Best Child Abuse Poems
Her trembling twilight
dims with streaking purple tears
bruised by youthful years of bleeding pain
hurting but never hugged—
locked in arms of atmosphere’s apathy
that smeared with fiendish fingers
a contusing plum palette
across any hope in her godforsaken horizon—
this sorrowful songbird
who sings with the shattered purity
of violin strains falling from Heaven
finds her bemoaning musical notes adrift—
lost on breezy deaf days
as she is once again thrown down
from the self-serving skyscape
by the hateful hands of wildcat winds.
In the deep inkwell
of lullaby-less lonely nights
where never a tender nursery rhyme
has ever set her free
are memories scribed of storm-battered days
and weighing heavily on Libra’s scales
are the injustices
of dreams she will never live
nor flights of fancy she will never take
as her sire of solar scorch and temper flare
—a warpath warrior against her springtime
sleeps soundly on a bloated bed
over-stuffed with betrayal and broken promises
while her merciless maternal moon—
distant and cloud covered
does not bother to wander the coal haze
with a lantern’s sharp beam
to cut through stranglehold-folds of darkness
to cast a light upon; to rescue her fractured form—
an angel beckons as breath and beat fade
her guardian as she passes through Earth's shadow
beyond the coldness of mother-moon's umbra
following to where warm sugar-stars soprano sing.
Tonight— a stricken sparrow
folds her fledgling wings never to fly again…
will land or air ever miss her?
I know its hard to imagine now
But some day you’ll be the key and not the lock
The exception not the rule
Some day you’ll be a source of strength to others
Even though today you feel so weak
You’ll be a voice amongst the starlight
And they will listen when you speak
I know it's hard to imagine now
When you’re feeling broken & so small
But one day you’ll be a mountain
And your pain will be worth it all
~ Louise Simpson
You're worthy of love
I see the scars, you're hiding deep within
they're not visible, upon your skin
you don't even know, how you could begin
to feel worthy of love...
You've been floating away, in time and space
your pain is written, all over your face
your dignity left you, without a trace
and you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 1
I've seen so many people, just like you
they never seem to make a fuss
the only colors you know, are black and blue
and now it's hard for you to trust
The only friends you had, have long since died
you couldn't save them all, even if you tried
now you bottle up all, your feelings inside
you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 2
I know to you living, is not worthwhile
but I can prove that you're wrong
I know it hurts to even try to smile
cause you forgot where you belong
Some may say, that you're a little high strung
you've shed too many tears, for someone so young
don't you know that you're life has just begun
and that you're worthy of love...
oh yes you're worthy of love
you are so worthy of love
You've forgotten that, you too have worth
you're the only you, on this planet earth
just ask the loving ones, who caused your birth
they'll say...you're worthy of love
indeed you're worthy of love
welcome home my dear!
you are so worthy of love!
April 21,2017
John Derek Hamilton
Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me between your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
Blood of beggars, blood of kings
Lost forever, never found
Roar your cry across the land
Where the road once walked and wound
Stranded in mountains of sand
Clamp your claws around my waist
‘till my harness groans and falls
You will hold my torso raised
You, impenetrable wall
No giant strong enough to win
Or to grab us from the sky
No demon vile, no sinner's skin
No Cyclops to burn us with his eye
Fly my Harpy, take our dreams
Kill the bad, the hurt, the sad
Cherish fragile shining beams
Screech seductively and glad
Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me, my love, your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
You and me are blood of kings
***
March 23, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Between Your Words
Dad
I tried my best
to live between your cruel words
Yet there was no room
I felt less
smaller than small
Like a comma that didn't fit
a period in the wrong place
a question not deserving an answer
I wonder
Now that you are gone
Who's words had you borrowed?
Did the pain you gave me
come from another's broken heart?
Was it too much to bear?
I now have room at the end of your sentences.
Not forced within the confines of your spaces
No longer force fed the pearls of your wisdom
You have not had the last word
I am not doomed to your hypothesis
I'm willing to dance on the edge of possible
My cliff is of note
worthy of jumping from
For I am not Icarus
I have no reason to fear the sun
Only your ice will melt from my wings
I do not wish to relive your convoluted nightmare
The drifting of your mind
Those barriers to my existence
Freedom at last!
Yes freedom at the end of your sentences.
Dedicated to anyone who has been caught between words.
Watery eyed thoughts came,
Zap! Pow! a short circuited brain.
Inward turned burned ocular pain,
too many thoughts to restrain
I’m a cheap sheep making my mistakes again.
Smell my seared wool going down the drain.
Ba, ba, blackishly wishing I was right as rain.
Words accessed by my fingertips
help to quicken my sheepish heartbeat
Yet I bang on my keyboard, DELETE, DELETE!
Ripping out digital scores, sheet by sheet.
Never once listening to what other sheep bleat.
Instead I feel my brain draining
as my barnyard thoughts are straining
I can’t translate what they’re saying.
It sounds to much like blah blah complaining.
I’m watching you fake shepherd boy,
black sheep never sleep
into the darkness we’re destined to creep.
Sad sadistic secrets you’ve burdened us to keep
So we push our charred thoughts way down deep,
as we travel paths dangerous and steep.
Within the silence of the lambs,
you devilishly relish hearing us weep.
While I admire fleece as white as snow.
I’m not inclined to go where those sheep go.
Their path leads to your fictional rainbow.
They’re not safe just because they travel slow.
The True Shepherd wouldn’t lead them to and fro
I listen to my uneasy queazy feeling
and exit your proverbial row.
I wish I could stop them too
but, ba ba ba, to the slaughter they go.
For Wow Me Poetry Contest entered August 26, 2019.
Written August 21, 2019
Re-entered in John Hamilton’s N/A contest
nobody sees you the way I do
in your wheelchair
with your unopenable arms
where everything crashes to a gray twisted landscape
my brother
alpha male
of demon strut clashes
in our shared childhood
once you flipped your hockey stick between my thin legs
to see how many stairs I'd tumble down
your yells to me to "toughen up"
cursing a younger brother
"bookworm sissy"
"vanilla boy"
to expletives that ran like tap water
when proximity was a contact sport
at the care home
to your lips
I spoon in pudding
its dull tranquility
vanilla
into a body that feels itself liquid, limbs pliable and porous
I'd like to re-touch our brotherly photos
to change them to accuracy
or crumple them like a wasp nest knocked to the ground
for nobody sees you the way I do
for nobody knows you the way I do
"My Life as Poetry"
When the Lotus Eaters at Loon Junction barked
I ignored their confused chicanery
closed the gates behind me
I dropped one tear
in your sedentary ocean
it contained a lifetime
the salt was wasted
on your dead sea
and I used it to flavour
my life as poetry
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
gvlm
klb, mlb
(the others don't matter)
"When I Grow Up" / Fever Ray
https://youtu.be/4F-CpE73o2M
"When I grow up
I want to be a forester
Run through the moss on high heels
That's what I'll do
Throwing out a boomerang
Waiting for it to come back to me...
I put my soul into what I do"
LYRICS - "When I Grow Up"/ Fever Ray
https://genius.com/Fever-ray-when-i-grow-up-lyrics
Merry Impeachness
Justice delayed however symbolic
the orangutan finally won his award
for corruption and dereliction of duties
the constitution used to apply to all
IMPEACH
the orange leach
Lucifer has more morality
Peeing hookers to that will clarify
Concentration camps built
doctors denied free treatment of children
separated from mothers
Anne frank turns over in her grave
Title of Nobility
emoluments and fraud
foreign powers now own
the ivory tower
His followers
mow over Mexicans
ah but that's not hate
ignorance owns no book
Goebbels wrote fine prose
propaganda of the rose
sweet words hide not the smell
of bigots in their swamp of animosity
Defending the lady of liberty
is a kindness
defending the abused and weak
is a kindness
Hate wrapped in air freshener
an old German trick
calling men of justice, haters
most have seen this movie flick
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
In youth the Eden where you played
was left bereft, destroyed, decayed,
by trusts malignant masquerade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
No grass survives your fallow glade,
when opportunist needs invade
and bleed the lives from every blade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
First, victims surging song is brayed
but dirges of the wronged soon fade
and urges pant their serenade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Agendas you arrange cascade
to keep your motives undisplayed
and cover cracks in your charade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
You planted with your soiled spade
these spoiled seeds in hopes that they'd
advance the rancid plots you'd laid
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
In kind, your ruined past replayed
will find each bloom on whom you've preyed
entombed in blighted beds you've made
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
They always tell you, you are strong,
Time and again.
While you know they are dead wrong,
Through your pain.
You never had a decent choice,
Had to disappear.
No free will, no life, no voice,
Just hurt and fear.
You never knew the tiger in you,
He slept too long.
Until he roared you had no clue
You became so strong.
***
With searing rage you flee the cage,
You free your mind,
And let despair turn into rage,
And then you find
There is a world outside that hell
For you to roam.
Turn into stories you can tell,
You can go home.
They used to tell you, you are strong,
Time and again.
And now you know they were not wrong...
You beat your pain.
***
January 28, 2017
© Darren White
You’ve come from cold
Hushed words not told
Don’t say those things
The shame it brings
Don’t be so bold
Just let it mold
Deep in your soul
You dig a hole
Hide all your fear
No tears my dear
Wear your good cheer
No one will hear
You cry at night
When out of sight
You’re hard as steel
Your heart can’t feel
In light of day
No one can say
That you are weak
Your tears won’t leak
That day you find
One who is kind
Who feels your cry
In your mere sigh
A word of love
Soft as a dove
Safe in his arms
Steeled from all harms
Out pours the pain
Hard as spring rain
Tears must be wept
Hurt can’t be kept
________________________
January 31, 2018
Written for: 128 Word Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
[Checked in www.howmanysyllables.com]
I was three the first time i remember
seeing mamas bedroom walls
springtime colors on her quilt
Though it really could of been December
I don't remember much at all
I have to thank god for that
except for his soft footsteps down the hall
not Gods cause he was still asleep
I didn't know enough to be afraid, YET
He came in the room, that's when I still loved him
then I was on the bed, daddy loves you
daddy saying shh shh, don't talk
we're hiding from mama, I giggled
and then the pain, stop it shaunda, be quiet
be a quiet girl and I'll give you a dime
I didn't like it one bit or the sounds either
I turned my head and saw mamas messy shoes in her closet
I loved mamas shoes and I always put them in a row
in her closet nice and neat
she always gave me a nickel and said very good Shaunda
that's when I still loved her
and she still loved me
I watched the shoes through the pain thinking
when daddies done I'm gonna straighten those shoes
all in a row so mama will give me a nickel
and why do dimes hurt so bad
All this running through my head laying on her bed
while the sounds and the pain intermingle
in my body and mind while wondering
why Karrie gets to go to school
and why oh why can't I be five too
Ahh. The joy of childhood memories uncensored
May God bless all, of the children,
and ease their mortal pain.
I trust that you have your reasons,
and this life has not been in vain.
They say that our life is a gift,
could that really be true for all?
What about incest and rape,
or the fuel driven rage of alcohol?
Many children will live their young lives,
without a hug or even a kiss.
Most of us won’t even notice,
I guess ignorance must be bliss.
Instead of passing swift judgement,
or picking up and throwing those stones.
Maybe reach out and help a child,
before the bruises and broken bones.
From a mouthful of this morning’s eggs,
I pull bits of char from yesterday’s breakfast.
‘I had no chance to scrub the pan’, I plea with myself-
But I still smash it over my skull
like a cartoon.
Every morning I wake up
feeling last night’s feelings,
thinking last night’s thoughts,
about what’s happening 10 years ago,
and what happened tomorrow.
If you add up every
simultaneous
suffocating
moment
I fight through-
just to say:
‘i love you’
It would stretch for longer than I’ve known you,
which is longer than I’ve been alive.
There was no ‘today’ in my broken egg.
No difference between coming or going,
to an automaton in purgatory
who saw life through the pinhole eyes
of a cardboard mask won at a birthday party
I never asked for.
The sky looked like the ceiling of a small, dark closet.
and flowers looked like plastic bargain bin decor
coated in lead paint, the kind left on roadside graves.
I used to count those as a child,
on the way to destinations
I still dread my arrival to.
If I were brave enough to show you my awe and my terror
of loving the one who revealed
the world as something real, all this time-
I would sink face down in dirty bathwater
choking on wet, laughing sobs
until my fingerprints wrinkled away
and tear at my clammy skin
until my soft nails bent backward
and paint red bruises all over my trembling body
that would spell out a primitive language
neither of us had the chance to learn.
This is my best guess:
‘i am just a bad thing that happened
a book of false memories and blind feelings.
You are a very fast reader,
You’ll soon reach the end of me.’
I remember drawing a map in crayon
of every ditch I saw myself lying in
strange, unnatural positions.
Like I'd been struck by a car,
and someone shoved my body away
so I wouldn’t mess up the next one.