Best Foster Poems
9/20/16
I am Caroline Foster.
I am fifteen-years-old.
I am shortish.
I am rather thin.
I am intelligent I guess.
I am oblivious.
I am weird.
I am childish.
I am different and not in a good way.
I am the girl who sits in the front of the class because I am expected to.
I am the young actress who can only find her voice through being someone else.
I am the nerd people only become friends with so I can do their homework.
I am an encyclopedia, Google, and a dictionary all rolled in one.
I am an outsider.
I am the one who will never be accepted because of my social awkwardness.
I am and will never be anything more than a textbook.
I am only a tool.
I am scarred from the knives I have cut into my own wrists.
I am depression, a dark room with the light switch torn out.
I am anxiety that screams with deafening volume just to keep me chained to the ground.
I am the one who’s supposed to know all the answers.
I am expected to be a perfect little robot who should never step out of line.
I am afraid to accept myself for who I am because of fear of the judgement and rejection of others.
I am the girl who is taken advantage of because they know I’m too scared to say “no.”
I am terrified of failure and not meeting the highest of standards.
I am hideous.
I am disgusting.
I am so ugly that to attract a guy I have to hide behind pounds of makeup.
I am sick and tired of being labeled by my skin, religion, GPA, cup size, and my face.
I am done hiding in the shadows and letting the opinions of others control me.
I am waiting every day for it to be my last just so I can get away from all the hate.
I am suicide ready to happen.
But, I am beautiful.
But, I am unique.
But, I am still that wide-eyed dreamer who just wants to write.
But, I am a writer of stories that could change the life of one.
But, I am not what others think of me
I am not just another face among billions of others.
I am chosen.
I am a daughter of God.
I am here for a reason.
I am me and still discovering what being me means.
And I am okay with that.
I am telling you to rip off the history and stereotypes that you have been forced to lug around for so long.
I am showing that no matter who you are, there is still light at the end of the tunnel.
I am Caroline Foster.
Who are you?
I came into your lives a lost and lonely child,
Full of anger and resentment,
Overwhelmed with fear and confusion.
Yet you took me into your home, your lives, and your hearts.
From the very beginning you tried to make me feel welcome and wanted.
Though I fought you each step of the way you never gave up on me.
Instead you patiently and lovingly took me under your wings,
protecting, guiding and shaping me.
Showing me love and understanding.
Giving freely and openly the praise and affection I so desperately needed.
All the while expecting nothing in return.
As days turned into years you were still there
Making me feel safe and secure,
treating me with respect and fairness,
pushing me to be the best I could be.
And still, there I was fighting you.
Oh, the pain and heartaches you endured at my hands.
Yet there you stood, firm and unwavering.
Never walking away, never giving up.
Always loving me no matter what the cost.
All these years later as I look at my own children
I realize just what you saw and still see when you look at me.
Your Daughter!
I love you.
When a child's placed in foster care,
it gets shuffled from heart to heart.
And a link in the chain of love,
goodbyes precede every new start.
Hopeful eyes explore each fresh face,
wanting to experience norms.
Yet intolerance and half-truths,
often spawn emotional storms.
Love’s only an empty promise,
whispered by a slick silver tongue.
And it's a word best forgotten,
meaningless to a heart so young.
They are shackled to hope and fear,
feelings felt from an early age.
And they start questioning their fate,
succumbing to their inner rage.
They've become undesirable,
discarded souls of a yesterday.
For these children are considered
troublesome and sent on their way
Mommy is a neighborhood feline stray.
She has two 5 week old kittens. I feed them all everyday.
Mommy had more to her litter, but a roaming male stray
slaughtered most of them, but these two miraculously escaped.
Believing that she had lost all of her offspring,
Mommy immediately went into heat again
and was impregnated by her roaming male companion
who moments earlier had killed most of her children.
Her maternal instinct is now geared towards her unborn offspring.
As for her two surviving kittens? She has abandoned them.
These poor kittens will not survive and most likely die suffering,
but not on my watch. I'm rescuing them.
It is we who decided to domesticate them.
We made them and so in essence, they are our children
and we should all share our responsibility
for making the lives of our children just a little more easy.
*
Soon there will be two more additions to my foster family.
This added responsibility I do not need,
but I do so out of love unconditionally.
*
You were told not to lie.
Told if you did,
You would die.
But don't pay attention.
They didn't know how to you in the right direction.
Always high,
Always pushing you aside.
That's why your here,
Here with these other boys.
In this place you called home.
But this man wants to take you,
To give you some place new.
Your too old for toys,
But he will treat you right.
So please don't try to fight.
He wants to raise you better,
And he has a wife,
You've already met her.
So take care when you leave...
Please?
It wasn’t that she was the only woman
in the group, that mingled precariously
beneath the bronze figure, or her classic
stance, when placing immaculately the
newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly
breached, but more her opulent style, her
contrast of attire, her hair as yet unspoilt.
Although jewel less except for a wedding
ring in her recently pierce blood stained ear
lobe, (this bearing signs of some street wise ritual?)
she still wore a suave sophistication, eyes
that bred a wanton life, fingers more use to
the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than
the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of
the common brown. But alas maybe the
corrosion has not as yet penetrated her
foreboding mind, a mind that in time will
be given to surrender, never to realize that
this volatile life will plunge her deeper, into
one shambolic life, whilst still trying to escape
from the previous. But! Who knows what ills she
was force to bear, what tribulations life brought
upon her, maybe her new found acquaintance
comfort her, listen to her sympathetically,
understanding her predicament, also a novelty
this sharing, this caring, respect and reverence
showered upon her, like solicitous petals
falling gracefully upon her shoulders,
removing the burdens of a lifetime.
Her head
began to lift higher and higher with every
mouthful of distant courage, every courteous act.
Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle was
released from her reluctant deep red lips, a
senseless shake only proved her greatest fear.
Immediately to her aid, came one of her new found
companions, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge,
he commence to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit,
with his mucus soiled cuff less sleeve, before
passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly
awaiting its return.
One can imagine when the long day
is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley bench will be hers, only the best that fleet street can offer, will cover her chilled body, her metabolism soon accelerating, to become one with theirs, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will all options for her diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction almost completed!
© Harry J Horsman 1991
My view of this life
is empty and alone
no place of warmness
no permanent home.
New families
always a new mom and dad
living in fear
thinking of what i had.
Its all gone now
my friends, my life
living with this heartache
living with this strife.
I want to go home.
Johnny Foster in my Heart
We were childhood sweethearts
And we were in our own little heaven
Back so many years ago
When I was six and he was seven
We had so many plans
Sworn lovers for all time
But Johnny Foster moved away
When I was seven and he was nine
We lost touch for so many years
But we were still so much in love
And he found me not long ago
A real blessing from above
We married and settled down
And we led a life of bliss
It didn’t seem to matter anymore
About all the years we missed
We laughed and loved and lived
More so than most people do
Because we had true love
Something possessed by few
My time with Johnny Foster
Can only be called the best
My memories are a treasure trove
As we laid him down to rest
I will carry Johnny Foster
Forever in my heart
Someday we will meet again
And we never again shall part
Connie Moore
Dec 5, 2013
your so beautiful
you make me smile.
you make my living life
Worthwhile.
your always there when i need you
always there when i cried.
was always there to repair my heart
when a part of me died.
The foster father and guardian is St. Joseph
The husband of Blessed Virgin Mary
The natures of our Lord Jesus Christ are True God and
True Man
11282011
I am in foster care
It's like i was assign to a dare
being in foster care is not fair
i am always left out and i cry not doubt
people laugh at me and now i am starting to see
that being in foster care just was not ment to be
i pack my bags
i hit the road
while carrying a big load
but then i realize they would be sad
so i go back and find out there not mad
they say they love me but do as you will
so i think to myself should i go over that hill
i tell them i will stay
then come what may
as i sit at the bay
i start to say
they love me so much why give it all away
so now i am here to stay
my foster family and me
and now i see that it was ment to be
It has been built beyond the last frontier
on salty marshland and on tidal streams
on visionary plans, on hopes and dreams
Here comes to rest the restless pioneer
The waves and wind inhabitants don’t fear
because the levee like a fortress seems
Although the water may rise to extremes
the stronghold by the bay will persevere
The city has the water in its veins
It flows for fish and man, past work and rest
In the Lagoon ends every waterway
And when it is the season for the rains
this landlocked sea is at is very best
and leads redundant water to the bay
Kids bouncing around shifted from home to home
Longing to fit in and have a place to call their own
Often filled with so many insecurities they don't know the feeling of real stability
They long to love and be loved but somewhere they got lost and have difficulty to find that ability
You're the ones they end up taking all their anger and resentment out on
Some are too young to comprehend why or how the life they once knew is gone
All they really know are the things they've been taught
People are unaware of the secret battles they've fought
They often act out and get into trouble seeking any kind of attention
Alot of them have never known unconditional love and affection
More often then not they blame themselves because they told the truth but were trained to lie
They beat themselves up over it every night as they lay in bed and cry
Some had beautiful lives but tragedy struck and somehow their family died
They had no one left and were separated from their siblings who survived
They're afraid to get to close to anyone thinking of the loved ones they miss the most
It's hard for them to let anyone in as you feel like you're fighting with their ghost
They were forced to grow up fast as their previous life was so demanding
They need a friend,alot of patience, love,support,and understanding
Don't abandon them all over again being so quick to give up and walk away
What they need more then anything is a caring loving home in which someone makes a true difference to change their life for the better and stay
Johnny Foster
Childhood sweetheart
Johnny Foster there you are
In the very next room
We once planned I’d be your bride
And you would be my Groom
So many years ago
Our childhood days were good
I often wondered how it would be
Or if I even should
Now Johnny Foster waits
Just in yonder room
We never ever got the chance
For him to be my groom
My shaking hand turns the knob
And I see him standing there
His handsome face lined with age
My how he is still so fair
I can see he feels the same
Our childhood love still strong
Johnny Foster still loves me
Now I know where I belong.
Now I’m a bride and he’s a groom
Our new life will be like heaven
Just like the day we planned it
When I was six and he was seven.
Connie Moore
Foster children move from place to place,
with memories that walk the night alone.
Nor is the love their's that they must embrace,
Yet most survive with a paculiar grace.
Even though their hearts turn to stone
as they move from place to place,
Perhaps within themselves, they find a space,
To furnish as they would a mobile home.
Finding scraps of things they can embrace,
A memory like some much fingered-lace.
Thoughts and reams that only they've known,
Moving as they do from place to place.
Their chilohood impossible to trace,
In the years of yearning after they've grown,
Filled with love they've chosen to embrace,
yet with their losses etched upon their face,
Pain for which no penance can atone.
How can they move and move frome place to place,
Surrendering their love they must embrace?