Best Adolescents Poems
Angels Above
A. W. Nutter
At fifteen, I was to young to become a father
At fourteen, she didn’t need to be a mother
We were old enough to have sexual relations
Unable to understand the implications
We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love
Parents abusing us for this sinful union
Adolescents fearful and full of confusion
Not able to cope with the adult pressure
The mothers young body goes into labor
We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love
My son struggled between life and death
I held his hand as he took his last breath
From my hands his little body was pried
The tears falling like rain from my eyes
We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love.
Occasionally the mother and my path will cross
Seldom do we mention or discuss our loss
But every year at nine, on the sixteenth of May
We both agreed, to light a candle and silently pray
To the angels watching from heaven above
Shower our son with mercy, show him your love
I am just a girl writing poetry (a woman) poetess like many and
it is sad how there are cliques that push their views
allmostlike . . . a gang with an influential alpha leader
the center of attention in words and words( infinity)
abashing the non-believers (those of a different opinion)
a narrow-minded few and haven for personswithmeanbraincells
I am no stranger to this pain(this childish devastation)
they have no respect for right or wrong or hurting
will bash anyone who stands alone . . .
the followers(like puppydogswaggingtails)follow mindlessly
oh gawd I don't like the clickclattercrackleclink of endless words
the cliqueycliquishcliquishly the inner circle of bullys
held together by a thread of theatrical banterlikebehavior
I know this behaviour(Iwas5yearsold)
see it is not just adolescents girls who enjoy cliquishness
a small group of few can form a crew agangofbashers
shameonyou . . .
but . . . I am proudstrong I am not in a clique
I am independent(yearsofbullying)has been my companion
so echoic cliques are useless againstthehighwall I have built
to protect my soul my spirit my poetry(yet you can still)
breakanalreadybrokenheart . . . shame on you and
thissweetkindgirlwoman has had enough
_____________________________
May 30, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/shameonyou
Copyright Protected, ID 05-678-445-30
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Women Only #2,
sponsor, Kelly Deschler, Judged 2015
Fourth Place
Poem of the Day, June 1, 2015
All were gone in the gust of wind.
Not yet fully grown up into a woman
She was to leave home for a man.
What type of rules are they that bind?
Young girls to quit family for another
And before time, be already a mother.
None ever bothered to know her mind.
Before she could understand her roles,
Confined she was to daily filling of bowls
And nursing babies, to which she resigned.
One day, he died, taking his own life.
Blame she carried of being a bad wife.
Their boy and girl he cruelly left behind.
In hardship for a living, she was hurled.
Hoping her angels would change her world,
Night and day, she toiled blind.
One day, she slept such a sleep deep;
Her lovely angels forever went to sleep
As if fate had kept bad luck all aligned;
For an accidental flame to give them a skelp.
She did not hear them crying for help
While they burnt alive in room confined!
28/08/16
Contest:Best Sad Poem EVER - Laura Loo (Placed 2nd)
Based on a real incident where two adolescents burned alive last week
on the first floor. The mother did hear them crying for help but too late.
(Partly fictional)
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
CERVICAL CANCER AWARENESS WEEK
24 – 30th January 2016
Cervical cancer … the silent killer
Every day in the UK eight women are diagnosed with cervical cancer
Sadly, 1000 women die each year
Adolescents are offered the HPV (Human papillomavirus) vaccine
but they STILL need to have regular smear tests
Smear tests don’t diagnose cancer but they can detect abnormal cell changes at an early stage, which may later develop into cancer if left untreated
In the UK a smear test is available every three years to women aged 25 - 49 and every five years to women aged 50 - 65… but many women do not attend
Okay, lets be frank…
It’s an invasive procedure
It’s not very pleasant to have done but it only takes 10 minutes of your time and it could save your life
https://www.jostrust.org.uk/smearforsmear/
Jan Allison
29th January 2016
Spenserian sonnet
To Trundle Beach we turn to find our fun
with fam'ly on vacation ev'ry June.
Relaxing, romping, ready for some sun,
we traipse the trails with youngsters before noon
then nestle down for babys' naptime croon.
We find the time for each of our four boys,
yet treasure time alone, a honeymoon.
It's tough adjusting to the constant noise.
When adolescents share their digi-toys
we feel our age; they show us how to text.
No way we can compete with cyber joys.
We've pondered year by year, "What can come next?"
When June has passed and gone, we beg for rest
with mixed emotions, we leave Trundle blessed.
April 2, 2012
Hush now three days yet to past.
My grandmother joy was fulfilled with laughter.
The Christmas spirit was upon us once again.
The tree is surrounded with presents and chorales sing door-to-door.
The occurrence of Christmas would be wonderful.
The cards and letters came in big sacks.
We as adolescents would sneak to read them by ourselves.
The love of Christmas was shown via our snow-mom.
We hung a scarf around her neck and wished her a Merry Christmas.
We knew the hush of Christmas past was upon us.
We sleep like teddy bears.
We wore our cotton pajamas to bed.
The warmth of the cabin was nice.
We were tuck away and told to have a good night.
Christmastide sparkled in our eyes.
Merry Christmas shouted our grandmother.
We bustled out to open our presents.
The curtains were open wide.
The snow was glistening white outside.
Shush of Yuletide was a thrill inside.
|________________________________________|
penned on december 06, 2014 @ 12:10 A.M. EST!
Solstice Burning
Distant footsteps trodding through a suburban graveyard.
The Black Dahlia reposes silently
pondering the moment with a carved grin.
A tan La Salle pulled up that morning
when she lost her heartbeat.
More distant footsteps in the hills of disease and disillusion.
Can you discern what has been and what will be?
Look to the east and see a face coming through the mist,
seeking a sword.
Are you not tired of all this?
Do you not seek death secretly?
Put the key in the ignition
the streets burn for our presence
like a naked lover spread under stained sheets at twilight.
More stiff corpses in the alleyways
wasted for the big party that has yet to begin.
What is life but one more glance downward
with tilted head and screaming thoughts.
Are you not ready for a change?
Do you not seek just one moment of peace?
Raging rapsters cry to the starry heights
looking for a taste of neon nirvana.
Adolescents in tight skirts
with button nipples bulging
seek desperate embraces in the shadows.
Solstice burning like a madman with dagger at midnight.
The cool tombs of eternity await the doleful dirge.
"Can you hear it, honey?"
"Put out the lights now."
The Black Dahlia needs her beauty sleep.
AS my chest gets pumped by the rescue team
I see my soul slowly hover over the scene
my life begins to flash I see me in my youth
stealing candy out the store in my Easter suit
I used to skip Sunday school and the bible lessons
but those vital lesson could have saved my adolescents
my mom stressing I was completely outrageous
my education wasn't between the text pages
was so impatient these streets fed what I was craving
It left mom weeping and waiting praying and pacing
with total dedication she would sacrifice
I'm out the back with hoodlums in the night
involved with all types of things that won't right
and moms used to gripe about what did each night
but Im in my zone
Im grown
as a matter of fact I'm gone
leaving mom up waiting for praying for her son to come home
A gang of outsiders
say they gonna reform the government,
with a bad boy at the helm
Juvenile adolescents,
at Constitutional reform school,
are gonna be running everything
Say what!
You heard it right ...
No he didn’t!
Yeah, bad boy started that tweet fight
Wrong characters on the keypad
reformatting the geopolitical template
Tear down global trade love,
build up more isolationist hate
Lord of the Flies now running everything,
oh what a pitiful sight
Draining the political swamp
takes a lot of integrity and oversight
Too bad this reform school
don’t hold ethic classes at night
Martin Luther wannabes
ain’t offering no Reformation guarantees
Donar class protest rallies
organized by corporate gangster hierarchy
Palace espionage intrigue —
Infiltrator spies, so sneaky
Say what!
You heard it right ...
No he didn’t!
Yeah, bad boy started another tweet fight
Inmates are now running the asylum,
reform looks like crazy change
The bad boy Joker with the maniacal smile
is tearing down the norms of society all the while
A gang of outsiders doing an inside job,
the treasury is being looted and robbed ...
so please don’t turn the satellite dial
Cover story is fake news scorn
Broadcast reform: say it proud, say it loud
Crazy is the new norm,
and profane is the acid rain
pouring from the reform cloud
It was rain, rain, raining
on the outsiders’ Inaugural parade
And it’s been raining ever since
Tracking reform muddy puddles
into the White House Oval room
Bad boy and his inept buddies
got a reform platform that spells doom
Say what!
You heard it right ...
No he didn’t!
Yeah, bad boy was tweet fighting again at night
Said he is a chaos agent,
but he ain’t yet got smart
Said sewer reform is nasty business:
you need bankrupt morals and an empty heart
Gutter reform is looking reaper grim,
hanging over the nation like a deadly pall
Deconstruct democracy on a whim,
take another liberty brick out of the wall
Piece by piece, bit by bit ...
until that Constitutional school crumble and fall
Gary, Indiana is the town where I grew up
Aftermath of gang battles designed our streets
Rage, rap, and rivalry were the three R’s that we learned at school
Yet, this was my hometown, the town where I grew up
In the town where I grew up
Non-violence was considered a thing of the past
Drug dealers and female callers assembled at each corner as men back when
gathered to march
In the town where I grew up
Adolescents were just first round picks for growing gangs
Neighborly love and peace was out of the question
Accidents and incidents were a regular occurrence in this town yet nevertheless this
was my town, the town where I grew up
Twirling around the glossy smooth floor
Racing with friends on roller-skates
Tossing my hair as I glide across the room
Feeling so certain that this is my destiny
Weaving through the crowd lithely, swiftly
Smiling at everyone, my heart filled with laughter
Lighting the entire room with the heartfelt joy
Discovered in this place where I owned elation
Bending and looping through the noisy rink
Listening to the tender voice of Bob Segar or
Possibly, AC/DC – Lynyrd Skynyrd or some
Other rock n’ roll group who teens revered
Whirling through the gathering of adolescents
My heart was filled with hope that I would find
The chosen one, the boy who I was sure of
A dream of mine, who read all those love stories
Twisting and turning to the sound of Meatloaf’s voice
My heart raced with delight when I saw him smiling
The one I knew would be for me, forever and always
Going down in history… nowadays, I kiss him each morning!
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
January 9, 2021
Video games control kids minds
In a lesser way than parents do
Definitely gives a channel for frustration
Extreme aggravation, or even humiliation
Or allows them to explore new world and improve reflexes
Games are just that, they're games
A parents job is to take control and if they don't agree with it
Make your kid play something else.
Especially when they're adolescents, they need
Structure. If parents don't provide it then we're all in trouble.
“Hair today, gone tomorrow is an old expression”
Another is “Never too late to make a first impression”
Old sayings you hear
While having a beer
With some buddies and acting like a bunch of adolescents
© Jack Ellison 2015
Just Another Average Christmas
Just another average Christmas, not especially good nor bad,
When everyone says dinner was the best they’ve ever had.
When Mother works her fingers off with no respite nor leisure,
But keeps her best face forward and pretends it’s all a pleasure.
Just another average Christmas, when kids reject their presents,
When parents wonder why they tolerate their adolescents.
When grandparents sit smugly, watching as their offspring suffer,
Reminding them that Christmas always used to be much tougher.
Just another average Christmas, a day when booze flows freely,
When those in party games would rather watch the telly, really.
When Granny loves her pot-plant, and Granddad loathes his socks,
And speculation reigns about what’s in that extra box.
Just another average Christmas, not especially bad nor good,
When everyone feels ill from forcing down the excess food.
When kids go play their X-Box games, whilst Dad pulls on his sweater,
And vainly hopes that next year’s Christmas Day will be much better.