I Do Not Care Poems | Examples
These I Do Not Care poems are examples of poetry about I Do Not Care. These are the best examples of Care I Do Not poems written by international poets.
It softens the edges of cruelty,
makes judgment feel like care,
makes exile look like protection.
It wraps the blade in velvet and calls it mercy.
I have stood in rooms full of warmth
and felt nothing but frost inside my chest.
Because warmth without understanding is suffocation.
Because heat without truth is manipulation.
They smiled as they sentenced me.
They prayed as they cast me out.
They said it was for my own good.
But I saw the fire in their eyes,
and it was not holy.
It was hungry.
Heat demands conformity.
It melts difference.
It punishes the cold for daring to remain solid.
But I did not melt.
I did not bend.
I did not become what they needed me to be.
I am the frost.
I do not lie.
I do not soften.
I do not hide.
In the cold, everything is revealed.
The breath. The wound. The truth.
There is no illusion in frost.
Only clarity.
So let them burn.
Let them bask.
Let them believe their heat is holy.
I will remain.
Sharp.
Clear.
Unmelted.
Because heat is a lie.
And I am the truth it cannot touch.
Have you not wondered why we close the door,
Why silence wraps the ones we used to crave?
Not out of spite, or pride, or keeping score
But just to stop the heart from being brave.
For if I see your name, I start to reach,
My fingers trace the hope I try to hide.
An anxious heart, no logic it can teach,
It runs toward fire, even as it’s fried.
The photos, texts, each one a quiet plea,
A ghost that holds me fast in aching place.
So blocking you sets wounded spirit free,
Not hate, but love that knows it must give space.
I do not block because I wish you pain,
I block because I won’t survive the strain.
His face is pressed into my chest
"You need to get a bandaid"
I say. He has a cut on his finger.
"This is a bandaid
For a different wound"
He breathes warmly
On Growing Older
Sometimes my steps are steady,
Sometimes my hands shake.
Sometimes my memory falters,
And I make some sad mistake.
Sometimes I hear you talking
But I do not understand.
Just remember that I love you
And I do the best I can.
My skin is sagged and wrinkled.
I look a little like an Elf.
My eyesight's getting hazy,
Sometimes I repeat myself.
But I still love the beauty,
Of the big old open sky
And Precious little children,
Sometimes at night I cry,
I look back on my efforts
Did I do the things I should
But I find a gentle comfort,
That I did the best I could.
I am weary but the knowledge
That strikes the sweetest cord.
I can lay aside my worries
And leave them with the Lord.
Summer speaks:
“O wandering Wind, why do you sigh so soon?
My sunny days are not yet through.
Must you come with dry and falling leaves
To cool my fire, my joy, my golden hue?”
Autumn replies:
“Dear friend, I do not come to take, but to change—
To wrap your songs in softer light.
Your warmth has shone so strong, so long,
But now the world asks for rest, for night.”
Summer protests:
“See how the mangoes still drip with sweet,
How the koel sings from tree to tree!
Must all my bright and happy hours fade?
Must I now bow and give in to thee?”
Autumn answers softly:
“I only paint your last goodbye—
I touch your skies with calm and peace.
The fields you warmed now glow with grain,
And your last storm’s tear finds gentle release.”
A silence falls.
The sky is still. The tamarind trees don’t sway.
Then Summer smiles, and drops a single flame:
“Go on, dear sister, sing your lullabies…
But tell sweet Spring—I called her name.”
I do not like psychologist
that proclaim
they know the intra me
they did not feel or see
They proclaim they know
Yet they are far
Away from the practical show
A show deliberately created
I need not speak
For the owners of these
Deliberate plans
Know , for now
I rest in the comfort
The love God offers
For His Love is truest
Above All.
A, I did not have time to talk to you about my ill fate.
It seems nice but I think it is a curse for me this year.
It has been 5 years since you were gone,
Although I do not feel missing you as I used to,
But it did not mean I love you any less.
I am upset that I did not love you as much as I should.
I suppose, one only learns how much one was lucky until one lost it.
I took for granted you would always love me
And I would be loved and cared forever.
Would you bless me to have wisdom,
Energy, time and love for my sons.
Whom you also loved as your grand children.
Even when you never have a chance to meet them.
I was grateful for your kindness, respect and
Treated me differently to the rest of the women in your life.
The black woman is God
In the unpolished settlement of Kachikau,
I longed to catch a glimpse of God somehow,
Through Christian films and pages of a book,
I searched for signs in every nook,
In people's hearts and rituals devout,
I sought to find what it's all about.
But now, I see God in vibrant hue,
Cloaked in the colors of life anew,
A black woman, divine and true,
Whose shadow nurtured me and grew,
Bathing me in love's pure light,
Washing away the world's dark blight.
With gentle hands and fearless might,
She stood to fight for what is right,
In the face of struggle and strife,
She taught me the essence of life,
Through trials of servitude and slavery,
She shaped me with her wisdom savory.
In her precepts, I found my way,
To honor the God she is each day,
So, forevermore, I see God's grace,
In the black woman's radiant face,
A divine presence, strong and free,
In her, I see God eternally.
I am nothing more than a wandering traveller,
Intertwining through networks of stars.
I focus my path, on the sequins of light,
So my feet don’t wander in the dark.
The path is endless, with different routes,
And decisions in which I must choose.
On how to make the most of a precious life,
With time I do not want to lose.
The path can be cold, and lonely sometimes,
When the light in the dark will fade.
But the void of dark, the blackness of night,
Will again turn to a lighter shade.
We make our journey, as beings together,
And some will fall along the way,
Some will religiously follow their path,
And others to the dark will stray.
But the majority of people who do decide,
That time is as precious as life.
Will find a companion, an intertwined path,
A partner, a husband, a wife.
A pair of travellers, with souls merged as one,
Memories made together.
To see the colours and wonders of life,
And darkness to be banished forever.
I sit in class with my thoughts on blast,
The paper in front is one of the last
I fidget with my pencil and remain outcast
And act oblivious to the obvious task.
The teacher walks around, reviewing each kid;
I remain unphased, and continue to stay hid
The teacher walks past, along the floor grid
I don’t peep a sound as my thoughts start a bid.
I cannot do this task that has been handed to me,
When my thoughts won’t stop bothering me
It pains me that they live rent free,
And I really wish I could be set free.
I look at the work that is undone,
I cannot finish now or it will be numb
However later on it will be done
Only when I do not feel this unfun.
Concerns sit out there
on the periphery,
the suffering and misery of wars,
deaths by disasters be it
by natural or human causes,
the reckless diminution
of forests -
all creep like shadows
across the face of the earth.
What can I do
but be a witness
and add a frail voice
to a powerless chorus
calling out from under the heel
of wealth and might -
to be labelled
a soft centered dreamer
of dreams long abandoned
in favor of the more
popular cult of the self's
omniscience.
I find a place somewhere
in the stillness of an evening
and thought by thought, try
to dismantle the pretenses
of who I am
and in that cleared arena
invite the good to speak
and make room for the cries
of the afflicted to rise up
from out of the earth.
I do not know whether
their voices will be heard
or, like sounds carried
on the winds,
slowly exhaust and disperse
into the distances
of an evening
and the greater universe
I don't have the power to make anyone respect me, now my mind is filled with this world, now I just want to live alone
OPPOSITE
NOT
FRIENDS
ANYMORE
FLY ANYWHERE
I DO NOT CARE ANYMORE
ROBERT SHERRIFF 08/07/1954 - AUSTRALIAN - POET -AUTHOR - SINGER - ACTOR - AMERICAN HISTORIAN – PHOTOGRAPHER
Woman’s rights
Like a diamond in the sky
A sparkle in her eye
Never walk or tread down a woman
The greatest asset
God has ever given man
Stand up for women’s
Rights
ROBERT SHERRIFF 08/07/1954 - AUSTRALIAN - POET -AUTHOR - SINGER - ACTOR - AMERICAN HISTORIAN – PHOTOGRAPHER
Woman’s rights
Like a diamond in the sky
A sparkle in her eye
Never walk or tread down a woman
The greatest asset
God has ever given man
Stand up for women’s
Rights