Best Survivor Poems
Is it easy to look back on the trauma of past
It’s like taking the knife out my back
It cuts going both ways creating path
Oh but we cried oh but we laughed
Little girls playing with dolls in the basement
Unaware of monsters and dangers that cement
The innocence taken and breaking me within
He was in his teens I was about 6 and again
I thought like a child of his suggestion to play
Never did occur to me to be cautious afraid
Never had I heard of the red word rape
And if I did the meaning would escape
Gender roles were set in stone you know
He was the man of the house we played so
I was the wife he could strike or hold
Oh I didn’t know I didn’t know I didn’t know
That he was taking advantage of me
That I was not to blame and I did bleed
He put his thang deep inside of me
But this pain was not my destiny
Looking back in the cracked mirror of past
I’d learn to live despite terrible looking glass
What good can come from rape of a child
Poetry and music and a furious curious smile
It happened that I may break the curse
Write about it and create healing words
For others who experience similar pain
My haunted trauma would become healing rain
Couldn’t understand then the why me
If not you then who dear should it be
You were a gift broken into pieces
But like Tiffany glass art unique and
Blessed to have such a fierce strength
That you can relive it again with pen
Painting a portrait of passion and grace
Not breaking like porcelain stronger in faith
Looking back now I believe it destiny
To make me sensitive and set me free
From the usual childhood of fantasy
I’m a survivor teaching rape 101 to Queens
Lone survivor
July 3, 2015
~+~
I sit alone in my basement all hunkered down
My faithful dog with me
Because tonight is the night of firecrackers
And firework, yep it’s the 4th of July.
*
My dog gets to wear a rap around cover
I get just my basement,
You see I am a lone survivor just like my dad
He from world war 2 me Vietnam.
*
My platoon was on patrol when we saw some
Kids playing baseball it was on the 4th of July
So we asked kids if they wanted to play us
Sure thing, as we were playing an enemy.
*
Patrol had seen us and hit us as we were playing baseball,
I got hit in the leg and fell down my buddy was hit
In the head and killed he fell over me
I played dead as they check us over.
*
It took me three days to crawl back to base
All platoon was wiped out but me.
So on this 4th of July like others
I will hate and hunker down as the damn firecrackers
And fireworks go off…
Lying in my bed one night ,
I hear the quiet,
It does not feel at all right,
Something is about to take place,
In this disunited human race,
And then, the world that I knew,
Its comforts, my family, my dog,
My little pet frog,
My bicycle that took me
To school, No longer exist,
My arm is bleeding,
My heads’ spinning,
The noise, the blasts,
Impending
Bombs exploding,
Amongst all this chaos
I manage to find shelter near
What was my home,
An old photo of my parents
Floats up towards the sky,
Then down past me
Lands in front of
Something or someone strange
Who looks identical to me,
Am I dreaming,
This feels surreal.
A being extends their hand
To me without hesitation,
I am bewildered,
Petrified
Beyond imagination,
In sheer desperation, I accept,
Expecting the unimaginable,
The unfathomable,
A fog appears surrounding
Me as if it were a blanket,
I no longer feel like the target,
This being is gentle and kind
Our hands still entwined,
I am led up some stairs,
I turn around to see
The devastation,
The world behind me
Is an abomination,
Endless desecration,
I have nowhere to hide,
Don’t want to be left behind,
I enter a space where I
See familiar faces, my best friend,
My brother, my teacher,
My preacher,
The being tells me to not be afraid,
We are all on a crusade,
There are other familiar faces,
People I have met
During my lifetime on Earth
Selected¸
Destined,
To be reunited,
In a Universe
Of aeons far away
Where we would awake
Up one day,
On the banks of a watershed
Where we would tread
A new era, a greener place,
A new beginning
Where hopes would
Be brimming,
I felt humbled
I was to be a pioneer
An unknown spec of sand,
Among some
Of humanity who would
Begin a new world,
Part of a new universe
A parallel to the one destroyed
Whose population was no
Longer techno driven,
No hate or crime,
Just time,
Where you and I, would learn to
Survive all over again,
At a much slower pace,
Nothing anymore feels surreal
It is a new era dawning,
Along with a sense of belonging.
Those who have hurt me the most
Brought me the deepest
Most affecting and lingering pain
Have all died away
As their own pain is buried
So does mine fade.
That must make me
Their survivor.
17.08.29
Composed for Julie Rodeheaver's
"I'm A Survivor" Contest
Our family heartbroken when my father died
Looking back don't know how we survived
Must be an invisible hand that was our guide
Staying with strangers I swallowed my pride
Living at mercy of those who could provide
Looking back don't know how we survived
Dreaming of college quite starry eyed
Yearning to succeed as my mother advised
Living at mercy of those who could provide
A long time our family collectively cried
The essence of survival took us on a ride
Yearning to succeed as my mother advised
Endurance won over putting hurdles aside
Took years but we made it to the other side
The essence of survival took us on a ride
Don't wish on anyone such unwanted slide
Our family heartbroken when my father died
Took years but we made it to the other side
Must be an invisible hand that was our guide
August 28, 2017
Placed 2nd: I'm a Survivor
Sponsor: Julie Rodeheaver
You are one cruel hearted man.
One too many for my life span.
You have inflicted one too many abuses.
I am so tired of your lousy excuses!
Whether it be with your mouth, fist, or actions
You found ways to punish for imagined infractions.
It sickens me that I did not leave as soon
As I realized that you always sing the same tune.
You claim that I don't love you enough.
I am not falling for that bit of fluff.
The truth is, it is you that doesn't know how to love
Go on you know this is true what I speak of.
Wrapping your hands around my neck to choke
Because you did not like what I had spoke.
You giving me a black eye
Because you assume what I say is a lie.
Some one says a victim that makes me.
Well I guess we shall see.
I no longer want to be thought of as that.
Survivor...yes I have that down pat.
I survived your endless abuses.
I survived all those bruises.
Victim...me....HELL NO!!!
SURVIVOR that is me. Way to go.
Imagine one day everything's fine
Next day you're in a psychward with a completely differen't mind
No one looks at you the same, not worth anyones time
Imagine going from happy and full of life
To trying not to end it, every single night.
Imagine what it's like to forget who you are
an 8 hour high, a life time of scars.
Self hatred, on a whole new level
Never smiling, never settled.
cold heart, twisted mind, that's just the start.
I pray for the day the reaper makes his mark.
The closest thing to happiness I've felt in years
is when I fantasize about death, letting go of my fears.
But I will not bow down, to a substance I hate
and I definitely know this is not my fate.
one day I'll be happy and I'll make sure of that.
I am a somebody, I will come back.
In my time of misery, spent it all by myself
say I'm too far gone, but I'm from the highest shelf.
I'm a survivor, say what you want.
If these haters, spent a day in my head
I'd give them an hour, most likely dead.
Survivor guilt, is it in the head?
It feels like its you that should be dead
Alas my friend this isn't so
This feeling needs to get up and go
For it will bring you to your knees
No one can hear you shout please
Go away survivor guilt
The life they need should be rebuilt
I know you are a demon in the brain
Bringing people all this pain
Lack of sleep is what you deprive
Let them move on with thier lives
Survivors are what they have become
Your nothing but banging of a steel drum
Leave thier soles to be content
Happiness is what is meant
So good bye guilt and sorrow
A new life begins tomorrow
Yes I know they've lost good people
But they'll meet again at the steeple
Born to early
Left with a permanent reminder
Difficult arrival into this world
Such a tiny tiny survivor!
You’re life has its battles
Though you never complain
Even when life is cruelly unfair
Treating you “not the same”
Tiny tiny survivor
You fought so hard to stay
The sweetest miracle
Perfect in every way!
I read, like an open book
All others can see the words written on my pages.
I contain tales, read as secretive,
A hushed whisper that only a handful have seen.
But how many times has this book been checked out?
A sea of white masks, deadpan through the years
So cherished once, now faded, emotionless.
Forgotten both to me, and I to them.
My secrets are secrets no more -
I own my past, without connecting to it.
I am an open book, because who has to connect with a story?
People can project on a tale,
As what better to have in a confidant,
Than a horror story?
Something you can read from the comfort of your bed,
A scary, scarred stream of words that seem otherworldly.
Frankenstein’s monster will never be faced -
So, too, is this failures’ life.
You understand, you say.
You sympathise, you say.
But how can you, when I checked myself out long ago.
SURVIVOR
She was smaller, slower, weaker
easily unseen
as she slipped away
seeking the warmth
of an exhaust grate.
Innocence lost
she slept
fitfully muttering
lost words
……………………………….forbidden words.
She awoke
to an empty station
a trembling silence
muting the sound
of a distant train.
She raised a numbered hand
waving goodbye.
She had missed
the last train
………………………………..to Auschwitz.
©4/12/2021
Last Train To Auschwitz Poetry Contest
Kai Michael Neumann sponsor
After about three days
I realized that I felt better
And I was terrified
Because that just means
That I have successfully turned up the volume
In my headphones so loud
That I drowned out every last thought I had
When I realize that it is a good day
I wonder how far "good" goes
Because that same day I wake up in the middle of the night
With an anxiety attack
Blood rushing, heart beating
I remembered that I was still alive
And the only reason it was still a good day
Is because I fought it
I remember that I would rather be under water
Struggling and fighting to get back to the surface
Is better than being at the surface on a canoe
Thinking about how I wouldn't care
If it tipped over and I couldn't get back up
I want to tell you this
I want to tell you that the canoe is tipping
I wrote out the text I wanted to send you
And deleted it before I could send it
Like screaming for help
In a soundproof room
Harold John Bray, Jr., Seaman 2C- The last surviving member of the iconic Navy vessel the USS Indianapolis. The Indy was a capitol ship that just returned statewide for major repairs and refitting, following a Japanese Kamikaze attack at Okinawa. Nine members of the crew were killed, a somber time. Harold enlisted in the U.S. Navy the day he turned 17 in 1944. He learned how to drink Navy coffee when he lived in the barracks at the end of Mare Island, California while the ship was being repaired. Every day he would ride a train to the ship until it was ready to set off on a top-secret mission: delivering components of the atomic bomb destined for Hiroshima. On July 30th, 1945, while crossing the Philippine Sea the Indy was struck twice by a Japanese Submarine. It took just 12 minutes for the ship to sink. Approximately (900) of the original (1,195) crew members were able to leap into the water before it went down. For almost four days they floated in the oily and shark invested waters. The survivors watched in fear as they saw their peers being eaten alive and vanishing beneath the sea. After the sharks feasted on the wounded, they left, leaving half of the men still clinging onto hope for life. Many more lives were lost because they drank the salt and oily water. 316 men were rescued not through a search effort, but by pure chance. The Indy tragedy is a tale of haunting endurance, forgotten sacrifice, and the crushing silence that surrounded a mission intended to help end a global war.
aboard the Indy
Harold Bray- seaman 2c
the last survivor
As the sun sets on the lone elm tree.
Its' silhouette looks upon me.
I believe it’s speaking quietly,
Whispering with its gentle breeze.
Telling me, to approach and see,
How my extremities are similar to thee.
Caught in amazement, yet stuck in beauty.
In the presence of an 80 year old tree.
I ask myself, who am I to be,
Strong, respected, but most importantly?
When actually, who am I not to be?
This tree is strong, respected, and important i.e.
It gives us these aspects unconsciously.
And we too are capable of possessing the-
Strong qualities of the Survivor Tree,
From its’ symbol of strength in OKC.
Surviving the blast of our history.
____________________
The Survivor Tree survived,
The blast on April 19, 1995.
http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org
(No laugh without tears
No glad without sad
No calm without fears
No good without bad)
*Knocked flat on my rear
And found understandin’
Oh yeah, I'm still here
Oh YEAH, I'm still standin’
(No well without ill
No near without far
No warm without chill
No heal without scar)
*God's will to survive
His hard-knockin’ school
Cruel world, I'm alive
And I'm comin' for YOU
(No profit without cost
No clean without stain
No found without lost
No relief without pain)
*So glad I got
So honored to suffer
What don't do me in
Just makes me tougher
"What does not kill me, makes me stronger" - Friedrich Nietzsche