Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

Mother Hate Poems | Mother Poems About Hate

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

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

Details | I do not know? |


As I remain here where I lie,
I keep asking that I will quickly die.
I hate this stupid self-centered life,
where all people are filled with hate & strife.

As my mom feels so wonderful from popping pills, 
I'm stuck here with the worst gut-wrenching feeling that kills.

I'm sick of my life being filled with tears, cutting, & sadness.
Why can't we just end all the madness?

Why can't people have a life where no tears are seen, only laughs, smiles, & happiness.
And no one could intervene?

Copyright © Halee Britt | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

This poem is my own recovery from Valium O Little White Tablet


O little white tablet, how I hate you,
I was only 21 years old, when introduced to you.
You looked so innocent, so white, so pure.
I was told you were the answer to everything,
(The cure)
No-one told me, when they introduced me to 
the rest of your family, the yellow and the blue.
The blue being five times stronger than you.
No-one told me of the dangers you held within.
Of all the pain I would have to go through, all the suffering.
No-one told me. YOU would rob me, of eighteen 
years of my life.
That I would be unable to function properly,
as a Mother and Wife.
No-one told me, I would get addicted to you.
Of all the pain and suffering, I would
have to go through.
To get you out of my system, alone took two years. 
Two more years of heartbreak, many, many tears.
Then to find out, I had Agoraphobia.
Several more years, destroyed by fear.
Which a lot of people, say is caused by you.
Not being able to go out, far or near.
Hurting all the ones, I loved so dear.
O little white tablet, how I hate you.
But in the end I was the winner Not you.

This poem refers to prescribed drugs

Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2011

Details | Dramatic Verse |

My Dad

My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom. 
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's 
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .

Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world . 

Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life . 
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?

I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters 
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.

Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .

Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party,  how and when,  Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock . 

 "Dad Passed " received call  from sister whom just stayed a week with me ,  I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.

I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.

He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~

I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme. 

 Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
 Are you Glorified with Power?  Denied the right to grieve , 

 Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .

My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks. 
 We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.

Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...

(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)

a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue |

Southern Love Southern hate

Southern love,  Southern hate 
they are the opposite of each other 
 I have  memories of both in the State I love dearly.

Going back to a old plantation home in the South ,
as a child I played in the many Pecan trees , collecting baskets upon baskets of fresh pecans .

the smell of fresh pies , of pecan and rhubarb , oh my Mom took the prize .

One afternoon , School was out , it was in summer  , reminisce of fresh lemonade 
My Mother called my name 'child come in here now " in the middle of the day ' 
she many times called and I would hide in this paradise full of honeysuckle and pecans .

This time the tone was one of fear , and alert , "come inside Now"
 I ran to the top of the old plantation stairs to my Mother .
I saw in the distance what seemed to be a parade in the day .

This time the parade was of people in "white sheets ' going door to door,
just like salesman they would knock , they would greet .
my Mother said " We have no time for this here " leave now , and leave fast. yours is only teachings of Discriminate .

she sent them quickly away , giving back the paper , the invite 
These people dressed in funny white  sheets .  
only later I discovered what this was about 
Your Parents do their very best , to keep any Evil out .

These people are not just from the South , they are all over the World 
Leaving me that day with no doubt . Make the choice you have , we all do
Remember Gods Children are innocent , and many a color , they could be Blue ~

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |


Let the Deicide commence.

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

I'm Cleaning Out "MY" Closet

I went to the mailbox.
Much to my dismay; 
I would've rather had smallpox,
Than what I found today.

I may sound dramatic,
And I guess that is true,
But what I found so traumatic;
You sounded so blue.

Did it cross your mind
As I curled in your womb,
That the parents I'd find
Couldn't deal with your bloom?
Did you find some compassion
When you ran like the wind?
Did you dress in high fashion
Or the flower child trend?

I hate that my screaming
Got under your skin.
One nurse was redeeming,
So the doctor dropped in.

I think I will tell you
The source of our pain
Was a clavicle fracture
With a nerve induced strain.

This poem's about Childhood,
And all it intels.
I won't create falsehood,
For truth always sales.

Don't put your guilt and pity on me,
Or whatever you felt in the latter. 
You'll never know that the flower you'd see,
Came from mental abuse, hate and batter.

Copyright © Astrid Ivy Gibbs | Year Posted 2008

Details | Villanelle |

mother WHO i HATE

Mother, mother can't you see?
How much are you putting the needle,
Deep inside of  my heart?
I know the pain won't go away!
I know you are blind to see the truth!

Pain pain pain,
When will you go away?
Anger, hate & discouragement
Always comes my way!
What am I supposed to do?
I feel alone deep inside,
I feel the empty pressure against my chest,
In a prison of hate,
I am sick of the people who I love,
Betraying me & ruining the trust,
God above who sees your actions,
I hope He will never forgives you,
For you who keep on sin.

One day you will see 
Throw my eyes & my pain,
One day you will stop on pretend,
Realize your mistakes,
It will be too late,
I will be gone far away,
I will never come back again!

Copyright © shirin neshat | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

I hate Mother's Day

Its been over 27 years coming
 this missive or letter,
 maybe poem ? 

I HATE Mother’s day !!
 with a passion ... I've said it ...
 The sheer relief is palpitating
 a load of my mind, and body,
 slithers away peacefully knowingly,
 just to see those words in writing,
 Actually I find the words out of reach
 to express my utter relief, just now 

Don’t get me wrong,
 It’s not that I don’t love or
 want to celebrate my mother
 or lack feeling for her
 Oh ! it’s completely the opposite 

Not only does it remind me what I miss (her)
 but it also reminds me, what,
 what I always felt I lacked
 (as a mother I mean), and I've felt
 it for many years, since my first 

My mother and hers and my father and his
 set the standards so high, so very high
 that I thought hey, I'm smart ?
 I can be a mother a better mother
 like no other, like no other indeed !

I remember receiving gifts
 being overwhelmed with joy
 that first mother’s day
 I was graced with that love
 and all those crazy
 Motherly emotions, we mothers feel
 I felt gratitude for all that
 and so much more 

But then doubt crawled into mind
 setting up house, making a home
 that would last the whole lifetime
 of my eldest son, until these past
 days filled with agony, measured
 no longer in minutes or hours
 but in each moment of pain 

I felt I hadn’t been there enough
 I knew, or thought I knew
 I hadn't loved them 'enough'
 or soothed their pains
 or made their bed 'enough',
 Jesus, the shit I poured
 down my own back 

I lack many things, though
 I had wisp of a dream
 that hope would win,
 I'd be a mother, like my own
 but that wasn't to be

life changed like a hurricane
 I lived one life and then
 another took its place
 no better or worse,
 just different 

my children never went without,
 then they did for more years
 than the former, I felt the pain
 each time I said 'no' but always
 tried to rob Peter paying Paul his due
 and went without, yes even food 

then slowly as times sands swiftly
 drew threw the hourglass
 they all left, got jobs, found love
 and made lives without me,
 I never get to see them much
 some more than others 

over time it’s taken its toll
 I thought lack of contact
 spoke about the mother I was
 how much I was loved
 I was right,
 it was saying something
 just not what I thought 

I have saved two of mine
 from the very hands of death,
 I have went without sleep
 for more reasons than I care to list
 I have answered the phone
 in the dead of night
 spoken about everything
 and nothing 

I missed a call to bail a man out
 but alas it was the one night
 I have known the hands of sleep
 all night, for a very long time
 so I forgive myself, even if he doesn't 

I have slaved and went without sleep
 Christmas night, just to see their
 little faces in the morning
 I always tried my best hoping
 and praying, yes praying !,
 (to that one in the second row
 Saying, "I always knew she prayed")

Some will take a shot at a guess
 at why I write this just now this close
 to a day that should be celebrated
 for all mothers the good ones and the bad 

It’s because even a bad mother can love
 with every fiber of her beautiful soul,
 even a bad mother can be a good mother
 on those days that end with a child’s peace 

As my days trickle to hours and minutes
 I know mothers never ever stop being mothers
 yes even the bad ones, can love forever
 with passion that burns from her womb 

There is a feeling that only a mother can feel
 and I don’t mean just birth mothers,
 I mean all mothers Biological or not
 they all feel it in their hearts and minds
 in their bodies and souls
 even the children she gave homes to
 (but not life), in doing so
 is giving a life to without
 knowing first breath,
 and yet still carry with them a love
 they will always bare
 then as times hand lays his head
 and says enough, she is gone 

it is now on this Mother’s Day
 I say, I hate mother’s day even more
 because I am a motherless child
 wishing for just a few moments more
 so I could tell my mother
 she was the best mother, like no other,
 Because she was mine 



there’s a lesson here for you children
 those lucky enough to still have their mother
 give her a call and just say I love you, then hang up !!
 let her think what a "cray cray crazy" child she has
 but wouldn’t change for anything even life
 and I bet she smiles ... eventually 

time will never stand for no man or woman,
 So love your mother and tell her, once a week ? maybe? 

To my kindred souls who have felt the loss
 and the stinging cut of the wounds
 that drip with grief from their loss
 today I hate Mother’s day too ......

but there's a lasting but here,
 I forgive my beautiful soul,
 I gave 'enough', it was all I had ...

Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

I Hate Aunt Floe

NOTE: This poem is a humoruos stab at PMS from a mans point of view

I can see your blood boiling
through  the blades I once called eyes,
they were once beautiful  like jewels
now they hurt my deep insides.
cutting at my guts
and like a noose on my  lungs;
your words seek like bullets 
your mouth like sniper guns.
I’m hit with each inaccuracy…
Being killed by words untrue;
and you even got the nerve
to tell me what you think I do.
But let me get mad
and try to plead my case;
then suddenly the world
is a f--ked up place.
You got tears running down…
What the Hell did I do?
We were just sitting and laughing
I could swear that we were cool.
Oh God…
Oh no…;
I should have seen it… 
It’s Aunt Floe…,
This battle can’t be won or reasoned
I think its best I go.
Cause I hate Aunt Floe 
and she hate me too;
she sit and talk sh-t
about the gum I chew. 
The color of my shirt…,
She say my look is a stair;
She say my best has no worth
And she doesn’t stop there.
I didn’t change
I’ve been the same 
these 28 days,
 but now I’m f_ckin A__hole 
Aunt Floe gave me that name.  
She said get out my face 
This aint your home no more,
But I’m more puzzled by 
What was said before.
I love you 
With her glossy eyes 
I knew it was true, 
But horribly sly
You see these words
make me the fool.
The one that’s cruel
That a__hole dude,
That sparked the fuel
To this f__kin feud.
But I swear to God
I didn’t start this sh_t,
Why would I give up my love 
To live my life like in a pit.
 This is horrible sh_t 
Wasted days spent,
On nothing but the worst
I could be bathed in your sent. 
You could be laughing 
While I’m smiling
But Aunt Floe Won’t let this be,
And the only way to make this right
Is hold my tongue  a week.
And that ain’t gone happen 
I’m a person too,
Not soft
But I got feelins
and don’t know what  to do.
Now its been six days
Unbelievable  rage,
She locked herself 
In the room
I call it her cage.
I smell a sent in the air
It wasn’t there before,
Now lookin down the hall
I see an open door.
Is this a trap 
I’ll guess I’ll see,
If I fall for another
 You know that’s dumb ass me.
Curled in the bed 
I think I know that girl,
But where’s the hells Aunt Floe
The one that f__ked my world.
She packed up and gone
Didn’t even say good bye,
Just came wit gang of bullsh_t
And vanished in the sky.
Is that you my dear
Can you please come here,
Listen close and crystal clear…
I hate Aunt Floe
 Next time she here
Make sure I’m stocked
with weed and beer.
I love you punk.  ?

Copyright © Anthony Thomas | Year Posted 2011

Details | Concrete |


A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
after all.

Copyright © Miche Ulman | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Un-Mother / Heartless

I hate it, I hate it.
Everything that she does.

I hate her, I hate her.
There's nothing that she loves,
But herself.


And I see
Her different now.
There are faults that
Were never there.

Never supposed to
Be seen by me.
Meant to be hidden,
And just leave-be.


I hate it how she makes me mad
I feel I've given in.

I hate it how she thinks she's grand,
Always thinks she'll win.

I hate it how I fight her back.
I kick her down, she still attacks.


I feel the evil
When we fight.
I wish you'd leave,
Stay out tonight.

I don't want to
Be here any more.
MY whole body
Is achingly sore.

When we yell
It hurts my bones,
Like you've thrown
Some violent stones.

When we scream
My throat hurts,
Like you've thrown
Some cursing dirt.

When we fight,
It hurts my eyes.
You need to stop
These stupid lies.


~Written in 2003 (Friday, 7th, March) when I was fourteen.

Copyright © Madison Balmont | Year Posted 2009

Details | I do not know? |


Dear  mother  earth,i  came  but  now  ive  regret my  coming,   who  brought  me  
is  dead  and  gone  leaving  me  to  roam  causing  a  lot  of  crime  against  
I  do  know  the    dangers  ive  caused,  the  lives  ive  wrecked, the  future  ive  
destroyed,i'm  feeling  very bad  for  the  sorrows  am  inflicting  on  so  many  
people .
Dear  mother  earth  please  tell  your   kids  i'm  around  ,let  them  stop  taking  
risks  to  there   graves.
Mam   tell  the  young  ladies  that  are    carrying  me  that  there  is  moe to  life  
than  me.
To the   young  men  i  say  your  future  is   still   bright  and  sparkling  you  can  
still  make  impact  and  transform  others  that  may  want  to  think  i'm  not  
To  my   angels,the  kids,  just  ignore  me  and   think  of  what  you  will  become  
in  the  future  ,above  all  forgive  your  parents  ,its  not  there  fault  neither  mine  
but  those  that   brought  me.
To  the  single  parents  i  hate  taking  your  mother  or  father,husband  or  wife  
away  please forgive  me  and  always   cherish  their  memories.
To  the  orphans  i  cant  confront  you  to   say  sorry  ,please  mother  earth  beg  
for  mercy  for me  and  tell  them  i'm  terribly  sorry.
To  the  world  at  large  i  say  i  hate  being  around  causing  you  the  pains  i'm  
causing  you  at  present.
For  the  sake  of  humanity  and  especially  the  orphans  here  is  what  to  do  
to  get  rid  of  me,
Know  i'm  around,live  safe  in  all  aspect,and  for the  sake  of  humanity  here  
are  the  things  to  do  written  on  my  back.
"I  want  to go  back  please  help  me  to  go  back  i  know  i'm  not  welcome  
and  please  dont  welcome  me  .A-abstain  from  all  risky  practices
                                                             B-be  faithfull  to  yourself  and  others.
                                                             C-concious  use  of  condoms.
                                                             D-discipline  your  self  .
                                                             E-educate  yourself  and  others.
 Yours   sincerely  Hiv/Aids.

Copyright © patricia buckle | Year Posted 2006

Details | Dramatic Verse |

The Rain and Wind

The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.  
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

In Bed

                                      In Bed

                The central nervous heating system
pumping the womb
					floating free
				in seminal fluid
        sucking on the umblical chord

Curled in the bed 
          		in the Reichian curlicue	                     
          between clean silk sheets   
in the cosy cage
	away from the cold and the sleet’s scorching bone beat
             tumbling only when the flushing revolving door pulsates
         the thunder knocking to come crashing in
    the blood in the mother stream choking in the throttled rush

Who wants to be out
                                in the rain  in the shine 
      worrying about work  about degrees
                         no work   lack of opportunity
    of hurts through  making love
                         warding off pain  shame  and the retributing conscience
        of justifying every action   every little game
    of the mind  
              from our own standpoint
                                                                     by running everybody down
       even those who stand up for us
                                                         brother sister mother father
    backbiting in the sweating bed
                                                      in the haven   imagining triumphs glories rosy utopias
Who hates not some one                        
                                                          hates himself
       hates some  body  if not his maker
 at the thought of his plight
					    out the safe mother  oven	
        harrowing hate turning the dynamo of pretence
hypocrisy   basking in blind bigotted bile
         		hate stoking the intense rocket-thrust furnace
   consuming the guts
   everybody hates everybody
			the most intense force hidden in the pleats of the neuronal strata
		hates the entire world    all humanity
     the strongest human force generated by man		 
Who would want to be out
           before time
before we’re called upon to mind others we have put out
   of the womb 
        of the world
             of the safety of the dream bubble bed             
unless   if you call   we can say
                                                    go away   i’m in bed
   or hold on   just a sec
                                     come to bed   
                                                                        bed with me till the morrows never end
               or something like that
                                         and keep the terror of the slinging mind from plunging through the cul    
           de sac

        for yet a while longer                          

April 26, 1997 – Paris
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1997 ; revised from the cvollection : longhand notes (1999)

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.

When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,


until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,


Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.

(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quintain (English) |


The thought of you makes me feel choked
Speaking your name is like swallowing glass
If you were in my arms you would be blood soaked
The foul memories of you never pass

You did nothing good for me
Made me feel like i was rotting inside
I tore out my eyes cause you were all i could see
I wanted to kill you, so i tried

You filled my mind with corrupt thoughts
Forced me to say lies like "love you lots"
But my hate for you, you can never comprehend
I want to watch your pain never end

Why do you keep me here tormenting me
Cant you see what you did to me
Why do you act like you did nothing to make my heart sore
I hate you so what am i here for

You took away everything i ever cared for
I will hate you in my heart to the very core
I want to spill your guts on the floor
Because every day i hate you more and more!

Copyright © Nathan Fehr | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

I Hate

I hate the birth mark under my right eye
I hate my extremely static hair
I hate my big bottom lip
I hate my spotty nose

I hate that I have really *****y times
I hate that people only remember me for my really *****y times
I hate that the real *****es hate me
I hate being cautious so they don’t ***** about me

I hate that I cry over everything
I hate that people know I cry over everything
I hate that I hide from them anyway
I hate that they actually don’t care 

I hate the fact that my brother is leaving home next year
I hate the fact that I cried when he told me that
I hate the fact that I hid my tears from him
I hate the fact that he’s all I really have left

I hate my father for making me feel like he doesn’t care about me
I hate my mother for making me feel like she picked him over me
I hate that my brother had to look after me when they couldn’t be bothered
I hate that, in my eyes, they don’t deserve to be called mum and dad

I hate that when I was younger I had to run away from my father
I hate that my mother and brother left me by myself that day
I hate that they left me closer to my father
I hate that they went somewhere I would have felt safer

I hate that I feel like my friends are slowly fading away from me
I hate that I feel like I’m a third wheel
I hate that I feel like my friend’s don’t trust me
I hate that I feel like I can’t trust my friends

I hate the feeling of loneliness
I hate that I read books to escape to a world better than mine
I hate that I write to create a better life than my own
I hate that people want to invade that one heaven I invented

I hate that people ask me why I made Katy Clover Taylor
I hate that I had to make a role model for myself
I hate that she is the person I desperately want to be
I hate that she is the one thing I will never live up to

I hate that I feel like my grades would grasp my families attention
I hate that feeling of disappointment when I get a bad grade
I hate feeling like I have to live up to an expectation to hold their attention
I hate that I am relied on because of my grades

I hate that I am an older mind trapped in a younger body
I hate that I am limited in what I can do because of my age
I hate not being trusted upon
I hate people treating me as a kid

I hate not telling people how I feel
I hate hiding behind an invisible barrier
I hate not being able to share how I feel with people
I hate being scared that they won’t care.

I hate people judging me
I hate judging people
I hate that feeling of giving up
I hate the feeling of losing when I didn’t give up

I hate the choices I have made
I hate that nobody thinks I can live up to my dream
I hate people thinking they are so much better than me
I hate the fact that they are right

I hate that I will never make a good girlfriend
I hate the fact I know nobody would fall for me
I hate knowing that no one would help me pick up my life
I hate that it has fallen apart

I hate hurting the people I love
I hate them not loving me anymore
I hate knowing that what I would do would hurt people
I hate the fact I do it anyway

I hate knowing that I do all of this
I hate knowing I hate all of this
I hate trying to change it
I hate that I am not able to change it

I hate that I try not to give up hope
I hate knowing all hope is lost
I hate that I still try and cling to it anyway
I hate knowing I failed at that too

But most of all

I hate not being able to express this until now
I hate that this still won’t change a thing
I hate thinking that it still might
I hate knowing that no one cares

Copyright © Teenage Frustrations | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Mommy dearest

I hope you can understand my rhyme scheme and structure.  I wrote from the heart and created a funky style.  God bless

Stand up straight 
Tuck in your shirt
Lose the cheesy smile

Chin lifted
Spine aligned
Perfect, single file

Don't wear those clothes
Don't embarrass me
Jesus knows
You lack humility

Why can't you be like so and so
Where have you gone with your life
I didn't give you good genes to blow
You aren't the sharpest knife

Can't sleep
Constantly weep
Sadness I keep
You caused my depression 

If I kill myself
Put an urn on your shelf
Keep my wealth
Take blame for my suicidal session

You should be ashamed
You're to blame
Disgraced my name
Your too much "you" to bear

Now run along
Sing your song
Do it all wrong
See if mama cares

Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

because im the man

I'm the Man
my teeth are yellow
try not to bellow
My hair is nasty
I'm a little sassy
i think i'm trapped 
oops i just crapped
I love your mom
his name is tom
i love your sis
his name is chris
I like touching my legs
and eating scrambled eggs
i like taking naps
but i hate my grandpa paps
i'm going to bed 
but i want some bread 
so i hit it with my head
I don't need it anyway
I'm not going to stay
i'm moving to spain
I own a great dane
I'm going to go take a bath
because I got dirty in math
I'm sorry i just got bored
and i hit my arm with a cord
I'm just gonna throw myself in the trash can
Because i'm the man
I can't afford water because its free
so i drink glasses of tea
I've started to enjoy checking out dolphins
So i killed one and stuffed it in a coffin
Because i'm the Man

Copyright © Trash Boat | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |

Never hate your mother

Never hate your mother 
Pet her 
Hug her 
Hold her hands when 
She is old and cant walk
Remember you where once
Her baby 
So her care and love
Was your origin of growth

Never hate your mother
Respect her
Honour her
Adore her
She is a woman 
She is one of the author of creation
We all came from a mothers womb 
When we were babies 
She was our goddess 
When we were a child 
She was our gift of hope full filed 
God bless my mother 
I love you mama 
Happy new year

Copyright © richard nnoli | Year Posted 2017

Details | Alliteration |

Hate to Nurture

Have half to hang hand in hand
And harp the harmless hate
Then heap the hazardous haze of heartbreak 
And heave the ironic heroine 
Because the hollow horde that hovers over head 
Is now the narcissist on narcotics 
Creating nausea near the neglected one
While the network of nerves brings news 
Of the night nitrogen seemingly never-ending
So end the notorious nudge of nylon personality. 

Copyright © Gabrielle Wolcott | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Dear Mother

Dear mother,
Every time I see your face
My mind is weighed with hate
Every time you open your ignorant mouth
I just want to scream out loud

Keep your sorrow to yourself
I don't need to cloud my soul just to yell
Dear mother, don't you know your making your own hell
Better halt your drinking before you sound your own bell

Instead of nurturing me, you drown my spirit with rage
Trying to constantly nick at my spirits strength 
But I won't let in because I use my mind to think
Dear mother, your life is an endless cycle of life and death

You suck out my chi and your lifestyle wreaks
Every time I blink my eyes water from your alcoholic stench
My day was fine until you came in
You enrage me to the point of wanting to commiting a tremendous sin
Dear mother, you will not win

You rely on superstition to solve all your problems
Better stop before your thrown down to the bottom

Dear mother, you've never been a mother to me
Just please stop spreading your dark energy
 or just leave me be

Dear mother, I wrote this from my consciousness
So please take head of my wish

For the contest, Tales From The Dark Side, sponsor, Kelly Deschler

Copyright © Justin Worthy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |

The Face in the Mirror

It’s hard to wake up every morning and see a face in the mirror that so 
resembles the person that hurt you so deep.  
To see the face of that person that causes this 
internal battle you have to deal with everyday.  
The person who truly made you understand that there IS a thin line between 
love and hate.
It’s nearly impossible to look at myself without being overwhelmed with feelings 
of love and hate for her.  I hate her for what she did not only to me and our family, 
but to herself.  I hate her for throwing away so much potential because she 
needed something better.  I hate her because she made us feel like we weren’t 
And yet this battle rages because while a part of me hates her, 
a part of me will love her no matter what.  
I love her because she can always make me laugh.
  I love her because she always wants to fix everything. 
 I love her because of all the things she has taught me both directly and indirectly.
But still I love her most because no matter what she will always be a part of me.  
But I hate her because no matter what….
I will always be a part of her.
I look into the mirror everyday and see two faces: past and present, 
molded together to form one: mine. 
 And yet no matter how many times I tell myself it’s me in that mirror I can only 
see her. 
 My mother.

Copyright © Megan Viar | Year Posted 2006

Details | ABC |

Seeing for the first time

Today I saw her 
As if for the first time 
She had aged dramaticly 
Deep lines all over her face 
crippled and deformed she was now 
Barely clinging to life 
When once she was so beautiful 
So full of energy strength and perfectly 
Shape from head to toe 
I recall many complimenting her beauty 
I felt so proud
Yet now I felt a deep fearing pain in my heart 
Now I've  noticed how 
She looked tired and worn out 
As if she once fought many battles 
Yet won few  
Many scars she worn upon her skin deep and thick 
They were 
But not as many nor as deep as the ones
She wore unpon her heart
She had not always been good in her life 
Fallen to bad habits and bad decisions 
Selfish and cold hearted at one point 
I had spent many years angry at her and even 
Maybe a little hate 
But when I saw her today for the first time 
I heard criies so loud and it was my heart breaking 
I knew then I had always loved her 
And now in her old age sickened by her past choices 
Clinging to life 
yet knowing death peeks from around the corner 
I realized I shouldn't have wasted so much time 
Holding on to what cannot be changed 
I realized that precious moments will 
Never have another chance 
And I have lost them because of my own poor choices 
Now as I watch my mother slowly and painfully go 
I will be losing someone that is so dear to my heart 
That has shared more than half of my life
With me and there is no more time 
To show her how much I love her 
Now when I seen her for the first time 
I saw how precious she was to my heart 
I saw how much more I will be alone 
I saw one half of me being gone 
I saw just how much she meant.... 

Copyright © Carissa l Barriga | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dramatic Verse |

The Aftermath

You’re the only definite
that I’m unsure about.
I have mixed feelings
and you’re all in them,
the anger flows throughout.
So many traits
I perfected
being connected,
to you
for so long.
The suppression,
misguided anger,
the depression 
that could have killed me.
A damaging relationship,
but my love for you
won’t let me leave.
I’ll die slowly,
let this wound me,
you always aggrieve.
You say some things
I see red,
the countless times
we fought.
All the times
I stopped myself
from carrying out
those thoughts.
I’ll hurt myself
before I touch you,
and no one else
had better try.
Because despite
my feelings,
I always love you,
you’re the one
that gave me life.
I bite back
the hatred,
can’t always stop
the coldness,
but I don't really try.
Then you 
push my buttons,
we go back at it,
only pause to reload.
I try not 
to open myself,
can’t bear the depths
of my wrongs.
Can’t stand this thing
we’ve become.
How many times
do we have to cut,
to appreciate blood?
How many years
have to be muddled,
til we see the clearing?
You never take me
for my word,
but I love you
and I mean it.
Even when I left,
I still loved you.
No matter.
And if you leave me,
I’d never be alright,
because I love you,


And when I hate you,
I love you.
No matter.

So if you
ever read this,
just know
that I cried.
And that I wanted
to reach out,
But our past 
stopped me,
can’t swallow
this pride.

Copyright © Joy Nicole | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |

Mother To Son

No child, do not think I hate you
When I hit you with the rod.
Not that I am wilder than our wildest mothers
Or hate to see you play,pick or pluck
Sweet pleasure with your hands.
Do not admire those who do the drugs
And taking too much drink, take their own wits.
You cannot afford to be at a standstill
Like those who watch and wait 
For the wings of chance.

When all is harsh around and about
When your mates mark and make their way
You cannot afford to be at a standstill!
Go to school and make for yourself a man
Grow up, my little man and warm 
My heart with your wisdom.
Do not let your prime wander
And by wandering lose the way.
Seize the satchel while spring is green
For if you are shiftless or lazy,
Time shall fall frozen upon your face

Copyright © Jude Chukwuemeka | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |

Dr Jekyll Mrs Hyde

She kissed the bruises and wiped the pain away,
She is the reason I have no father today.
She was always there when I needed her I knew I could call,
I spent my life in prison, she convinced me to take the fall.
She tucked me in my bed, and read a story every night,
She laughed as my father bled to death that was a scary sight.
She was honest and caring and I loved her so,
She used this against me; told me my father had to go.
She was a real good planner; she was very smart too,
As she place the knife in my hand and told what I had to do.
She visits me each week and tells me things will be just fine,
The life support she lives on now allows her to wine and dine.
She tells me that she loves me, and she always will,
But I am the one sitting here in this prison still.
She writes me letters and puts money on my books,
She’s not coming back this time I can tell by her looks.
She is my mother and I love her this is true,
But I hate her deeply for things she tricked me to do.
Will I ever forgive her, only time will tell?
I have plenty of time to think about it, in my own personal hell.

Copyright © billy stelzer | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

The Rapture

Escaping from the patterns of my life
From crime and hate and inner strife
I visit a place that is pure and serene
Where i'm alone as a morning bird sings

I followed a path forged in stone
immersed in beauty, that nature owns
It is nature that owns the morning haze
That envelops the glory of this mystic maze

A labyrinth of answers to my dreams
this paradise is false,or so it seems
As the sun beamed its radiant light
i choose a place and did recite

I gasped at the trees and fertile soil
that inherit the flowers as my quill toiled
The flowers have blossomed this early spring
Akin to a babe, immaculate and pristine.

The scent of the air is not of smog and dirt
that blackens the white and decays the dirks
Yet that of a fragrant scent from the flowers 
that abides in memory to this very hour.

i heard patter from a creek a distance away
Gentle and calm it enraptured my stay
And to my eyes not a ripple shows
As i induced a wish then tossed a rose

Akin to a morrow, i saw my reflection
Hued in beauty of Mother Nature's protection
For all this beauty that envelops me
unfolds clearly for the world to see

And to the world like a perpetual fire
it flares and glows never to tire
prevailing past the wars hate and crime
the creek remains until the end of time
The morning bird wings again before me
Adieu Mother Nature I'll never defy thee
Yes! the bird of faith will lead the way
To some other secluded haven to  stay.

Copyright © anthony Pardi jr | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |


A stinging pain falls upon my face making my vision turn red. 
I look up into your eyes and see nothing but the rage and hate in your souls windows,
How could someone be so angry?
How can you go day to day knowing what you do?
I was kind, I was good.
But you made me like this.

	After Hit,
			After Hit,

Put me deeper,
		And deeper, 
				And deeper,

Into the dark where there was only a spark of hope left 
But that even started fading as you continued to throw you anger at me.
Was I the one who made you like this?
Me your ’one and only’
How could someone be so angry?
How can you go day to day knowing what you do?
I was brave, I was slipping.

		And fading,
				And fading,

Into a deep,

Darkness that made me lose my mind
You made me like this.
I can finally throw my anger at you.
How does it feel now mother?
You cry and ask me to stop, but did you ever listen?
Me your ‘one and only’
How could I be so angry?
How can I go day to day knowing what I do?



I can go day to day knowing that I made myself free,
Of all the hate you would throw at me.
Can you handle mine?

Copyright © Evan Nelson | Year Posted 2011