Best Victims Poems


Anthology is a scam and we are all victims!

Well, here is the truth for you all, 
since you had no idea you are a 
part of one big scam called Poetry Soup
which charges you for the anthology
just so you can see your own poem,
so that means don't be upset because
you were not accepted into Anthology that
has close to a 1000 poets in it and even more poems,
they take everything and anything and pretend
like they had to read all of the works and then decide,
it is a nonsense and be happy that you did not get accepted!
My poem got accepted and i cant read it, because they want me to buy 
the book just so i can see my poem in it.
Now this whole place could be a scam,
because if they can scam us through Anthology
that means they do not give three s about what we write!
Diverse Voices is a scam, Poetry soup is a scam,
the whole internet is a scam, and the only way 
you will be able to accept this fact is to stop posting here,
and for over 20 years this scam has been taking our poetry
in exchange for profit of which we get 0. How is this poem for a change?
Truth hurts that is why nobody wants to hear it.
DIVERSE VOICES MY ASS!

Premium Member Poetic Victims of Circumstance

"Cruel birds—ravens—but wise. And creatures should be loved for their wisdom if they cannot be loved for kindness."
- Hannah Kent


My lover's demons are like ravenous ravens.
Her love is a hand grenade triggering exploding emotions,
massacring words into silent suppression
but beyond the threshold of her eyes, 
there's a scarlet love silhouette, 
hoping upon hope for expression,
to reset her reality -  to express her freedom of spirit.

I ask the one who feels the tremors of my heart,
why are you afraid of happiness?

We were not made to be broken,
yet we fracture a little everyday.
Although you are fragile like a paper plane,
the world with you and me can soar
against turbulence in the world's playground.

In darkness I'll be your harbinger of crescent moons,
as my heart is a complex phenomenon,
yearning to be special in your ordinary sighs.
I hunger for you to leave me breathless,
as internal invisible wounds don't heal,
when we are lost in an ocean of souls,
but empathy has an evergreen effervescence,
so I'll radiate light into your wilted moonflower eyes,
watching them glow like dancing streetlights.

In the angst of absence and abandonment,
I've lost all desire to bleed,
searching for harmony in music's salvation,
but it only brings broken strings,
as I'm sleeping to the rhythm of heartache.

My muse serenades in melancholic melodies,
composing a confusing chaos concerto,
searching for pamphlets of medleys 
with symphonies of pleasure.

What are we,
but poetic victims of circumstances,
versifying verses which unravel my mysteries.
Maybe in a peaceful tomorrow, 
I'll write again,
but today, 
I'll bathe in raindrops of hope,
illuminating in a rainbow of reveries.

I believe in magic when I envision your cathartic haze.
I know you are obsessed with forever,
but time silently escapes whilst we are apart.
If not in this temporary existence,
then in the afterlife, meet me in heaven,
where we can rise with eternal ethereal sunrises,
because your celestial eyes betray your mortal guise.

I could never write a poem as perfect as you.
With or without me,
we'll be immortally together in heartbeats,
where there is poetry,
there will always be love.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Holocaust's Nameless Victims

Bright yellow badges proclaimed their faith
Paraded like nameless cattle
Counted and cooped as poultry
Numb and gelid they lay
Only thing alive
Was A desire
For a smooth
Kiss of
Death

Written On:04/24/2017
Contest:'Form N' by Broken Wings


Memories Warning-Possible Trigger For Sexual Abuse Victims

The memories pull her down,
Like the undertow. 
Drowning.
Suffocating.
She tries to fight it, 
But it’s of no use.
She feels dirty, fat, victimized, defiled,
Extorted, broken, and ugly.
She can feel their hands on her
The unwelcome touches and gestures.
She feels small, defenseless, vulnerable, violated. 
Their taunts, threats, lies, and commands fill her ears.
She covers herself with multiple layers of clothing,
But no matter how many she has on
 She can still feel them.
She covers her ears,
But no matter how hard she presses her hands
She can still hear them.
She relives it all 
Every day and every night.
She’s terrified to sleep.
Terrified to live.
The nightmares are relentless.
The flashbacks, torture.
When will it stop?
When will it end?
Will it ever be over?
The memories escape from her eyes
And stream down her face.
She tries to stuff the memories 
Back into their closets
And the demons back into the abyss
That some would call her soul. 
But she’s too tired,
Too weak,
Too exhausted,
Too devastated.
She shuts her eyes 
And locks them tight,
Like the door to a prison cell. 
She crawls to the darkest corner of her mind,
Curls up in a ball,
And waits,
Yet again,
For it all to be over.
© Brynn Rose  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member - A Prayer From The War Victims -


     A empty face, dirty and dried tears on his cheeks 
     Eyes that have already experienced too much 
     A boy of 5 years folds his hands so small 
     and hope his prayer to heaven will reach 
     Life is so cruel and he need a friend -
     My mother and my father ... I do not know where 
     My home in ruins ... bombs have destroyed it 
     So heavenly father ... can you hold my hand 
     Hold around my little body ... 
                   Comfort me 
                            Love me 
     I'm only 5 years old and so scared  

     Amen





       Contest Name :Bible
       Sponsor:Regina Riddle
       

       - Thank you for my 6 space in the contest -



       16.08.2014
       A-L Andresen :)
       Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Premium Member Victims

This world of ours is not always a good place
behind closed doors so many terrible things occur.
Hidden from plain sight some suffer endless torture
by the very ones who should love them the most.
Terrible things done sometimes in loves name
horrific beatings handed out, just for the sake of control.
Murders committed simply because one person will not share
killing so no-one else can take their supposed loved one away.
Children living in fear beaten and starved flinching at loud voices
creeping round like little mice hoping praying they are not noticed.
Gangs that bully and terrorise neighbourhoods while selling drugs
slashing up rival gangs purely for more territory to increase their strangle hold
to continue their evil crimes. Young girls and boys sold into sexual slavery,
victims each and everyone and all for profit. War torn countries
full of horrendous abuse, dead and injured cast aside like trash.
Yet for each who deals out these horrible crimes once they were
different, once they were loved. Can all be explained away by the fact
that they were taught by those that reared them in these horrific circumstances?
Or is it true that some were born monsters who enjoy other's pain and grief?
Practicing their craft on helpless victims as they grow up pulling wings of birds
slicing and dicing up beloved pets. Always attacking the weak and helpless.
Plain bullies that carry out their crimes in secret afraid to face those of strength.
One never really knows what goes on behind those closed doors. Yet when a
victim finally snaps and turns the tables oft times they are the ones our systems
punish and lock away behind bars while their tormentor is left free to continue
their rampage. Who I ask is the beast? Mankind surely deserves this name not animals.


A Prayer For Disaster Victims

Almighty and Merciful God, Father of all creation;

        Hear our Prayer

Mother Nature who is seated at your left hand has delivered her vengeance
upon your creation in the form of Massive Earthquakes in the last two months,
whereupon many thousands of your children have perished; Lord in your Mercy,

        Hear our Prayer

Countless hundreds of thousands have been left homeless, starving, bewildered,
many thousands of children have lost their parents, brothers and sisters left alone,
Lord in your Mercy;

        Hear our Prayer

Devastation of homes and property where insurance does not exist, where building
codes do not require standards to make buildings be built to withstand such power.
Where only ruin is left in the wake of Mother Natures wrath, Why has she done so?  
Lord in your Mercy;

       Hear our Prayer

Father we ask you to shine your light perpetual, your Merciful Grace, your undying Love
to guide those who are giving aid to give so freely, with love in their hearts, with
caring souls.
Lord in your Mercy;

        Hear our Prayer

We ask that you also grant those who receive aid also see your perpetual light and guidance
to accept the offered aid without malice, without greed, without violence but only with 
open arms, open hearts, open souls and Love in their hearts for the gift of your Love.
Lord in your Mercy;

       Hear our Prayer

And Father one last thing, Please grant us the dignity and grace to not turn away from 
those children who are so desperately in need, so that we may if only Pray for them that 
we do so with open and Loving hearts as you would have us do. Lord in your Mercy;

      Hear our Prayer


May the Almighty Father of all Creation Shine His Perpetual  light upon all of you !
In the name of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,

       Hear My Prayer

We Are Victims

We are victims
Tied with  common fetters 
Loosed in thoughts of varied choices and desires
Loosely searching to make ends meet:
The meeting at this spot,
Either to go or stay, is a choice.

We are victims
Of the policies of pain
Emitted to drive us crazy, 
We are on the street , though not crazy.
Destroying our common patrimony. 
In futility, our sweat squeezed and 
Mixed with our hot blood,
Spilled on the street’
The rampage against the policies that police our lives.

We are victims 
Caught in the web 
Of a cruel nation
Piloted by scoundrels
The apostles of destruction
Who roused our emotions,
Taking the only broken cup 
Left for us to scoop 
The dirty water in the pond:
The beggar’s choice!
Out of pain, we have  heaped mud 
To cover the pond.
 
Yes, we are victims.
Our pain boldly inscribed on our skin
Our  thick skin, the archive of servitude .
And every effort to initiate freedom,
The beginning of futility.
  
We are  pushed to the wall,
The dog must bark.
While it barks, 
Its kennel is sacred.
Let us not destroy each other, our lots and more.
Let us not engage the street to loot, 
Though we remonstrate ,
Let’s not pull down our commonwealth,
The acreages of government,
They belong to us.
We are victims of a beautiful nation stressed with stench politicking.

Forgiveness, In Memory of the Victims of Charleston Church Shooting

It was an altar of prayer
but God didn't rise
evil entered the house in a noble disguise.
Bullets were strewn 
sanity was killed
bodies fell as corpses
blood did spill.
And hatred had the victory
on that grisly day, it seemed.

It was pain, agony and cry 
they felt in their mind and hearts, they were the kin
of the happy churchgoers.
"I forgive you"  those words they uttered
time and time
the evil stood in silence and just smiled.
People made a human chain
and prayed 
and it was not revenge that struck the deal
but forgiveness that prevailed.
Love had its last smile
and it triumphed at the end.
© Nirode Ray  Create an image from this poem.

To the Victims of Violence

People sharing life together
Every country, every land
All of us are in this together
Created for goodness and love
Every life is precious

Only fear can cause this kind of evil
Nothing good comes from suffering on this scale

Every person: man, woman, and child 
All through the wide world should be able to 
Remember a time without violence or pain
Truly knowing what it means to be safe
Heaven knows it is long overdue.

Premium Member Stroke Victims

Time is Brain
F.A.S.T. learners gain
© Mark Toney  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Circumstances of Victims

Ambushed by gunmen on a highway in Ocotlán.
Threatened outside a mine site in San José del Golfo.
Shot dead by motorcycle gunmen while driving in Camotán.
Forced from their camp by mine trade unionists in La Sierrita.
Fired at while traveling to meet with fishermen of the Arauca River.
Thousands forcibly displaced by armed conflict in Cauca Department.
Arrested and held incommunicado on leaving his office at the University of Al Zaiem.
In serious but stable condition following a shooting after protesting the El Tambor mine.

Samples from letters
written to 'responsible authorities'
in places I’ve never been
in support of people
much like you and me
with hopes, tribulations
and kids with laughing faces;
perhaps with land.
Who for reasons various
are on the sharp edge
of the process
which provides us
with bright shirts, cheap coffee
and funny vignettes on my N+1g tab .
Occasionally my letters
are followed by good news,
or at least an acknowledgement.
The least I can do; 
it's never enough,
yet  I hope it keeps
a candle burning.


Written after 20+ years writing letters for Amnesty International's Urgent Action Network

Premium Member Echoes of a Victims Plea

Echoes of A Victims Plea

The fires burn on; the polemics fuelled
More crocodile tears from the politicians who've duelled
To capture the lens of the Press.

But our loved ones cry that simple tear
For those of us whom they loved so dear
.........Immortalised (they) nonetheless!!!

Now the cruel sea with arrogance
Beat back attempts by those who chance
Their lives to bring us back.

But just leave us here, within our grave
We're not all strong, all bold, all brave;
We're souls - it's just life we lack.
				15 July 1988

Victims of Love

Let me not to enticing you
and give you hope that you doubt
Allow me not to excite you
with a momemt of pleasure and dimes

Your dreams are your future
they are not for a moment
Regrets haunt forever 
and are not for a moment

I see love turnng to lies
a result of happiness' cry
When love tries to find a site
know that instincts never lie

Demolished homes I see 
with broken pieces of soul
Once were promised love
when the weather was cold

Peace can't find its home
the atmosphere is blury
those who found peace
are those that we buried

The Plague of Anxiety

On Sunday, the sweet soft tone of the choir was muted
The church pews were brimming with dust
Ushers were unable to give directions
For even the congregation was stuck up in isolation
Preachers had to minister to the echo of their own voices

No trace of humanity has witnessed such a calamity
A pandemic with the propensity to spread faster than fake news
The entire globe is bleeding a single wound
We have to stay at home to avoid the blood stains
Meeting friends and family seem to be the good old days
The latest trend is keeping a  distance and washing your hands

Who knows? 
What's in the air or exactly how this thing spreads?
The beautiful feeling of just going out and getting fresh air
Now, it seems like a bad idea
This Plague, like a fiend, feeds the earth thousands of righteous victims every day
 It's striking a newly sharpened double edged sword into the hearts of mortals
This is not just a virus, it's fear itself
Take precaution!

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