Family Poems | Poems About Families and Relatives

As we approach the celebration of our country's founding, one could view the glass as half empty Or half full. Or one could complain about how far we have yet to go as a nation; Or be divided over injustices and inconsistencies. We could divide ourselves even more into Red and Blue states; Or we could become more blended, like in...

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She started crying in the middle of rages— not the soft kind, but sharp, like she’d cut herself on something I couldn’t see. She slammed drawers. Shouted at a spoon. Broke a plate and sobbed as if the world had cracked with it. Before she left, my mother filled the kitchen with notes written on paper towels— taped to the cupboards, the countertops, the fridge. I couldn’t read, but...

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Water describes a stranger while blood describes a family member This statement has been around for as long as i can remember When it comes to different situations why is this statement used When the truth is when you're in need of help your family has refused Family isn't the the blood it used to be because its been...

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he hid himself in the closet whenever he heard the footsteps in the hall and when that man was in the room he would stare through the open cracks he knew it at the age when others were in playgrounds the fear of a man who called himself his father but nothing like one and only a tyrant a monster who bullied...

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he locked the door of his room closing all entrances, even the windows to stop the monster in his dreams roaming in hall from coming in, he locked the door of his room placed a chair and sat under the table the sound of footsteps was getting loud he just sat there talking to his toys he locked the door of his room he...

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Midnight prayers, don't work. Yesterday's lies Made happiness cry. Today without that mistake, some of us wouldn't be here today. Thats life ...

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she was too innocent to understand anything too small to differ between love and pain so she learned to express what she felt she would lock herself in room with her dolls and take out crayons and began to draw a mother, a child and a man with big hands...

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sitting on the dinner table where instead of food, he was served cold silence turned into words that hurt sitting on the dinner table he was served disappointment from others who questioned his existence sitting on the dinner table his father made a loud thump on the table spewed out his hate he always keep close...

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he is always mad at his own child for the stones that come his way but his child will forever be grateful for what he has done for him he is always mad at his own child the one he raised under his roof to make him into a man, only to crush him under his own trauma now grown into an adult he...

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he hates his family They all had restricted his freedom That’s how he ended up like this With no one to call or visit- and share his deepest thoughts with a friend I won’t say anything or raise questions on someone's intentions because that's who this poet is i made my finest decision to be alone over the dramatic chaos life brings when I'm...

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Not its your turn my pretty to prick your finger on the blade taste the repercussions of what you have set to cause on my fate now it will reflect back to you in the form of time On every watch, every ticking clock In every failed friendship, in every loss. You shall forever remember my name you shall forever remember this...

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There is no strength in fear and flame, naught but the bitterness of blame, which leads us all to guilt and shame, finger pointing and naming names. Better still our hearts to open, forgive and live with hope and honest emotion, a chain of grace unbroken, positive words to be spoken, and put our heart into motion. Easier though to give anger it’s head, to wish...

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I watch it slowly leave the river and enter the Bay, its bow parting the calm with an efficient quiet. Another hour and the ship will be cutting through the swells of the open sea. Men in orange overalls lean on railings at the stern looking back over a long wake. I try to imagine what thoughts are washing across their minds. Perhaps it's the...

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Home, home is a place where you're supposed to feel loved and safe. A place where you can go to get away. When you struggle throughout your day you know you can go and not feel like a castaway. Home, not everyone has one of those.I didn't growing up. I had drug addicts and people who didn’t care...

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Home, home is a place where you're supposed to feel loved and safe. A place where you can go to get away. When you struggle throughout your day you know you can go and not feel like a castaway. Home, not everyone has one of those.I didn't growing up. I had drug addicts and people who didn’t care...

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