Evil Child Poems | Evil Poems About Child

These Evil Child poems are examples of Evil poems about Child. These are the best examples of Evil Child 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.

The poem(s) are below...

Details | Free verse |


Note: This is a sequel to the previous poem "Idiot" with the imagination of what if..................    


I have awoken from my nightmares
I have grown up from my screams
The years have been kind to me
Except the first few of terrorizing fear

I am a big girl now
Why I shall soon be fourteen
The boys chase me for that magical kiss
They have no idea how they all miss

For I have had only one love
He is the only one buried deep within my heart
It’s him I must have
And have him I will

The prison doors will open
He will walk right into my arms
My letters show him my pure devotion
He smiles knowing I am there, his potion

He was away for ten years
For family issues he doesn’t like to say
I will take care of you daddy
Each and every day

In the half way house, I fix his first dinner
A pill you see will make him somewhat dimmer
Off to slumber he falls
Soon he will wish hell was his first call

Awake now daddy?
How does it feel?
Tied up tight, must feel bloody good, right?
Don’t worry daddy, I am sure to bite

Now daddy used to have fingers
He even used to have toes
Now he has no manners
He throws up as I go

I toss his eyeball against the wall
Like marbles, such games are fun even when we tall
His other eye seems not to believe
His daughter in his footsteps weaves

So he misses a tooth or two
With no feet he needs no shoes
His legs are soaked in his bloody pain
Yet I must discipline him, at his own game

I am such an angel at my high school dance
The inside of me I don’t show, there is no chance
Let them see my angelic eyes
My daddy sees my pleasures has he cries

I read the bible when I was nine
Eye for an eye, now that’s so fine
The molester is being punished for his crime
I am may be fourteen, but I drink the punishers’ wine

My daddy hasn’t much breath in his lung
Why soon his story will be the last sung
He paid in full his debt to me
I made sure of that, the devil did see

The world is one happy merry go round
Think twice if you wish to screw 
This four year old child shall return it to you
For flesh and blood, I shall collect every pound

Bye bye daddy

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Young lambs in Poverty

In this dark and dreary world, the urchins forced to toil

Their  body bared and tarnished, gain little sleep and boil

Tiny hands and feets famished, no love they had meet

Like young lambs for slaughter, were they forced to cheat

Sold away by father, with no heart but only greed 
How my mind cries, watching this heinous deed

And sighs, its a discriminating fate unfair. 

© Nadiya (22 Jan '15)

*Won 4th place on 4 Feb 2015 in the contest 'Interlocking Rhyme' by Isiah Zerbst

Copyright © poesy relish | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |

I sneak away from my past

I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
What you see you can't believe
that this life is of me.
Raped an burned cut an sliced
by daddy big ole knife.

I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
The things You made me do
an the things you did to me
would make you cry you see.

A child so young an afraid
black an blue maybe grey
she never has anything to say.
Broken bones every now an then
as Mommy sets there an just grins.

I sneak away from the past 
looking through a mirrored glass
I pretend every things ok
As daddy looks this way
an tells me just what to say.

I sneak away from the past 
while looking through that 
mirrored glass as my time here
has almost past.

I leave this world far behind
as mommy an daddy's world 
will shine.
Locked away for ever in a day
This is where they'll always stay.


Copyright © anita harris | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |

One Speaks Aloud

Soul stripped.

Flesh ripped. 

Hope lost.

Time moves on not heeding the cost.

Hurt buried aside in the ditch.

Anger flares like a flip of the switch.

Fist tenses,
Wrenching blood from within.
Fingers pawing at the line of life,
White with streaks of red pressed flesh.
Ghost pepper strongly inhaled,
Nose like a waterfall over the lips.
Eyes clenched as tears meet sweat of the brow.
Foot tapping unceasingly faster,
Knee and leg exaggerating the attack.
Yoke across shoulders crunching bones.
Arms crossed, torso giving to gravity.
Pores gushing both hot and cold.
Mind races with head pivoting,
Circular on it's axle.

Soul?  The soul dancing???  How cruel...

Mouth ajar in disbelief.  
Tongue scratching to arise from it's lair.
Cheeks numbing,
Throat choked.

The beat of the soul continues...

Mind dampens.
Heart weakens.
Gut set to purge.

Soul keeps dancing... 

Heart, mind and gut can't hear the rhythm.
Body jolts in knee-jerk spasms.
Face curls in anger, 
Nose crunches cheeks,
Upper lip cliffs out over teeth,
Brow furrows, slanted cynically.

Mind perks up seeking to undermine...

Logic with misdirection lined.
All except the soul act as one.
The body relaxes, the masquerade begun.
"Nothing ever did transpire,
There is no real reason for this angst and mire."
Lungs breath a sigh of relief,
Heart makes off in the night like a thief.
Outward appearance turns abruptly calm.

The soul leaps up, raising an outward palm...

"Stop this at once! We've done this before!
Leading only to hunger, depression, and gore."
Soul connected to the source of life,
Reaches through the smoke of daunting strife.
Louder and louder the truth is yelled,
Mind, gut, heart and body remain uncompelled.

Suddenly, a piercing touch from without,
Skewers the essence of each with doubt...

The soul is a right a truth must break,
A two way mirror reflecting a fake.
The mind is steadfast not willing to commit.
The heart is frozen as opposed to lit.
The gut uneasy in volcanic burn.
Body's composure lost in a violent turn.

The soul is heard, the unforgiven must cave,
History includes a pain never forgave.
Voice it aloud all five parts of being proclaim...
"Release, us at once, from this torture and maim!"

Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |

Devil in the pullpit

Devil in the Pullpit

It's Sunday service,
and there you are!
A wolf in sheeps clothing, 
stalking your prey from afar.

your lambs are oblivious, 
they are being led to the slaughter, 
one would never suspect you, 
not even your own daughter.

People are charmed, 
by your style and charisma.
Little could they know, 
your intentions are so dismal.

Sinister at best, 
to describe your twisted plans. 
Seeking out the weak, 
who put their trust in your hands.

Externally seen as a "man of God", 
internally, you were nothing 
more than a modern 
day Judas Kiss!

As you prepare your sermon, 
no one has a clue;
the man who preaches salvation,
is an evil Pharisee too!

The organ begins to play, 
and I feel your cold stare. 
Without speaking a word, 
the warning is very clear.

Proudly, you once said to me,
"Go ahead and tell if you dare.
You think someone will believe?"
You don't know the power invested in me!

I sit amid the pews, 
concealing your secret.
I've held it in for this long, 
but I can no longer keep it!

You are a devil in the pullpit, 
a serpent among swine. 
Ruthlessly carrying out satan's work,
tainting that which is Divine....

Copyright © jennifer mullen | Year Posted 2017

Details | Didactic |

The Moral Point of Cinderella

Cinderella was disliked by her family, 
Her step-mother and her sisters;
Whilst she was kind and generous, 
They were evil and boisterous. 

All her family had a weight problem, 
But she was sim and elegant, 
Amorous and thoughtful, 
Coy, clever and somewhat bashful. 

But she hated everyday living, 
As she was just a housemaid and  a cook, 
So she most definitely wanted to attend the ball, 
Where the prince could at her look. 

But her step-mum said no, 
And both her sisters did gloat,  
So she knew she must escape, 
From her sinking boat. 

If your sociology is bad, 
You can believe in whoever for you so cares, 
And her role-model was her fairy godmother, 
Who in her did hope and for her had dares. 

She made it such that Cinders could, 
Attend the ball looking good, 
By transforming what they had themselves, 
Into a ball-gown and carriage with hood. 

The prince instantly fell in love, 
With Cinderella and her way, 
But she rushed off only leaving him her shoe, 
To follow up on her foreplay. 

Love comes above all else, 
When things are grim and rough, 
And you must determinedly secure, 
Those hope-beads that are made of good stuff. 

When you just can't find morality in your life,
The monarch’s voice stands for you,
And the King said that his son,
Should search for his love in the many and the few.

So he searched for her in every house, 
Finding her in a cold, locked room, 
And she insisted on trying on his treasured shoe,
Taking opportunity which banished all her gloom. 

You need to take opportunity with both hands, 
By its horns, steadfast and sure, 
And even make things happen when no light shines, 
So that you beckon and you lure. 

The prince forced a physical trial, 
Of the shoe on each ones foot, 
‘Cos love is physical, not just social, 
And is not just psychology’s reboot. 

Ok, Cinder’s godmother was a magic one,  
Not real to her step-mum or sisters, 
But when you’re suppressed and called inferior, 
Your thoughts are valid for your interior. 

Your actions are right, 
And morality is with you, 
Not those with money or riches, 
Whose selfish deeds do not do. 

Being born to abusive parents, 
Being born different, poor or destitute, 
Doesn't mean you must be such forever, 
Just that you need to be most resolute. 

So Prince Charming whisked her off, 
Right out of her house and her life, 
And that should be for all of us, 
Where hurt and hardship are rife. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

Stolen Children

Within life's cesspool, captives held for trade,
along infested ways where young-child rape
is glorified by twisted souls who gape
and for the purity of babes are paid.
In dim, demonic dwellings are they laid
and sold to loathsome loves who drape
stolen innocence in sin's evil curse--
beyond protection or rescuing raid;
the shadowy officials turn the head
to wink or sometimes join the savage curse.
Somewhere sad, broken parents, sobbing, lie,
tortured days and nights saturate with dread
while ever fuller grows the sex trade's purse:
the victims cry alone and ask God why.

Copyright, May 3, 2014
Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |

Poem for One Victim

On fringes of shadow, charred black of burnt night, 
she limps through the dimmest and cruelest of streets.
Huddled with her loss, body bruised and beat, 
Mama’s caked makeup tries hiding her fright.

Little girl of twelve pretends to be grown;
with tomorrow gone, she paints on red smile.
Bright lights flash cold eyes, wicked hearts defile;
all star-struck fresh thoughts are buried in moans.

An evil descends from man’s greed and scorn;
In dark suit and tie, an average, white face,
money for Mama, from far, west world place.
Screams pierce soiled mattress on hot, red-smeared morn.
From under tight ropes her stripped body bleeds;
recoiled in dried tears, she silently pleads.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

The Future Starts Here

The innocence is transfusing
and overturning 
the goat skin drums
children of the mills,
children of the junkyard,
and savaging
and we keep filling them with
mercury, nitrate, espestice, baby bombs
blasted out of their shaved heads
and foraging

Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Trump Defeats Terrorism

Yes the war on terror is over
It happened on the Canadian border!
Youssef, 5, was denied
For shopping for toys and terror thus implied

Now Youssef, 5 finished his chemo
The border patrol said oh no, oh no, no no no
No Arabs must be allowed to shop for toys
Not even ones getting chemo and seeking joys

The Mothers family lives in the US
She’s a Canadian for twenty years in her dress
But Trump stopped her oh yes oh yes
From spending her money in Vermont, poor little Youssef

Terrorism has been defeated, Trump does declare
A mother and her kids on a spending spree affair!
So evil to want to buy USA goods
You’d think Donald builds his stuff in the China back woods!!!

Note: I wrote this Free Verse, also something Trump wants to eliminate, the Free Press and the Truth.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

Rondelet: Yang be evil

Rondelet: Yang be evil

  for the continuously raped and hidden
     minors of India

Yang be evil
Yin acts with rash impunity 
Yang be evil
No power controls the Devil
Wombs despoiled in mad enmity
Innocence: raped humanity
Yang be evil

(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2012

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

A child's plea

Dirty rotten scum to take the life of an innocent one torn away from my childhood but not yet thrown into adulthood you've given me a life of pain certain to only knowing, that never again, will the days be the same but I have found my new freedom here, within these mighty walls known as Gods kingdom

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

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 | Couplet |


Copyright © 2013

Skittles and a soda
against a gun in its holster?

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

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

Had everyone sitting and waiting
doomed by a verdict just delaying

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

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

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

A verdict they too saw,
ushering in martial law

by: LP
edited: 7/30/13

Copyright © Les Pruitt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |


From the age of seven
they were sent down the mine.
The darkness struck terror
but they dare not complain.

With the dust and the grit
in that black evil place
they crawled through the filth
to work at the coalface.

When they cut a new seam 
it turned the air toxic.
They coughed and they choked
and struggled in panic.

When they tried to escape
they could not get away
as the exit was locked
til the end of the day.

When the coalface collapsed,
alive they were buried.
Some were never dug out
but just left there as dead.

When a child died like that,
parents offered some pence,
which the coalmine owner 
thought was fair recompense.

In that meanest mine-shaft,
with each child a cheap slave
there were many young deaths
and the pit was their grave.

Copyright © Tony Hargreaves | Year Posted 2016

Details | Nazm |

NaFarmaan NaKhalf Baitay Ka Noha-- Elegy of a Disobedient and Evil Son

BeAdab gustakh jab aulad ho jaye
Chain sukh maa'n baap ka barbaad ho jaye

Cheen le budbakht jo walid ka sarmaya
Jeete jee kion baap na barbad ho jae

Aasteen ka saamp that beta nhi the woh
Maut ae usko woh barbad ho jae

Baap kee jo he raza Allah kee bhi he
Aashna is qaul se aulad ho jae

Maa'n ke hee pairoan talay jannat ko kar talash
Rah se bhatka jo too barbaad ho jae

Beta boorhay baap ka baazu he kehlata
Beta ye na samjhay toh barbaad ho jae

Nek o taabaydar ho aulad to wallah
Walideen ka dil khushi se shaad ho jae

Kia karein woh waladeen jab nakhalaf beta
Mayel e jaur o situm eejaad ho jae

Qibla o Ka'aba kuch kumtar nhi maa'n baap
Kaash hurmat aashna aulaad ho jae

Deen o dunya chin gaee naKhalf betay se
Baap per jo mayel e bedaad ho jae

Tu ne mera dil dukhaya to he mere lal
Hashr tak tu unsuni faryaad ho jae

Kion na ho jae pidar phir zinda dar-goar
Jab pisar badbakht hee sayyad ho jae

Copyright © mazhar butt | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |

A Mother and Lost Child

Here's  a terrifying piece of news about every mother's nightmare...
Happened in broad daylight with numerous customers everywhere...

A mother, busy festive shopping in a local retail store, was distracted for a couple of minutes...
She had her eyes and hand on her sweet little girl of 6 for all but a couple of minutes..

She turned around, panic rising but her sweet darling was nowhere to be found..
Her frantic eyes scoured all over as she desperately searched the whole floor...

Acting fast, she informed the supervisor of the store, and a alarm was sounded...
Panic button was hit and there was a security lockdown immediately effected...

Exit points were secured and free movement among the customers was curtailed...
An immediate search operation kicked in while a loving mother wallowed in despair..

For some 10 minutes it was high suspense noticeably tangible in the air... 
Patrons and management alike intensified search in rising desperation..

Until a scream of exultation pierced through the tumultuous situation and turmoil...
A moment of pin dropped silence hung suspended in the air as all involuntariy recoiled...

Then a frantic throng of people rushed in haste to the wash room area....
To witness the emergence of a security lady craddling a bedraggled little girl..

The little girl was a sight, her long hair was half cropped, she was dazed...
Gone was her dainty little dress, she was in a garish pair of pants, eyebrows shaved...

There was a few seconds of shocked silence, then the mother rushed forward..
A huge roar of approval erupted and claps of elation thundered in unison...

Loving parents, do take heed for this was no figment of my imagination....
It did happen and the local daily papers headlined this episode for attention...

All it takes is some 5 minutes for a predator to lead away an innocent child...
In their evil ways, predators have endless devious means to sneak away your child...

I hope this little prose of mine is pleasant enough reading but let it be clear...
The message within is a dire warning to all parents who hold their loved ones dear...

Please be forewarned for dangers abound in the wide world out here...
Please be forearmed in order you and your loved ones are in the clear...

Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |

Betch Please, Really

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

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ottava rima |

The Result of Cruel Fate

The crone can hear the children's laughter, cold as ice
And they exclaim out "witch", not thinking she can hear
Their parents then admonish, "Try to be quite nice."
Upon her thin, emaciated form they leer
Of love forbidden she has paid the awful price
Malicious magic powers all the children fear
She only wears black, mourning each and ev'ry day
Her world is full of dismal, somber shades of grey

She loved a wealthy cultured handsome gentleman
But she had not the clothes nor proper pedigree
And never would be issued any wedding bann
For poverty did not amuse his family
When finding herself great with child of his, she ran
She felt displaced, just like a dead uprooted tree
In bleak back alley child unwanted disappeared
No chance immoral tainted peccant child be reared

Although she lost her core, her heart, her soul, her mind, 
She wandered dazed and crazy back to town she knew
Her fam'ly said, "We never have produced your kind."
There was no place to go and nothing left to do
But after mournful agony she came to find
Satanic powers very evil she would rue
She met the incubi in wooded forest glen
Although she knew it was an awful, grievous sin

Her soul and body raped by evil forces bold
Instilled in her the seeds of their foul awful pow'r
That grew more potent as she grew extremely old
Demolished, shattered self continued still to sour
Her sterile body, now quite barren, grew ice cold
A vile vexatious tongue lashed out at all each hour
Thus she became a bitter venomous old hag
While dressed in filthy clothes; on head, a dirty rag

She met a fine genteel young man, so good and kind
A person reaching out to all in charity
Attempted making better lives where he could find
He wanted human folk achieving parity
However, he had never met an evil mind
The succubus seduced his soul with clarity
 She crippled psyche; took his cash, his bonds and stocks
 Her languid lips convinced him caged; no keys for locks

Then when the moon was full one night, she murdered him
Around his vile demise all sorts of tales arose
She had dismembered rigid corpse each limb by limb
Disposed so very well of ugly bloody clothes
The whole ordeal had been a gratifying whim
Upon his naked body set a blood red rose
His corpse was never found; base tales do not abate
Today she suffers vile result of cruel fate

Copyright © Alvin Thomas Ethington | Year Posted 2006

Details | I do not know? |

Innocence Proven Guilty

Not  a child,
Not weak,
Hot and strong,
A syndicate is yet to happen.

Yearning to have a future,
Loving caring and in-no-cent,
Not mean,
But means good.

A girl,
So young - Very,
Wants to have it all,
She is tender, green and delicate,
Inwards, black - Dark,
Steps too fast for him.

A dark cloud forms,
Innocence hides danger,
Kindness turns wicked,
Goodwill turns evil,
Care becomes a flare,
Leaving the place Burning.

Before he realised,
Before things turn right,
Innocence proven guilty as charged.

That's it,
The rule of law,
It runs the society.

Copyright © Lord James | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose |

Innocent Elevator

As I hover over the darkened room, I wonder how I have gotten here. Did I die, was I 
dead? That was the only explanation I could think of for my disembodiedment. But 
concentration was lost as a little light exudes from the shiny bedside table. Little golden 
ringlets push back fluffy bunny sheets and tiny painted toes shiver upon contact with the 
bare floor. I watch as she looks frantically for “Teddy”, whispering his name with most 
urgently. She finds him at last in the toy chest, tossed in so haplessly. She gives him a little 
squeeze and kisses each shiny buttoned eye, then scolds him most harsh, for this was no 
time for hide and seek, he has a job to do. When she has had too much to drink before 
being tucked in to sleep, it is Teddy’s duty as man of the house to escort her to the 
lavatory. I glided without a sound, watching from high above as the two made their way 
down the dark hall, and said nothing in my waiting outside the bathroom door as the two 
giggled, splashing soapy water on the floor. But I couldn’t remain silent as Teddy talked the 
golden haired child into opening the front door after the midnight hour. I tried to warn her as 
she poked her curls around the frame to look down the corridor. And as the elevator doors 
across the hall opened revealing a shrouded man residing inside, my voice got stern and I 
spoke with a smoky voice. She can’t hear you, echoed inside my head, but I could 
not give up, they were in danger, this innocent kid and instigative bear. I screamed until my 
invisible voice was hoarse as I watched the tiny figure cross the elevators thresh hold and 
into the arms of death. Helpless I floated my front row seat to doom. And as the metal doors 
slunk closed, beauty and bear disappeared under a black cloak and all was lost. 

Curse you teddy, you are supposed to be her protector. How could you, she trusted you, 
curse you.

I cried ghostly tears and wept without restraint. What was the purpose of witnessing such a 
horrible event if I could not intervene? And as metaphoric tears streamed down my wraith 
like face, I myself began to dissipate. I closed my eyes to shield them from my complete 
disappearance. But I felt like I still existed in the world of the living. I opened my eyes to 
confirm my suspicion and in one fleeting moment of bliss, I realized it had all been a dream, 
a nightmare. My heart lightened, my steps quickened and I sang with joy as I readied myself 
for the day. What happiness to know that it was all a manifestation of an unsupervised mind 
and no child had met an untimely fate. No mourning mother, no depressed class mates, no 
scares for a society of the meek and timid. No, all was well. I was a bit startle at the thud of 
the morning newspaper hitting the cement of the porch, but I was so high on a life saved by 
circumstance, I wasn’t going to let it give me a fright. I gingerly opened the door and bent 
down to accept the printed gift from the city when I saw the headline on the front 
paper. “Elevator Killer” Claims Another Victim. 

My knees sank; my heart sank, never again would I close my eyes, never again would I 

This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |

To A Child Who Has A Disorder

Children with an illness,
Go through life,
They are looked down apon,
Because they are different,
When really they are not,
They are no different from  you and me,
They have the same blood,
Running through their bodies,
Just as their hearts as well,
So, don't just look apon,
Their outer appearance,
And judge them,
For who they really are,
For a lot of them,
Are smarter and brighter,
Than you and I,
Could possibly be,
On our brightest day,
For they have the gifts,
From God up above,
So, always take the time,
To get to know their inner beauty,
For who they really are,
Cause they too need love,
Just as everyone else does,
If not even more.

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Life is Not Fair

Life is not fair
Life is not kind
Life is nothing but evil
Or for me it sure feels like it. 

My father doesn't want me
I'm my mother's mistake
My son is the only one holding me
to this stake
we call life. 

They say look to god
with prayers and thanks
Look down at the devil
with an devilish smirk

I believe in neither
because what have either done 
for me? 
My life feels like hell

My father,
Why did you leave me
when I needed you most?

My baby's father,
Why did you give up
on the relationship
I cherished and kept close?

My mother,
you're hateful words
have driven my emotions
to be closed. 

My life his hell
But I keep going
Stuck on this stake
We call life

Life will never be fair
Life will never be kind
Life will forever be hell
Or so is mine.

Copyright © Keonna Hunt | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Come To Their Rescue

Still streaking down their lonely cheeks,
so many tears are shed.
With cries throughout the longest nights,
those nightmares are widespread.

I've maybe heard them once or twice,
but please bear this in mind -
there's so much shopping I must do
and outfits I must find.
The birthday parties I attend,
the weddings, funerals too -
and holidays are coming soon.
Oh, what am I to do?

Or maybe I am all wrapped up
inside my fav'rite teams -
the one that's in the playoffs now
fulfilling this fan's dreams.
For those who live outside my world,
how can I really care?
What can I do while I am here -
and they are over there?

To rescue someone?  Tell me how.
They don't live next to me.
How can I hear their cries for help
when they, I cannot see?
Once unaware of torture, my
snug ignorance was bliss.
But why should I now waste any time
here telling you all this?

The raping, loss of self-respect
and murdering of girls,
can't push important things aside
like shopping now for pearls.
Do I hurt anybody?  No!
It's Jesus I exalt.
So do not tug at my heart strings.
Their pain is not my fault!

And don't think I'm not thankful here
in warm and toasty bed -
between my clean, soft cotton sheets
as pillow hugs my head.
 But muffled screams - I hear them now.
They, in my mem-ries, stay.
They linger through the cold, dark nights
and pester me all day.

Oh, who can hear those victims scream
through distant, starry nights?
And who can hear survivors cries
from cruel and futile fights?
Though innocent, survivors moved.
They had no other choice.
They lost their homes and furniture
and with it all, their voice.

I cannot see those makeshift tents
or taste what they call food.
I cannot stop those terrorists
or change my attitude.
I'm done with sports and shopping now
and buying myself stuff.
Their screams have fin'lly reach my ears.
I've failed them long enough.

I do not buy new outfits now.
And football's not my game.
I'm focused on the "least of these".
My life is not the same.
I once thought it important here.
I now no longer do.
I'll start by giving all I can
to come to their rescue.

It's serious, the plight they're in.
Please understand their worth.
As sin runs rampant over weak
around this evil earth.
Our Congressmen must focus too
while evil men connive.
Please vote to stop the terrorists
to save those still alive.

Still streaking down their lonely cheeks,
so many tears are shed.
With cries throughout the longest nights,
those nightmares are widespread.

©2016 lg ganderpoems.org

Copyright © louis gander | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Do Not Ask For Her Identity

This poem is for the contest of genocide, Speak for the lost, I am not entering to win as they have chosen only five genocides to be written about. I am entering this for them to know currently a genocide is happening and we are all silent then what is the point of going back to time while we cannot anything about recent genocide?

Dedicated to all of the kids in Kobane of Kurdistan who are suffering from ISIS attacks and genocide at the moment while the world is watching!!!

Don't ask for her identity 
 If you see a little girl 
 with her eyes full of tears.
 She must be a kurdish child of Kubani 
 Or she might be from Shangal!
 Don't ask for her identity 
 Don't ask why her heart is full of fears.

Don't ask for her identity 
 If you see a little girl with faded hopes
 Know that in middle of her dreams 
 She was awakened by the sound of gun firings.
 To escape the rockets 
 She would fly if she had wings.

Don't ask for her identity 
 If you see a little girl 
 didn't act like a child
 If you see a little kid with a frown.
 She is deprived of a normal childhood 
 By the fear of ISIS 
 Trying to take over her childhood,
 Trying to take over her town.

Don't ask for her identity,
 Just be silent like the rest of the world.
 Even when you see her blood in the streets, 
 Like the world leaders
 Be a coward 
 And don't say a word.

Goran Rahim

Copyright © Goran Rahim | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Bounded Truth

Condemned eyes bleeding 
unrighteous persecution
fear not consequential truth.

Past the unsaid 
your eyes speak riddles
bounded by vines,
behind stringent lies. 

Poisonous misery 
Seeks a porous heart.
Estranged soul
Set this world apart.

March 13, 2016

Copyright © Kimberly Heller | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


Some men are afraid of ignorance
They go about the land seeking truth
Opening their eyes to the filthiest of things
Wanting to know everything they can
They will never be fooled
Their knowledge will open others as well
Where the truth lies, ignorance lies also
Like a child longing for acknowledgement
Some fight blindly toward it
In hope to destroy it with their own two hands
Instead, it blooms elsewhere and grows
The truth shows us where the evil is
It exists as we do and lives as we live 
If evil in the man's eye does not exist
The absence of ignorance is a lie

Some men instead embrace ignorance
They stay where they are, content as ever
Their eyes see and their ears hear
Their desire to know is dull
The current takes them where it may
Truths are all but happenings
Their present is their pedestal
But the truth is still there
Walking in a dangerous dark
Calling on direction and value
Like a starved child screaming for sustenance
Like a father waiting to chastise his son
Ignorance is never ignored by them
It becomes their god
Can embracing ignorance, then, be a sin?

But even the treasure of truth can kill

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Snoopy And Linus Play Blanket Tug Of War

Snoopy is a crazy dog
His heads always in a fog
Thinking of some fun new ways
To steal a blanket each day
That Linus loves very much
But its like an evil rush
That turns Snoopy really "mad"
He wants this blanket really bad
Hiding in trees way up high
He'll pounce Linus walking by
With an evil scary look 
Becoming a blanket crook
Not giving up he will succeed
Something in him really needs
To win this blanket tug of war
It is deep in Snoopy's core
To find a cooky silly plan
And pull it out of this boys hand

A request from my daughter which I 
gladly wrote

Copyright © robin davis | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |

Evil Lives and Lies Among Us

He walks with confidence he has protected his family. The successful banker has 
done well for his family and his mind is set in stone that he is right eternally.
He does not care if others make the right journey.
He smiles and is satisfied that he rebuked the poor family away from his church. The 
poor family with the smart mouth child, who eats too much candy and stole some 
quarters. The child whose father rejected him and has no use for his illigetimate son.
The father sends his twenty-five dollars a week to quiet the child support monkey on 
his back. The child cries himself to sleep to know his father has no use for him.
Somewhere a hand reaches to the wayward child, to comfort and love. Somewhere 
there is love, but not at this disharmonious church!
Don't come to this church unless you have your tithes and clean clothes and know the 

I have come to call the sinners!

Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010

Details | Triolet |

The Atheist

My friend does not believe in God,
Some priest abused him at age eight.
Destroyed his life and it's so sad,
My friend does not believe in God.
His heart is pure, that's all he had
He hates religion, rejects faith-
My friend does not believe in God,
Some priest abused him at age eight.

Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~02.06.16 

(This is a true story)

Copyright © Cynthia Buhain-Baello | Year Posted 2016