything
It won't ease up until I bring
All this hatred to a low
I give one huge final blow
Across the land until there is
No more hate or prejudice
Until then, I'm on alert
Making sure there is no hurt
I will be here till the end
All my powers I will send
Into the hearts of those so weak
Mild mannered, shy and meek
That get pushed around each day
I'll make sure it goes away
This promise will be kept for sure
Any kind of hatred I abhor

Copyright © robin davis | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

The Fat Girl

I may be fat but I can cook soul food to put you in a good mood I don't mean to be rude but you look like a string bean
You only know how to make sandwiches I can make steaks to take your breath away
you say I look like a steak but you can't even make a cake you need to drink more shakes
I need to eat more salads but at least I have a big wallet


I may be fat but I can dance your eyes are  glued to my thighs are you hypnotize yet
Do you want to take a chance and try to beat me in dancing you can't defeat me 
I can shake my hips and do flips I can drop it like its hot you can only pop that's not much 
Oh, now you want to challenge me but you can't balance on the dance floor 
The crowd wants to see me more you were just a bore 

I may be fat but I'm the one who looks pretty in this skirt you look silly like Big Bert
You say I don't look good in a bikini because I'm not tiny but at least I'm not  bony like you
You say I look like a buffalo but at least I don't have a problem finding a fellow
I don't mean to be a pest but you started this mess why don't you give it a rest
I'm fat but I'm telling you I'm the best you don't need to guess 

I may be fat but I'm good at writing poetry
You say that  you're good too but people are going to say boo to you
You say that isn't true and I need to pray because I won't win but I know I can 
You say that people wouldn't pay cash to see me but they will chase me I have a nice ass
you say your poetry  will get publish but that's only a wish I will you forgot to take your pills


Men want to be with me because I have meat on me you only have bones 
You say that I don't look like a model but men want to play with me and pay me to date 
I may be fat but I found a man who likes me like that but your man said you act like a brat
I'm getting married tomorrow don't feel sorrow 
You can laugh but at least I'm glad that I'm not sad or bad and I'm not a brat so take that

Copyright © Ileane Ogilvie | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Blacklisted

The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-

"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''

Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,  
especially with unbounding determination.

Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred, 
through no fault of your own. 

When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!

Common sense says, 
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!" 

Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy, 
back there 
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!

Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....

The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.

Furthermore,
Suddenly, 
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night, 
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.

Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite 
appearing with fake praise.

Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.

Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.

Envy
burns bold, boils, 
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.

Adding to your arsenal.

Stumble not 
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits... 
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their 
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens 
which only bolster your begotten flame.

Remain steadfast, undaunted

                           TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________           TO            ________________________
                            MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!

*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL    



~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet, 
Shady Records~

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Crossed Me At The Borderline, Just In Time

-------------------------------------- ~*note: done in fun and aimed at no one~  



try and seed my name you'll concede to shame
no use in calling names to lose the game

yir' ill will is just plain disastrous 
asinine avatars deserve an asterisk

as for being fact-less, your slaps don't diss
every lick you spit simply tends to miss

harmless words that curse, rehearsed childishness
gets your face erased and they'll say who's next

as defilement arrives inside your text
that's when shame wheels you back, right to the nest.


~10 syllables in each of 10 rhyming lines~

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

FORGIVENESS 202: Refusing to Cut the Corner of an Enemy's Coat

(Giving voice to those who suffered and believe in poetic justice)
I refuse to cut the corner of your coat, though many times you tried to squeeze my throat. You got perverse pleasure to see my page blank, thought I have overdrawn the polyglot’s bank. I saw your glee, you thought I went to flee, you did not understand; my spirit was in command. Without ascendancy you appointed yourself as judge, still I chose not to bear a grudge. Like David, my sins are uncovered, like him I never devoured Nathan; he was not sent by Satan. He was sent by Him, against Whom all have sinned. Yet you aimed to shame and then denied, thought you caught me by surprise and caused my demise. You have conveniently overlooked my word, I have confessed and made my peace with the Lord. Who sent you? You are not a messenger of peace, Your truth doesn’t set free but spreads strife and disease. You are not a prophet; are you the false king’s puppet? I saw Fate throw the dice, so now you are uncovered before my eyes; but like David, I too will kill hatred with love, he was content to cut the corner of Saul’s robe. An eye for an eye? It won’t make me smile to see you die, I will not honor vengeful games with my name. Now, I release myself from all the hurt you’ve caused and claim God’s gift; He who knows me more than most, denies you satisfaction to silence my thoughts. I am forgiven. Through His grace I forgive you seventy times seven, on your downfall you won’t see me gloat; I refuse to even cut the corner of your coat. From: 1 Samuel 24; 2 Samuel 12:1-13 and Matthew 5: 21-22 Inspired by Olive Eloisa's Theme: Not for contest

Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez | Year Posted 2016


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

I look back and smile

I remember how I would cry myself to sleep
Night after night then I would wake the next morning 
Dreading the moment I stepped into the 
School's doors where you would all be waiting.
You'd smile and pretend like we were the best of friends 
Till my parents left the car park then the words
Would fall from your mouths slashing and cutting,Burning into
my brain. You would all stand around me mocking me,jeering.
 When you saw your words didn't effect me,you moved on to
The physical. I remember how your hands would wrap 
 around my throat,preventing me from breathing. You'd laugh at
My struggle to breathe. I remember how they would hold
 Me down so I couldn't run while you would punch me repeatedly till I 
Could no longer stand up right,till I lay in a pool of my own blood. How people          
would just watch and laugh but never stop and intervene. The pain and          
humiliation I felt only enhanced your glee.
 I've grown stronger, now nobody would dare mock me. Sometimes 
people aren't strong enough to survive this so they leave but some 
people come out stronger...like me. I remember how you'd get so angry
Because I never cried,I never screamed I just took it silently.
 When I look back I see how small you were and I try to feel anger at what you 
did to me but I feel nothing. I try to hate you but I can't. 
 Maybe it's because I'm now successful and you have nothing to look forward to 
but another gruelling day of pain and little food.
I feel no hate only sympathy towards the person I once feared but no longer do. 
Now I look back and smile at how I could've stopped you and I know you 
realised this too, now I know why you only ever hurt me when your friends were 
around to hold me down. I admit you've ruined me in many ways. I can no 
longer trust people,love people,no longer look people in the eye,but I look back 
and smile  because if you had never hurt me like you did I wouldn't be the 
person I am today, I  wouldn't be as strong and independent,as successful and 
happy as I am today, I would never feel such a strong sense of justice like I do 
now so I would like to thank you for making me a better person.
                                           
                                                Thank you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


      
     

Copyright © Secrets inyoureyes | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

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 | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Puppy Love

.


          in kindergarten
          she gave me her tooth
          instead of kisses
          too many years later
          softly biting my lips



5/5/5/6/6
94 characters

.

Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2015


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Philosophy of Free

Voices facing headwinds feel the calming seas
Elephants grasping backdraft tails are letting
go and hearing the rumble of discontent.

The runaway (with your $$$) train called washing-
ton with earplugs jammed so tight hairpieces
jiggle with every falsehood.

People are waking up!
People are waking up!

Were you asked if money is better spent (1/2 trillion$
stolen from
your future) arming blurred sides in Syria that we
intend to bomb? then decry their use against us?

We the people are no longer in control and live in
fear. Do you worry I cannot speak freely in this
land of liberty?

WHY?

My ancestors died in battle so I can write this
diatribe!

You, all of you artists, they fear us most...
and silence us if our words pull the sheep
away from 'dancing with the stars'

I am not a slave...I am not a slave

Rejoice in liberty!

Join my voice!

only james marshall goff
proud ancestor of the
Scottish Black Watch


12/12/14
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Already Dead

"Gosh, you're such a freak."
"Did you wake up that ugly?"
You say to me.
It has become a daily ritual that we partake in.
You say what comes to that cruel, 
unsympathetic mind.
And I sit, 
listening,
telling myself I'll be home soon.
Just a few more hours.
Not the rest of my life.
"Must be hard to look in the mirror. Is it cracked by now? You're a monster."
You laugh.
I slide further into my desk, 
waiting for you to leave, as you usually do.
I never look up, 
too afraid to make eye contact.
That'd be too personal.
Yet you always find a way to get eye level with me so I can see the anger in your eyes;
masked is hurt, maybe,
pain from your own life as if belittling me helps any.
"Tomorrow. Same time as usual. Don't get any more beautiful on me."
You say, clearly kidding.
You finally walk away.
I exhale out,
letting the air I've been holding in escape.
I sigh and get up to leave.
Whatever I'm feeling I push down inside,
just like any other day.
I can't break.
Not now, not here.
I go home and head to my room.
Once there, I can feel.
Fear and frustration, cross my mind first.
Anger and agony, follow.
Sorrow and sadness, next.
Then come the tears. 
Warm as they may be, they do nothing to warm my heart.
The words of the day always find a way to my memory.
Ugly,
freak,
monster.
Today was a mild day,
most are worst.
The tears continue for an hour,
tissues fill my bed.
Then they stop and I go on about my night,
always anticipating tomorrow.
The next day is the same.
Different day, similar names.
Hideous,
midget,
elf.
I try to feel nothing, but today I feel bitter.
Years of torment have changed me.
Allowed me to remain quiet inside until I want to feel.
At the end of of the day, 
as we normally would part ways you ask, 
"Why don't you just kill yourself?"
For once I look up,
"But I'm already dead."

Copyright © Lexy Goodluck | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Late night comedy show jokes

i am made up
in equal parts of what i believe 
and 
in equal parts, i believe in 
what i am made up of.

you break me down and you've got
equalityfreedomwomansrightsproch
oiceantibullyingantistigma-
herpes.

it makes no difference to
you 
what happens when I take my pants 
off.
but somewhere along the line I 
became a 
slut a whore a promiscuous little girl 
with no rules and regulations about 
who 
sticks their dick inside me until I'm 
infected with everything wrong in the 
world-
herpes.

they sell you protection in the form of 
condom boxes,
tied up in ribbons that say things 
like,
happy anniversary happy birthday 
happy Thursday happy **** me 
happy little ***** at the bar i can get 
my hands onto.

sex education is 
vacant and expressionless and 
i fell victim to 
don't get pregnant don't get pregnant 
don't.
get.
pregnant. 
oh **** what the **** is happening to 
my insides and my outsides and 
please dear god let the burning stop.

this isn't some blame game,
this isn't some speech,
this is a plea and a please stop 
satirizing my life 
with your late night comedy show 
jokes about my ******. 

my herpes 
not yours 
not my next door neighbors 
not the pharmacists 
not the doctors
not yours.

So get down off your high horse and
try to figure out how
you
will avoid an infection that affects
80% of the population and why
we are all so damn afraid of it. 

Herpes isn't hereditary but ignorance 
is. 

Copyright © Living Faith | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

EGG-STRAPOLATIONS 3

 “And how are you named dear Owl?” The Owl continued to look dignified but uttered no reply, rather it fixed Dumpty with a thoughtful look – “Gee it must have been hard going out there searching how far did you search? and what about your craft?” “I secured our boat right away” said the Owl, “and then began flying to search him out, that ocean is the sea of forgetfulness, and I can see how you could lose your understanding memory of distance and so on.. I have been searching right up until last night” “Wow!” exclaimed Dumpty, that must have been 28
days”.  ”Yes about that time” answered the Owl, “you must be really tired” said Dumpty. ”I don't mind if you wish to get some sleep after all that searching” As he finished saying this the bird tucked its head in, closed its eyes and started to sleep...'
©JOE MAVERICK 1-3-2014

just put a typo right replaced a H with D

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2014


Details | Anti Bullying Poem | |

Delusions of grandeur

As she sits upon her self proclaimed throne
placing an imaginary crown made from stone
Frail old woman - her hair bristly and grey
Yellow teeth - rotten and plagued with decay
No creativity - deluded with no talent to show
Fire in her eyes rages - envy begins to grow
A false impression of one's own importance
Has led to an existence of no real substance
Send them to the gallows for punishment!
but she is a dictator with atrocious judgement
Doctors say it's a mental illness with no cure
Doomed are those with delusions of grandeur
But, to her nobody stops to understand why
the reason her behaviour is so erratic and sly
Alone for so long - without a love to call her own
Only thing she wants is appreciation to be shown

The Silent One
19 October 2015

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015