Boys Poems - Poems about Boys

Black boys deserve flowers too Black boys deserve flowers too Not just at their funerals Not when they're already gone Not when we are just mourning them Black boys deserve flowers too Not just laid at their tombstone Not just because you feel guilty Not just because you couldn't love them fully Black boys deserve flowers too This is long overdue They deserve...

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These days I often find myself lying on my pristine rock, hard bed thinking about why the world would ever care about someone like me. I wonder how my thoughts ever drifted this far. Maybe social media? Or my own self-conceit, brimming with forbidden passions even van Gogh or Picasso couldn't imagine. Yet, I only say that because I can't...

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In somber silence, the Old Boys sit. Only ambient noise they permit. Not sitting face-to-face, it's such a lonely place. I, frankly, don't want to be in it....

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Jibber jabber, pitter patter; another one is screaming, now what's the matter? Little feet, stinky feet, how many rocks did you just eat? Sticky hands, runny nose; did you just pick your nose with your toes? Booger picking, booger eating; do we need to have another prayer meeting? Messy house, stained up clothes; with these three boys, anything goes. Terrible two's and attitude; where'd they...

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A tattoo that may have been from youth Could be of a religious reference too How horrific it would feel you would be blue Torn from your life family country rights refused Some may accuse you of being in a gang Yet KKK and Proud Boys are the very same Not any of them are arrested put in chains Double standards are...

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It gets kind of crazy living with 3 young boys, there’s always a mess and there’s constant noise. Their mouths constantly running, their little legs too; they rough-house like tiny wrestlers, off the couch they just flew. They never get old, those silly fart jokes; and the noise and clanking of those bicycle spokes. They change costumes every...

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To you I dedicate The visual hazards At you a post Bailing water And ima float Sam tha ghosted Ships end blisters China bone, scandinavian romes Too the beautiful i dead, i kate Lovely little irish twisters Cant sake Im four’d ...

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Conservatives’ banning’s apropos of nothing At twelve when he delt with this shouldn't have to jump through hoops should’ve been able to explore when a teen But because of many conservative groups The Ire excessive was the coming of age Juvenile mistakes made in adult years Denied the ability to pick up social skills Sexual assault and sexual awaking considered pornographic Q**r’s often live...

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They were youthful and enthusiastic, They were zealous and industrious, They rose from their beds before the sun emerged from its chamber, And rode on the wings of the morning light. They knew when to venture into the deep, They understood the mysteries of time, They summoned the elements at dawn, Nature held...

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Each one’s a giant, a tale to unfold, A living treasure, richer than gold. With hearts so vast, like the steppe they roam, The boys of our village, as strong as stone. Their eyes ablaze like springtime skies, Pride unyielding, they’ll brook no lies. Though fiery at times, they heed what’s right, The boys of our village, steadfast in might. They walk upright,...

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Soon as I feel the pain I notice my avoidance I want something but I’m afraid I’m not sure what I’m doing I can’t force you off my mind but I think your better off if I make myself the bad guy Dissatisfied with my choices but I still keep going You come across my mind...

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Spaghetti drips from old-fashioned lips like a cascading waterfall; the pics, yellowed; and clothes, of three fellows, sepia-toned. Commonality of hunger or mere curiosity as directed at the bulb. Whether eyes, mmm, while closed, open or scant, the fullness of pleasure of pasta dripping from their mouth; today’s boy just shows off all his food on the tongue. ...

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In shadows deep, we stand alone, a silent breed, Hollow boys we are, the last, who don't ever die. Whispers in the night, our secrets untold, In every heartbeat, a story unfolded. Unseen, unheard, we walk the path unknown, Through the valleys of sorrow, we have grown. Forged in the fires of endless despair, We wear our scars with a silent air. No...

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Bad boys, bad boys Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys...

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Playing football with boys in the street Before training bras and high heels on my feet I was a tomboy when it was cool to be A Carolina girl born wild and free Free to play ball Free to be lost In the hood, in the woods With my shoes off Free to have friends Free to say Amen Free to be me Chasing...

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