Best Tantrums Poems
I loved you the first day
I saw those big brown eyes blinking,
taking in your first moments of life.
Not a tear nor a little scream,
you seemed sheltered in my arms.
That was the day I promised to keep you safe and warm.
I remember your attempts to call for me,
gradually turning into 'daddy, daddy, daddy.'
First crawling like a caterpillar, following my every step,
to walking and grabbing my legs.
There you would be waiting at the door,
always knew when daddy would come home from work.
Telling me you loved me and I was your hero,
as you ran around in your fairy princess dresses.
I promised to make all your dreams come true.
I remember the smiles, tears and laughter,
our special song we sang together -
although you didn't know the words, still you sang along -
now your voice is like a melodious nightingale.
Every time you would fall, always looked towards me,
I would come running and raise you to the sky.
Wiping your tears, spreading those imaginary wings,
but in my heart hoping you would never learn to fly.
When I fell, trials of your father, I kept inside,
hoping you would not see my pain nor the burdens.
Guess you will never know the sacrifices of your father.
How quick you grew, all tall and hair full of locks and curls.
Slowly daddy, turned into dad and being your taxi!
Now you say you are seventeen and you think you know it all,
but you do not realize, you'll always be a baby in my eyes.
If only you could see through your father's eyes.
Sometimes you do not understand why I say no,
and those mini tantrums never last too long.
I know in the future it will all make sense.
You dream about studying far, far away,
travelling this wild, crazy, mysterious world.
Yet, I know every road you venture upon,
one of them will lead you back home.
When days are sunny,
you smile sweetly, walking headstrong,
but when there is thunder and rain clouds follow -
those sweet brown eyes always turn to me -
always ending in 'thank you for being my daddy.'
Adding to the millions of 'I love you more.'
Little do you know that is impossible.
Silent One
5 October 2020
Categories:
tantrums, appreciation, dad, daughter,
Form:
Prose
~STRIP TEASE~ Featuring:) SKAT
Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling
Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration,
Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation
Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast
Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat
Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim
I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound
My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim
A dulcet apple acrostic bottom, to squeeze the greed
Feathers, on top, poetic diction describing to please
At times, I'm in deep dire need of something sweet, and sour
Endless epic words, and ode to the naked poetic world
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, the freaking awesome
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
---
Symbol of the spiritual Sexy SKAT Slang
--Provocative-- A slippery succulent, scrumptious kiss
Counterparts working the tension, another arrant appetite
I am the Illuminati illusion, laminating luscious illustrated letters
Indulging in the, satire of one stilt spoken sunset
Like a child's spiking temperature, I often throw tantrums,
Teasing attentions, by incorporating a pole, paper and pen,
If someone is uncomfortable with facing the fact,
When I reveal everything, without removing my high heels
Then you must not be worldly or women and man enough
I love to spoil and slur my scenery, using my best assets
My strength and power parallel, any unique universe
That's how confident the audience makes me feel
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, fantastic and fabulous
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Categories:
tantrums, addiction, adventure, beauty, passion,
Form:
Alliteration
I'm not selling a house, i'm leaving my home.
Happy times together, months spent alone.
Morning sickness, baby loss, labour and birth
Planting my seeds in good strong earth.
Mess in the kitchen, prams in the hall
Mud on the carpet, pen on the wall;
First we were two, then 3, 4 and 5
Not forgetting the pets, no longer alive.
Babies then toddlers, starting to talk,
Rolling, crawling then learning to walk.
Feeding my firstborn at 5 in the morning,
Here comes the milkfloat, a new day is dawning.
The scent of lavendar in warm summer air
Makes me think of that first one, big eyes and brown hair.
Planting some snowdrops in a place cool and shady
Done just in time for that quick second baby.
Yellow peony in May for the one that was lost
Daffodils and hyacinths for the boy who came last.
Tantrums and tears, sometimes theirs, often mine
Sleepsuits and socks on the long washing line.
Apples and raspberries, potatoes and herbs
Hunting for woodlice, new homes for worms.
Deep winter snow piling up at the door
Morning sun in the garden, it's spring once more.
So now we are going, new adventures to come
But i'm not selling a house, i'm leaving my home.
7th april 2018
Categories:
tantrums, child, emotions, family, garden,
Form:
Let me tell you the story of Miss Jenny Prime,
who spent all of her days making everything rhyme.
It was thought she’d outgrow this strange childhood spell,
but her fetish just grew and made her parents’ life hell.
When Miss Prime was a baby, still sporting a bib,
each night she was cuddled, then placed in a crib
by her doting young parents, who thought it quite funny
to give her a pet name, “Sleep tight Hunny Bunny.”
And that was the start of poor Jenny’s plight,
forced to listen to vowel chimes night after night.
Before long she was making up rhymes for herself,
all her un-rhyming toys were just left on the shelf.
Even quenching her thirst could cause quite a stink,
no O.J for Jenny, her drink had to be pink.
They bought her some shoes, red, shiny and new,
“I’ve told you, I’m not wearing a shoe that’s not blue”
She demanded a dog so they went to the pound,
she picked the fattest one there, just to have a round hound.
Her bed had to be red, her jeans had to be green,
and a fish dish for dinner or she’d cause a right scene.
Stamping her feet she cried “I should be Jenna,
and for pocket money, I should be getting a tenner”
Each Friday brought tantrums, as she hardly had any,
reluctantly taking just a penny for Jenny.
Her increase in years simply brought more despair,
she bleached ebony locks for she needed fair hair.
The colours of clothes always caused her to cry,
so to get round the problem she learned to tie-dye.
Now I know it will come as some sort of surprise,
but Jenny had caught a young gentleman’s eyes.
He knew things would be tough, but he’d give it a try
so, with posies of roses, he dared to drop by.
The roses were great and he was kinda cute,
he’d even gone to the trouble of tie-dying his suit.
He was called Jack Kilkenny, his name did not rhyme,
so she told him to leave and stop wasting her time.
But Jack was his nickname, his real name was Lenny.
Alas, this information was not known to Jenny.
He was perfect for her, a match better than any,
for if they’d wed they’d be Lenny and Jenny Kilkenny.
Categories:
tantrums, funnynight, night, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
Someone near and dear to me
Has a child with Downs Syndrome,
Who, more often than not
Is beyond difficult to control.
The little boy is six years old
But acts as if he’s two,
He can’t speak at all, just yells a lot
Throwing wild tantrums until he’s blue.
He likes throwing things around
As if everything’s a toy,
And has difficulty distinguishing
Between bad behavior and pure, ecstatic joy.
(And his mother is a nervous wreck,
always picking up after the boy).
His fingers are his eyes at times
As textures are his friends,
If he doesn’t like the way it feels
He won’t go there again.
And he likes to lay down on the ground
Balling up like a boulder,
Until someone comes to pick him up
While he gives them his cold shoulder.
It’s difficult to fully describe
All the nuances of this child,
The range of his emotions
From anger and sadness to his beautiful, blissful smile.
(And his mother is a nervous wreck,
walking many lonely miles).
They wonder about his future
And those around him always near,
And wonder how much happiness
Will follow him through the years.
Will he learn to play an instrument
Or dance and sing a song,
Is it possible he will marry someday
Will true love come along?
Will he find friends who will love him
And treat him sweet and kind,
Or only those who will shun him
And close him off like blinds.
(And his mother is a nervous wreck,
And losing her own mind.
His mother is a nervous wreck
And loves him
All the time).
© Terrell Martin, 02/26/2025
Categories:
tantrums, emotions, mental health,
Form:
Rhyme
I can still remember,
when they said you may not be born,
my heart became so heavy,
wondering how I would mourn.
I can still remember,
the first day I held you close,
you were so calm and beautiful,
with big brown eyes and a little nose.
I can still remember,
daddy was your first word,
such a dulcet melodious voice,
more beautiful than a mockingbird.
I can still remember,
when I would come home at night,
how you would come running,
smiling sweetly and eyes shining so bright.
I can still remember,
sometimes when life became a struggle,
you would calm all my fears,
with a big hug and a warm snuggle.
I can still remember,
pleading with God to keep me alive,
so that I could always protect you,
I needed the will to survive.
I can still remember,
your flamboyant 'diva like' style,
singing and dancing all day,
you knew how to make people smile.
You think your dad's like a mountain,
how in trials, I show no emotion,
its because I don't want you to worry,
even when I crumble, I'll show you devotion.
So, my precious little girl with the curls,
today's the day you're no longer a teen,
but you will always be my innocent angel,
even when throwing tantrums like a drama queen!
I know the day will come,
when your prince charming will take you away,
But, my little sweetheart,
remember that daddy loved you since your first day.
Categories:
tantrums, daughter,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m giving you two weeks’ notice
And then I’m evicting you
From my heart
You haven’t been paying your dues…
Lingering caresses
Entwining embraces
Passion laden kisses
And loving whispers
Are overdue
LONG overdue
What’s worse…
You’ve been trashing the premises
With your careless words
dirty excuses
filthy put-downs...
Your childish tantrums
And misplaced anger
Have littered my heart
You have been bringing in
Uninvited guests
To share the night
Thinking I was unaware
Of the trysts
But this place is meant for you
YOU
Alone
There has been too much
Way too much
Wear and tear
And so I declare
You are being evicted
Pack up your things
And find another
Heart
to live in!
I need some time
To set things right
To make repairs...
The love paint needs to dry
The dream frames need to be hung
The soiled sheets need to be purified
I need to sew new curtains of hope
And wash away the grime from the
windows of my heart
Before I can even consider
Taking in a new resident.
Two weeks…..
Just enough time
For you to pay for damages
And then to leave
Peacefully...
Before I have you thrown out
of this heart of mine!
Categories:
tantrums, allegory, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
The folly of the fight
These four walls; such contemptible and wretched creatures-
mock me, taunt me, deride me as weak and worthless.
I am shackled to the two evil twins-Misery and Myalgia.
As I wrestle with my afflictions, I throw tantrums-like a feral beast
charging towards the drawn sword.
However...I succumb to the inevitable.
I sense the folly of the fight and submit,
although-unwillingly to this intransigent,
auto-immune disease.
How do you fight an enemy entrenched in your marrow?
This enemy is urging me onward on this death march,
and it is unrelenting in it's insistence.
Death, at times, feels like a release of sorts,
but I could never indulge myself in such disgraceful folly.
The pain is intractable, inscrutable, but...
I soldier onward... until the end.
August 07, 2020
John Derek Hamilton
Categories:
tantrums, body, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Ah, Wind, we've known each other so long.
While creatures run quickly from your side,
I've tried to find kindness in your song
but your howls become hard to abide.
You loudly roar blowing doors ajar,
trees bent weary by ceaseless pummel.
I hear your rumble, beginning far
announcing yourself, never humble.
Beneath blue skies, a rustle of leaves,
a gentle breeze stirring grains of sand.
Clever Wind sending Zephyr to tease
but we now know the tricks in your hand.
You can charm dust into whirling dance
spinning her round as dust devils fly.
Then do your best to spoil a romance
with your chuckle as they reach the sky.
Unmentionable tantrums and blows,
your foot stamping when you are annoyed.
Leveling towns, do you regret those
heartbreaks caused as you merrily toyed?
Sometimes forlorn, or is that a guise,
when quickly you stop, tempering voice?
is that sadness I see in your eyes?
With flashes of scorn, you make your choice.
April 23, 2023
for "Word Challenge--W Words" poetry contest
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables=9
Categories:
tantrums, conflict, earth, sound, wind,
Form:
Quatrain
The Tempest
Upon enchanted sands of shipbreached shores
Dethroned beggar of a borrowed callow mystery
Heaves a lightning staff into the waves -
Thunderous and raw clandestine secrecy
On luminous swirling ariels sheering the celestial –
Into the curfew of castaway souls as a hoary appeal
Where storm surges loot delirium in foreboding typhoons
As rioting angels brood in their search
For the orphaned heart in tattered rags of upheaval.
Hear the muted tempest of dark depths roar
As wintered tantrums rock the shores
Leasing waves with unseen spells and charms,
Harnessing the tidal astrals in purifying
Tsunamis of holy risk –
Storm watch night, for souls in cataclysmic squalls,
Reshape the shallow shoals infected by deceit
Refresh the tidal pools emptied by betrayal
Now calm the ruffled gales -the shattered glassy sea,
Return from shipwrecked isle to fury abandoned shores.
11/3/2020
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 6
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest
Categories:
tantrums, life, ocean, peace, storm,
Form:
Free verse
I stay close to the ocean.
Its wild waters surround me,
And the thundering waves
Rant and rave around me.
I see the leviathan,
Screaming at me,
Charging feral,
Like an enraged beast.
It snarls at me.
It howls and yells.
In its deadening roar
In its pouncing gait
In its sweeping rush
In its pounding thud
I hear the wail of a banshee,
Announcing death.
I become so small.
I become so powerless.
A helpless doe,
Before a mighty foe.
At another time
The sea lies quiet like a babe.
Its violent tantrums lulled to sleep.
Its bosom heaving in peaceful slumber.
Its rhythmic beat, its magic, and the charm,
Its depth and beauty all combined.
I see the gulls in the air.
I hear them squeal.
I feel the waves over the sand,
Lapping around my feet.
I listen to their murmur and shout.
I glance at dolphins over the surf.
I watch them dance.
I behold ships over the waters.
I see them glide.
I hear the night air sing.
I feel the spray of water,
And sense its coolness,
I notice seashells,
Half buried under the sand,
I pick one from the strand,
To tie it around my neck,
As an amulet,
With the ceaseless whisper of waves
And the sea’s undying commotion
Shut and encased within!
Categories:
tantrums, beauty, irony, sea,
Form:
Free verse
>Playing games with tennis balls?
Men, playing games with tennis balls!
Earn far too much dough.
In the game of tennis you know.
Some male players are now acting tough.
Saying they aren’t paid enough.
For playing games with balls not too rough.
Now they say they want more pay.
Than women, who with their balls do play.
Dragon, that last line sounds not right.
Might be read wrong, on first sight.
Guess someone will soon complain tonight.
We’ll blame it on AI, that’s right.
I’m glad they’ve all got the same dough.
When winning Wimbledon you know.
I still feel sorry for all them balls.
When served so fast into the air.
That’s the thing, I don’t think’s fair.
Why is it when men play ball games?
They insult women so.
Them that play tennis, with those tennis balls.
Some men really do you know.
If women should with those tennis balls play.
Men should never complain anyway.
For when women serve those balls so.
Men can volley them back you know.
Women may not be as strong as men.
In all sport games they play.
But neither do they throw tantrums.
If match points, don’t go their way.
I’m not a keen tennis viewer, that I must declare.
As I watch those poor tennis balls, whizzing through the air.
I had a job explaining that, to my friend Planet Nine.
He thought they were small planets, being hit for fore.
I said that was another sport, best we do ignore.
I wish all sports ball game prizes, were at least the same.
Played on a fair smooth plain
Not on a plane that flies so high.
You can’t play those ball games, in the sky.
So come on you men, do play fair.
Pay all prize money equally so there.
When women play, ball games with you.
They can be on equal pay too.
What else can I really say?
As I play with balls every day.
But as a poet, I don’t play swell.
Nor am I paid as blinking well.
Well done Dragon and you Spellchecker, sorry but we will have to divide the royalties with Planet Nine. Why? That simple he is bigger than us. Bye everybody. Stanley (The mad Author)<
Categories:
tantrums, cool, encouraging, games, gender,
Form:
You stare at me with vacant eyes
It’s like living with a stranger
Tears and tantrums we both despise
Where is the man I once loved?
Locked inside your own little world
Sometimes a piece of music makes you smile
But every day I know I’m losing you
I’m losing you bit by bit
I no longer get greeted with a loving kiss
These days you lash out uncontrollably
I get battered and bruised by your flying fist
But I’ll never give up loving you
NOT written from personal experience of living with someone with dementia
08~07~16
Categories:
tantrums, caregiving, dedication, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
“THE APPEAL of the SEA” ©
The troubled torrents upon the beach pour
Constantly claiming the sands of the shore
Vexed for good reason with purpose assured
Pounding and thrashing some threats are here stored
Restless in action and heady with need
Racing so often much creatures to feed
Dashing & splashing inciting some fear
Meanwhile inviting to those with more dare
Roaming all over companion the sky
Giving all color no matter how high
Crashing & churning with consummate ease
All as if playing or perhaps in tease
Shifting & prancing is just to get back
Sustaining the life with all it may lack
All finding succor in shallow & deep
Determined by nature each one to so keep
Ebbing and flowing is one & the same
Feeding all nations in His Holy name
Moving forever as if in a dance
Honoring nature not merely by chance
Shimmering often pervasive in sleep
Still holding your stare while yet dancing deep
Embracing rivers regardless of state
Where else could they go before it’s too late
They too conspire to dump more than silt
Aided by humans who bear the most guilt
Were it to be steady as lying in bay
Then all would be lost to rot & decay
Not only its tantrums will it best be known
But giving with pleasure for life to be sewn
We should be caring for both land & sea
Long taken for granted by both you & me
C-More ®
Categories:
tantrums, environment, nature,
Form:
I am the wind;
a tempest tossing leaves and rain;
I move, re-arrange things as I please.
On dark, damp nights,
I bring energy and light;
yet, I’ve never claimed to,
be a performer.
My whims are a surprise;
my tantrums, terrifying
and I bring forth many changes
and emotions.
The non-discriminating adventurer
that I am, I touch every living thing;
man and beast cower, at my command.
As Mama Nature’s eldest son;
I control my siblings well;
commanding fire and water.
I teach them to be strong
And we elements are within you.
You mobile batteries may
create artificial light and darkness;
among other opposites that,
attract and without whom,
duality would not exist.
Non-duality is a mind-numbing movie;
short-lived and perfectly useless;
an empty stage, left to rot.
I am the wind and I blow where
and how I please with,
all at my mercy.
Categories:
tantrums, environment, nature, weather, wind,
Form:
Prose