Captor Poems | Examples

Through Life's Clenched Jaw

Our proximity came with my age
And I only saw your later chapters, 
though I saw myself in you.

Not unlike myself with ambition,
Homely peers and shouting,
The weight you did accrue.

Your aims changed a while ago,
And I added them to my own,
I saw your smile tighten,
But I let my feelings stew.

Fancy chains of gold, white veiled capture,
And, yes,  I hate your captor,
Sceptical of this new chapter, 
and the baby cradle too.

As of now your hands have turned to hitting,
Smiles inclined to swearing,
Your son is only one now,
And our similarities are already true?

As I try to slumber now the stature cracks,
The bringer of tears strikes again,
And I struggle to identify who.

I’ve looked up for the longest time,
And I gaze into you now that I’ve grew.

The truth I’ve come to grips with now,
I don’t want to be you.

Runaways

When your heartbeats drum their message of love.
My heart soars like the birds flying above.
As flashing thunder streaks across dark skies,
I will come swiftly, believe not their lies.

If any would stop me, my rage I’ll display.
Nothing or no one will stand in my way.
True love hath no captor, it must be free.
Our hearts and our love are just meant to be. 

So, hold on to faith and be not dismayed,
The last card in this game has not been played.
They ceased control because we’re still young,
Meet me out back when you hear the bell rung.

I’ve bought fast horses, we’ll be on the run,
You’ll be real safe, long as I have my gun.

The Captivated Captor

I watch as you lay—
not bound by chains,
but by something I cannot name.
Your silence fills the room,
a rhythm I can’t ignore,

and I find myself
waiting for you to speak
in the quiet moments
where I’m no longer certain
who holds the key.

Beyond the Past

The past is a lesson, not a prison,
The past is a mentor, not a captor.

The past is a tale, not a jail,
The past is a page, not a cage.

The past is a foundation, not a stagnation,
The past is a phase, not a maze.

The past is a guide, not a slide,
The past is a map, not a trap.

The past is a chapter, not the answer,
The past is a teacher, not a tether.

The past is a story, not a worry,
The past is a friend, not an end.

The past is a history, not your destiny.

Self-Sentenced Solitude :POTD:

Locked within the confines of my mind’s dark cell,
Both convict and captor, a self made hell.
Each thought a shackle, every memory a bar,
Confined by my own mind, a prisoner of psychological scars.

In this self-imposed exile, I am utterly alone,
A solitary figure locked in a world of dark, cold stone.
Forsaken by hope, abandoned by light,
I dwell in the shadows, a prisoner of everlasting night.

These lonely walls echo my silent screams,
As I fight with demons, trapped in dreadful dreams.
I reach out for redemption, but find none there,
In this self made prison, my remorseful soul lays bare.

For I am the architect of my own demise,
Sentenced to solitude, beneath storming skies.
Cramped within the confines of my own creation,
Condemned to a life of eternal damnation.

Just Passing Through

Age crept upon me like a quiet thief
Reminding me of time's silent passing
Another Autumn another dead leaf
The moment's concern seems everlasting
To conjure the year my mind was aware
A child's brain with its singular thought
Where tomorrow was far a dream to share
and childhood was playful minutes sought
As joy and anguish scroll through my mind
They remind me of adult worlds of games
When turmoil was history, made us all blind
and our tears were shed on a wall of names
Dreamed a thousand dreams on a foreign shore
Saw them washed away a history's captor

Grandfather Clock

Tick, Tock, Tick..
The pendulum swings back
And drains away
Another drop 
Of my sanity 
Tock, Tick, Tock..
The pendulum swings forth
And drains away
Another drop
Of my mind
Tick, Tock, Tick..
How long must I stare?
Until it all stops?
Until I am freed?
Until next time I’ll stand?
Tock, Tick, Tock..
My mind is a prison
Yet still, I can’t move
Not until it stops
Until I’m released 
Tick, Tock, Tick..
Maybe if I died
The clock would stop ticking 
I’ll finally be free
From this way I’ve been living
Tock, Tick, Tock..
But how can I die
If I can’t even move?
I can do nothing but stare
In the eyes of my captor
Tick, Tock, Tick..
I’m still so young
Why am I here?
Fixed on a grandfather clock
What’s happened to me?
Why must I keep hearing 
Tock, Tick, Tock..
My mind is a prison
My clock is a prison
I long to break free.
Tick, Tock, Tick..

Tea Time

I once had thirty nine brothers and sisters
now I’m all alone in the world
Probing fingers
viciously tore me apart from my twin.

My white dress
is speckled with dark dust…
it’s all that remains of my siblings.
I was tossed back into my carboard box home
and left in solitary confinement

I know my days are numbered
as my captor mercilessly
dips her hand in and grabs me.
I do not struggle as she pulls me out
but I can hear a hiss and see a steaming monster

I’m popped into a pretty bone china container
It’s lovely and warm, I feel quite relieved
Until my captor says to me,
“Gran always said I should warm the teapot first”
Then the stark reality of my fate smacks me in the face

All of a sudden the floral china lid is raised
My captor is standing in front of me 
I see the steaming monster towering over me
Now I know the fate of my relations …
they were all boiled alive!

snake took me hostage

a fat black bumpy snake took me hostage in a roll.
pulled me right down into the farthest darkest hole
What the heck! What the heck! What the heck!
whoa! I yelled out for he had his fangs around my neck

down we slithered and slunk, my captor and me
I doubted he was inviting me to afternoon tea
I desperately tried to find a pocket knife
But I have never carried one in my life

suddenly I realized I was writing a poem
Would I ever get to write it?
Would he bring me home?

Who! Whoa! Whoa! Let’s talk I screamed
It was a silent scream, an awful dream.

Three Red Lines

Etched across unyielding flesh
One red line
Crimson tears wept
Upon linen fresh

Flitting steel
Lay two red lines
Side by side
Odious reminders of hope denied

Chaotic confusion hidden behind
Penniless pronouns
He, she, him or her
Artless words held by Cruelty's Captor

Three red lines
Blood stained highwaymen
Pilfering the soul
Of life once gained

Those nearby witness
Miserly motility shunning regard
A godless heart
You wait for them to cry?

Hand in hand they stand
Painfully they await
Father and mother together
Reflect upon your fate

Him, her, he or she
Penniless pronouns of an exhausted mind
"Their" life ended
By three red lines

Nature and Meditation

Susan had been abused and misused when I met her
She was not attempting to unleash herself at that point
I did not suggest it, it I something she had to decide to do
a few years later she had reinvented herself, she had confidence.

She had released herself from her captor and his negativity
he had isolated her, but she was now again with her family
surrounded by people who nurtured and cared for her
She told me nature and meditation had shown her the way

Voice of Acceptance

An orphan of destiny
whose birthmark disowns
A life spent indentured
his spirit on loan

Caught in a time warp
unable to leave
The future in chains 
contentment bereaved

A child of the moment
left on the streets
Time as his captor
in shoes of concrete

Forever unwelcome
a foster relayed
From instant to instant
his memory replays

An orphan of destiny
whose grief is reborn
In weeks unrelenting
his calendar scorned

Last chance at adoption
it calls from within
The voice of acceptance
—from him unto him

(Dreamsleep: June, 2023)

Darkness

Darkness is my weakness
Crave negativity day to day 
At war with my inner light 
Dismantle the joy my inner child 
Reckless with the will to live 
Stomp my power to the -3rd power 
Don’t have the swag to live,
Live to feel pleasure 
Wishing to go ghost 
Praying to end it all 

Heart hurts; faith locked up 
Locked in darkness 
Tears of sorrow 
Shameful of my shadow 
Looking for my heart to be rip
Ripped away from this pain 
Pain this ungodly body carries 
Reversed to the thought of hope 
Bargain with Satan
Offer seems fair 

Want to spilt my wrist 
Let go of everyone inclination  
Feeling so alone 
Feeling useless 
Screaming someone help me 
No don’t help me! 
Darkness is my love!
Surrender to my captor  
Can’t do this my soul lost! 
God help me!
Lead me!
Forgive me!
Guide me!
Want to live
Live for you!

Crying out for your mercy God!




This is art with a message I do not promote suicide suicide. If your feeling like that please get help remember you have people who do love you. 

I do not feel this way I’m happy I’m blessed it’s just poetry… 

Thank you

Hostages For Ransom

They were wasting the hostages,
This deftly handling in stages;
Thirty minutes another one slew,
Nor bothered they would soon be few...

For the beauty of Twelve Million;
They're not asking for A Trillion.
Twelve fine girls,nine boys handsome
And only Eight left for ransom
Captor tells captives "I love you!
Just that parents do not facts chew;
Like I do kola and bitter pill...
For delays, impatient guns kill..."
Isn't it too hard to swallow:
What we'd do to in wealth wallow?

Bernard Has Been Begging

Bernard has been begging
Bernard has been begging Lord God ‘Please’
For life of buffeting unease
Bernard’s lung’s finest sound an odd where,
He’d been trying all his life to ease:
Lots of menthol that should make him sneeze 
And all over again taste sweet breeze…

Bernard has been dispatching his please,
God asking where he might him appease;
During Winter seeming he would freeze
Often no better than frozen cheese;
The countenance of White smeared with Grease
From head to toe captive for release…

Bernard plans not to stop Hoped-On Please
Not when one’s captor is Smiting Disease…

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