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Violence Sympathy Poems | Violence Poems About Sympathy

These Violence Sympathy poems are examples of Violence poems about Sympathy. These are the best examples of Violence Sympathy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | I do not know? |

All Lives Matter

Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having 
a bad day.

Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't 
help but ask "where is humanity?"

Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.

Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.

How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
as help?

All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.

In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.

Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.

Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014


Details | Ode |

Love is a Sacrifice

You have my soul, but you have your fate Whatever your words, I’m willing to take You have my word; I’ll give you my breath It’s like a chain that would never be break You are my love with all my heart, I’ll fight for you with all my might. And in the way, you admire your goals, You hold my hands, but not so close. As you go to your chosen path, I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart. In the dark side, I leave behind Within my faith, that you’ll arise Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near I accept my fate for what it does, I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was? You reach your goals, as you want to have, Would you remind the man that gave what he had? As you reach the stars, and be the one Be a sun that shines its own. After the rain, the rainbow comes, Like dark in the moon, when the light flash A glimpse from you at least a short For then I knew my pain is worth.

Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Bukowski

Was it said before? Sure.
Was it said this way? I doubt it.
Perspective is in no way obscure,
And his works are nothing without it.

His motivation’s observed in daily life,
Misery, not just some vague inspiration.
He begs for reason, some way to lessen strife;
His words reflect a resounding desperation.

There seems a need at times to clarify, 
But that’s allowed in his terms only;
So many thoughts seem somewhat ‘rarefied’,
Fed his fire, but made him lonely.

No ‘underachiever’, not just another fool,
But still seeking solace by the glass;
Tempering his stagger and his drool 
With just a bit of ‘kiss my ass.’ 

But, usually, genius ‘sots’ come to ground,
Lucid moments - on the square;
Their driving ‘bolts’ of genius, word or sound,
Only written because they dare.

Yes, you can feel the written “heart”,
But few of us can realize that sort of pain;
No isolated misery… of many lives a part,
Each begs an answer... “Who’ll stop the rain?”

Yes, he’s lived it, seen it, and told it well;
But Timing is the Master of one’s Fate.
Is the timing right?  Funny…only time will tell…
Will you will be a whining sot or dare to be great?

One success can be lucky, we’ve seen that before.
One book, one song, then quietly fade away.
But six novels later, we should know the score;
He must have had something to say.

So, at the perfect time, someone heard.
Someone who was “someone” took someone under wing.
And to those with interest and empathy, they sold his words;
Saying they “are genius” and with “ugly truth” they ring.

But did he create any redeeming changes or impacts?
Yes, what singular influence did all his artful whining bring?
None... just a relentless, repetitive diatribe of sad facts.
Oh, yes…..and a little “ching ching”.

Entered in the "Idiot or Genius" contest 27 March 2014

not so genius

 

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014


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


Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

PAST OF HORROR


I wake up with another tear for I have again, relived the nightmare will it ever leave me with any way to see when will I again be able to see my family the past is forgiven so why is it still living my heart was so broken but soon after it was frozen let it lie and the past die for I have a life to live with but the past is still being relived how do I stop this past of torture so I can find my new future

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

the voice of a refugee

The voice of a refugee

What happened to this world?	
So beautiful in the past
The rivers lakes and oceans
And fragrance of the grass
 
And now the land is barron
It's no more fertile
I hope that the plants grow
Once again for a while
 
What happened to our society
So generous in the past
Now there is terror
Scaring the mass
Aware of all around me
but one thing I could not stand
It was worse than I could see
 
Women being beaten up
Children badly tortured
Level of terror rising up
No one's being nurtured
 
I want to change this
And bring back humility
Return the nature's bliss
And bring back prosperity
 
Then I realised that
I should be the change I want to see
To bring back that ball and bat
Instead of guns and artillery
 
I want to live freely
And not be so confined
It's not easy being a refugee
No house to live and place to find
 
It's my request to the world
To please help me
To be the change I want to see
And again be free

Copyright © avani pandit | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic monologue |

THE CRY OF MY HEART

Nightfall is near
Another day coming
What will my heart turn to be tomorrow
Another moment to cry is here with me
For darkness is here
I hear a sound there
My heart miss beats
I cling close to my bible
For danger lurks in darkness
I say short prayers every moment
Every single second I breath
This loud bangs deafens me
joy of the night is no more
Life with everything
But without anything
Peace is everything
I looked up to people 
But that peace never to be
I cling to my bible
The only comfort I had
That comforting voice guarded me
Through the storms of turmoil
I cant escape this soothing voice
Cause it holds me firm
feeble I may look
But strength from God keeps me
We will stand even if they fall
Peace is all the hearts need
We cant keep our tears in the pocket
Cause hiding them is betraying peace
Peace gives everything
hold my hand and I hold yours
Lets walk together via this
wipe my tears as I wipe yours
We are brothers we are sisters
I love you all
Love me all

Copyright © john ngugi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Uncle Sam and King James

I don't understand why joining the military is always viewed as being completely parallel, with serving the Lord and being what they call a Good Christian; why Uncle Sam and King James are always portrayed as "inseparable buddies". And I get so irritated reading the constant Facebook posts that make light of the war and bloodshed. There was one in particular that popped up, during Christmas time. It showed a picture of Arabs running in a frenzy from some terrific explosion. And written on the photo, in bold text, was some crude parody of Jingle Bells. I can't remember the whole song but it went something like "Oh what fun it is to shoot a torpedo up your ass!". I could see the comments section was filled to the brim with LOLs and ROFLMAOs. And I'm like... what's wrong with these people? What is there to make jest of here? I'll never understand why the folks on the opposite side of the shore are always thought to be "the epitome of evil". Don't you ever stop and think that they're probably thinking the exact same thing about us? When people are dying left and right, who cares on which piece of land the bodies fall! Can we not ditch this you're-either-with-us-or-against-us mentality and look at the people over there, as not just "a distant thing happening so far away that it's none of my concern."...? They are human beings and deserve our RESPECT!

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

CARNAGE BY THE SAVAGES

Parisians were enjoying a lovely evening
and their Joie De Vivre was radiating;
every joyful eye in the Concert Hall, in restaurants, in cafés,
in the Stadium and busy streets captivated stunning images! 
 
A revengeful voice rose from within the young, swaying crowd;
bullets flew to kill them randomly while outside all windows
rattled and glass shattered like crystals! Shot people dropped to the sidewalks:
terror had began! Everywhere one turned there was carnage
by the savages: some fled to safety as gunshots continued!
Chaos spread quickly than fire! Paris the city of " Liberte' " was under siege!

Express your sympathy for the French People who have experienced Hell,
bring your flag and flowers and light a candle where they were shot and fell;
Paris mourns: the Eiffel Tower is darker than the streets that lack their harmony!
Paris is that iconic symbol of Liberty which her brave sons fought for so gallantly!


My poem is dedicated to Paris:
the City Of Lights and Liberte'.
Written on 10/20/2015






  

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic monologue |

The Night that I witness a friend dying over Jordan's

The Night that I witness a friend dying over Jordan’s.
It was a peaceful night a peaceful night that will jeopardized everything. So Me and my friend Calvin were so thrilled to buy something special to us and those were Jordan’s. So we looked all around and found something we like. I personally changed my mind so I went with a Jordan backpack instead.  While my friend purchased the red and white Carmelo’s they were smooth as ice smooth as Michael Jackson doing the shiny unbelievable moonwalk. We were so exiting that night until when we got outside we ran into an enemy from school name Terrence who realized that those were the last red and white Carmelo’s left so he became envious and jealous that he decided to rob Calvin as they got into an argument over it. I try to step in but I was pushed away. As I’m on the floor I witnessed my friend Calvin refusing and cussing Terrence out to give up the sneakers. So an angry enraged Terrence pulls out a knife stabs him six or more times in the heart and in his left temple as Calvin dies in my arms. Terrence attempts to come after me and stabs me but I attempt to avenge my friend so I wrestle with the knife and all a sudden I gasp. I’m stabbed three times laying on the ground with blood dripping out of my stomach. Terrence flees the scene and steals our stuff. Terrence  felt no sympathetic of empathy no even a guy to feel  regrets.   That moment of buying Jordan’s and a backpack was jeopardized and ruined forever. Eventually I survived the wounds and became a hero but Calvin he didn’t make it his wounds were damaged in the heart and a stabbing wound ending his   temple  
It’s my fault 
Calvin’s dead
It’s my fault
Terrence robbed us and got away.
I rather be dead.
Calvin should be living.
Why take him   ?
Why take me too   ?
Screw the world
I hate   it
MY fate is trash
I should die in a terrible crash like Left Eye.
But it happen to this day I’m bless and proud to say that I’m alive   , I’m a sole survivor. I’m Calvin’s new soul and heart and I am a hero of the tragic turn into a magical memory for my beloved friend Calvin .
Calvin lives I love you and rip.
Cmack Estevez
To be continued.

Copyright © Cmack Estevez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

INCONSOLABLE

The country is in a state of uncertainty 
Almost every week there is a bloody scene that’s dark and dreary
On the daily some hearts are suffering endlessly 
Right now we feel hatred, melancholy, malice, and envy
It should show that we are bereaved
Every mind and heart should be grieved
There are evil demonic spirits at work that our brains can’t yet comprehend
I do believe that this evil unseen started this trend
I also believe that’s why our minds feel these lost and hopeless emotions
We are constantly invaded by these deadly cataclysmic commotions
Until we look within this country needs to repent of its sins
This is where spirituality begins
God’s love for us is strong it won’t waiver or bend
Together we all have to strive to survive thinking life won’t end 
Let’s stop playing this blame game
All of these mass killings…. it’s a crying shame 
This isn’t just radical thinking, rather rational thinking 
I can’t let the strife of this world erase my jubilant smile
In all of this catastrophic senseless murders I still have love, peace and joy in my lifestyle
As our hearts are broken and stricken with grief we’ve all bled pain like drops of rain
But Let us be wise and humble our hearts…. and love each other in Jesus’s name 

Revelation 21:4  ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Copyright © Jeffrey Lee | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

Paranoia

Underneath my fingerprints of sorrow, Between his determined and swift disclosure, Few are spiteful for the sake of compassion. Wide-eyed noise pierces the remarkable silence While everyone around breathes a tender apology, As he lies, slumbering tranquilly.

Copyright © Macy Michelle | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Thief thy name is human

I met a hand with eyes but no vision
He touched me but only to fill his hunger
And I with a heart floated with anger
I wish I were a human 
But not of this hand
I just asked one day but only within

The muscular hand was no less than a muddle head
In life it was panting for death
And I In death panting for the former
He knew he could free me
But his knowledge is destined ignorance
Alas! His heart pumps only blood, no care.
To my one day

I croaked to his deaf ears for years 
But for one day
Neither a day is left nor a drop of hope 
My heart pounced on request 
And his on the lust to have me
I swam in his desire not in his concern
To my one day

I croak now to the world
Enchained in all this ego
Is there a hero out to rescue me
Oh I know the world is all a dark mirror of life
I know this just in one day 
That my day has come

Copyright © Rakesh Arava | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

A life of lies, A world of pain---

A life of lies, A world of pain---
The sun marked the golden skies,
The final beams that led the night.
Came the shimmering moon,
into the spotlight.

The heart and mind synced to fight,
the other man hidden from sight.
The only reason left to live.
Binding the family you have left,
The world has been too kind to you.

The place called earth deserted in vain,
to fight a battle against the other man.
Your cause bold but failed alas,
caused by the collapse of your aged heart.
This world has been too kind to you.
Seeing from heaven you see,
Life lived was too easy.

The world hiding away itself,
lying away guilt free, all because,
Of the other man.
---Udit

Copyright © Udit Uberoi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Epigram |

Additional advice to those would be King from the THIRUK-KURAL with Commentary

Additional free advice to those* who would be King from the THIRUK-KURAL with Commentary
[*like presidents, prime ministers, dictators of declining (falling or fallen) nations or even empires]

K442: urranOy niikki uraa amai munkaakkum
            petriyaarp peenik kolal

Cherish the all-accomplished men as friends,
Whose skill the present ill removes, from coming ills defends. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
Let (a king) procure and kindly care for men who can overcome difficulties when they occur, and guard against them before they happen. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)

Pope here makes a comment on Beschi's latin rendering of the maxim which we cannot attribute to him, for he adds the words: "See Pancatantra":
"Evils come from gods [read this word here as"Nature" - my interpolation] (malaiinmai/droughts, mikumalai/excessive rains, kaartru/winds, thii/fire, pini/disease); or from men (pakaivar/enemies, kalvar/thieves, chuttraththaar/kindred, tholilseyvoor/servants).
To remove the former, atonements (saanthigal) must be used. For the latter, the four methods (saamapeethathaanathandangkal) of pacification, disruption, gift, and punishment must be used." 

Commentary: Atonements? Can a whole nation, where collective responsibility is the case, atone for its misdeeds? For instance, for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Hardly likely. Most unlikely, so let Nature wreak its ravages: let loose typhoons, hurricanes, tsunamis and the like, taking into consideration President Trump's refusal to commit the USA to climate change rescue in Paris. 
As for the latter where individuals or groups of individuals are the perpetrators, THIRU-VALLUVAR's advice can make much sense even in our hotch-potch day and splintered age.  Let's take just one aspect of the issues at stake: IMMIGRATION and resort to just one form of remedy: PUNISHMENT.
First, massive immigration destabilizes society at large, engenders wherever sizeable minorities gather and take root, differences of opinion, ways and aims of life which produce conflictual situations that do not contribute to harmonious relations, on the one hand, among the diverse immigrant populations, and on the other, with the host communities whether or not their inter-personal perceptions, faiths, attitudes, customs, sense of respect for one anothers' practice of conventions,  and ingrained methods of abiding or not by the laws of the country of reception differ or are even partially similar. The illegal immigrant is by necessity and definition a "criminal" who has little to lose but his soul. He is an interloper in a society where - according to all previous aspirations - his hoped-for higher economic condition must be made to prevail over all others who pose by necessity a threat to his safety. In such a conflictual situation the battle is waged first and foremost against his rival - the other immigrant serving another "god". And here, the battle is a free-for-all where the villain is whoever who can take, pluck, steal, dupe, con, batter and even kill. The host merely shuts a conniving eye. When the immigrant populations achieve their aims, and rise above their initial menial circumstances, then they turn on their hosts, passports and citizenship papers in hand, that is, when they feel comfortable enough to sleep with the host's spouses and sire future presidents with the host's daughters; so what's the solution?

SIMPLE. CLOSE ALL BORDERS. SEAL ALL ENTRANCES!
1. Instead of the WALL, construct a high-powered ELECTRIC CORRIDOR; if need be, even in the north. Patrol the shores: this is  done normally anyway. (Demonstrate what would happen on tv to those who would want to "scale" the corridor: "Poulet roti" à la française* could serve as a good convincing example.)
2. Impose heavy fines on those who fly, railroad or ship illegal immigrants as a first offence. Especially on foreign airlines and travel agencies.
3. Second offenders must be crippled with payments they cannot afford.
4. Thereafter, prison sentences must be handed out without fail.
5. Next, deportation must be resorted to wherever and whenver possible, if it does not inhumanely split up families - children from parents.
6. All guilty of illegal entry must be made to pay off their "crime" by working on farms and "outsourcing" installations in a COLONY to be created within the States, under supervision by the authorities. This is not a PRISON, and if anyone chooses to leave* the "premises", he or she should be invited to work for his or her passage to wherever the person came from, in the first place.
7. Jordon and Turkey have absorbed masses of Syrian refugees. Why can't oil-rich nations: Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States be persuaded to lay out the red carpet to their brethren? Likewise with other rich Afro- Asian nations with others who flee their own tortuous shores?
* Just to give you an idea of how the Socialist French (who will be ousted in tomorrow's confirmation general elections) grill their chicken, sample this: 
In 1983 and 1984, I appealed to the Socialist President François MITTERAND for a "sauf conduit" (safe conduct pass) for me and my handicapped son out of the country. On the second appeal, I received an invitation from the president's Human Rights Counsellor, Mme Cécile SPORTIS to the Elysée Palace (read as the "White House"). After listening to me for over an hour, she asked for the proof which I provided in a dossier surpassing some 500 pages of documents and letters, etc. Appalled, she promised to shake heaven and earth to set things right. She asked me to call back "in a month". I did. Her secretary said that there was no trace of my file, except for a letter to a lawyer Me Jean-Jacques de Félice.
I wanted to know the decision of the President. She said there was none. André Fontaine, then the Chief Editor of the Le Monde paper called to check with the president. His reply was that, as I was not a "diplomat", he could not issue me a "sauf conduit" out of the country. 

©  T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Tale of a Hill

Peace is no more on the hill
Forest Fire in innocent eyes
I ask myself : who wiped out greenery ?
The bountiful landscape devoid of luster.

Red charcoal blazing on the red-carpet
The tribe’s damsel hammers
Her fate into sheets of sorrows.
Tremors of fear trickles down her cheeks.
Floats smell of gun powder
Over the small hamlets of the hill.
The sky above is within its limit.
Serenity is no more, there…..

Terrorism, a tiger in every tunnel
Wagon loaded dreams of life
Stops there to rest a while !
Shukrijani, the young vibrant tribe guy
Refreshes his AK-47,
Ridicules at old bow and arrows
Mysterious mustache on his oval face.
He Knows nothing of humanity
He is trained to kill humans.

The hill is no more a hill
No more abode of peace !
Old mother of Shukrijani folding her shivering hands.

Prays God: we want tranquility,
We want peace !
Inertia of unknown identity plays hide and seek.

The tribe’s damsel prays :
O’ God of my fate,
Transform me into mother Mary
I want to give birth
Another Jesus to bring
Peace and harmony down to earth !

Copyright © Neelamani Sutar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Vampire Blues

Having Death open doors for you is like humping a fat girl.
It's a hell of a lot of fun until your friends find out.
On the one hand, there's the power, the rush like none in the world,
On the other is the criticism of the religiously devout.

Got servants, and secrets, and science and séances, too.
Blood-rush wakes me at the first hint of night's kiss.
Got forty-seven reasons to tell myself I'm better than you.
But I can't feel you, and I can't remember what I miss.

I'm an empty vessel on an uncharted and lonely course -
Grasping at the glow of life only to crush it in my cold embrace.
You look but only see the swiftly donned mask of remorse,
My hellish deeds writ large upon my soul, not upon my face.

I'd give it all back just to walk under a sunny summer sky,
Return the blood-lust and emotional abyss postage due.
'Cause I gotta live forever without my reason to want to try,
I gotta walk eternity looking for another one of you.

Copyright © Christopher Reilley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue |

Domestic Violence

Abusive and know it's not right but you refuse to believe it is not your fault, 
you stay with him when he has beat you worst than a treat you less than a 
human; do you not realize it matters to your child and do you not see if you 
do not get away the cycle of violence will continue? Bitter hatred towards you 
he take out because he left his anger ball up, death soon will be your friend. 
I don't see how you can stay and you know he has become a threat to you and your 
child, no one knows but and the abuser; will you be happy when you are a morgue 
will you never realize what type of affect it will cause?

Copyright © Sharice Lewis | Year Posted 2005

Details | ABC |

The Earth

The earth it's so strange
This world out of my range
I hope it'll change
I do hope it'll change
 
 
What use of taking oath
When it can't be fulfilled
This money will be useless
when everyone'll be killed
 
 
The 9/11 attack
How can we ever forget?
It's the dreadful day all of us
Very sadly regret
 
 
The Peshawar attack
Blew up a million hearts
They pierced children one by one
As if playing darts
 
 
I never understood
What these people want
Because all they really do is
Mercilessly taunt
 
 
The 13/11 of Paris
So many people died
And I can't even wonder
Beneath my feet they lied
 
 
 
They just rub their knife
And never hesitate
They easily take our precious life
And never make it late
 
 
And in those last moments
I say a prayer for my loved ones
Oh God! please have mercy
And take away those guns

Copyright © avani pandit | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

What Else Is New

the fiber optic cables are swollen with grief
blood clots the airwaves
faces beyond despair stare from half a world away
newsprint is smudged with the tears it’s reporting

the world’s absurdity
nature’s cruelty
man’s depravity
all in high-resolution overdoses of reality

there are too many claims on my sympathy
too much need for the morphine of apathy 

to preserve my faith in humanity
I have to ration my pity

stop my ears 
turn away from the carnage

lest my heart grow cold faster than the bodies

so I exchange the funereal for the farcical
take sabbaticals from the news 
and seek refuge in the world of Pixar 

Copyright © Bernard Chan | Year Posted 2017