Some say children should be seen not heard
But out of the mouth of babes poignant words
Kids are often innocent observers who play
Never really know just what they’ll say
Tact they haven’t mastered yet
They don’t mean to make you upset
They ask questions and state their view
Sometimes they bring forth a teal truth
Kids who witness trauma are always affected
Laws in society should help them be protected
So many foster kids need a forever home
Resources for them are needed it’s known
But the people who are supposedly pro life
Don’t often adopt or foster or even try
To make these kids feel loved not alone
It’s not their fault they have been wronged
Kids are little people with ideas and dreams
As they grow it’s important we meet kids needs
Foster care
Foster care
All the pain they had to bare
Taken away from their family so young
And put in a place they didn't belong
Some taken away from sisters and brothers
Some taken away from just their mothers
Some beaten, some bruised
Some taken away with nothing to lose
At age 18 you're kicked out to live
But I don't know what they give
Cause I was adopted at the age of 2
And hopefully you'll get adopted too!
Falling in between family cracks
Only with shirt on your back
Sometimes life is incredibly wacked
The adults mistakes mean life is bad
Even though it’s not your fault
Racking brain with what you said
Keeping hope seems a lost cause
In time so angry you see red
Defying the odds determined to be
Someone powerful when grown and free
Rest and celebrate
Protecting my mental health
Decorative lights
My eyes are yours
From the depths of the sea
To it jagged rocky or sandy shores.
My cup is open ready to be poured into
Both me and you. Lets fill each other and feel
Renewed.
For you have my full support in all that you
Chaise to pursue.
My eyes are yours when you lose you vision
And you are unclear about your mission.
Indecisive on your divine calling so you waver on
Each. And every decision.
My eyes are yours when
you can’t see the ceiling from the floor.
When your soul feels unfulfilled screaming for more.
Let me be your eyes young one. Teach you all that I know
Open the flood gates and let you creative sense of wonder
Flow.
We plant these seeds of poetries and with rains of wisdom
Watch your expression mature and grow.
Rise my dear hug my soul for the birds and I sing
To the sky beyond our realm for only eternal ancestral guides
Know.
The beauty of hope and joy renew every hope
And enjoy the rise of very new sunrise.
When my eyes become yours.
When I tell my story, the past unwinds.
Poet me
Poetry
That’s the treasure that you find.
A narrative woven from threads
of joy and tears, As words flow forth
like a river's stream I relive each moment,
relive each dream The highs and lows,
the twists and turns A story of growth,
of lessons learned
When I tell my story, I find my voice
Whether you listen or not that’s your choice
I said whether I like me or not, that's your choice.
At the end of the day I will tell my story
I rise with the sun
I let my melanin glow
Rhyming and vibing as
If I did it before.
where every thread is a memory,
a moment, a choice.
The fabric of my past is fragile,
prone to unraveling,
yet resilient,
for it has shaped the person I am today.
I find solace in the knowledge
that I am not alone
With each spoken word,
I confront the ghosts that haunt me,
In my mental home.
When I tell my story, memories unfold,
With every word, a chapter's spun,
Of laughter, tears, and lessons learned, begun.
Disconnected
In a world woven with wires,
I stand still,
a stranger in the hum of voices,
the glow of screens reflecting
a pale loneliness against my skin.
Friendships flicker like dying flames,
texts sent into the void,
echoes of laughter lost
in the thrum of busy signals,
each notification a reminder,
of the spaces that grow deeper,
instead of filling with warmth.
How fragile the bridge of connection,
laid across the chasms of silence,
where hearts beat out of sync,
and the faces we see
are mere pixels,
floating just beyond our reach.
I reach for you,
but my fingers touch only
the cool glass of a phone,
a promise of something genuine,
shattered by the speed of life,
like leaves swept in a gust,
unanchored, unbound.
Yet in this disarray,
I yearn for the days
when laughter rolled,
unfiltered and free,
and eyes met without barriers,
in the sun’s embrace,
where distance was simply
a flat horizon,
and warmth was felt,
not imagined.
But the world keeps spinning,
tethered by threads of technology,
as I stand here yearning,
a spirit adrift,
seeking the shores
of connection once more.
Words dance across the canvas of my mind,
Brushstrokes of meaning, colors of sound.
In poetry's rhythm, art is defined
Where image and language are forever bound.
The painter speaks in textures, light, and shade,
The poet paints with metaphor and rhyme.
Both cast their visions that will never fade,
Standing defiant against the rush of time.
A sonnet blooms like petals on display,
A portrait captures silence between breaths.
Each stanza and stroke has something to say
Of beauty that outlives a thousand deaths.
In galleries of verse and painted dreams,
We find ourselves reflected in the streams.
A nobody but I'm somebody in the vast cosmic dance,
Just one small spark, yet burning with resilient light.
I walk unseen through crowded streets, a passing glance,
A whispered name forgotten with the fading night.
Yet in my quiet moments, worlds expand within,
My thoughts create universes none have ever known.
The smallest acts of kindness—where legends begin,
From tender seeds of nothing, mighty trees have grown.
A nobody to history's grand, unfolding page,
But somebody to those whose lives I've gently touched.
A heartbeat in the rhythm of this fleeting age,
A single drop of rain that makes the garden lush.
So call me insignificant, I won't protest—
For in this seeming smallness, I have found my rest.
A nobody but somebody—perhaps that's best,
When being truly human is life's only test.????????????????
In the spaces between heartbeats,
Where time stretches thin as spring leaves of poet-trees
blowing in the breeze,
I catch glimpses of you living
In a universe adjacent to mine.
There, the sky burns violet at dawn,
And trees grow downward, reaching
For a core of molten starlight
While gravity plays different songs.
You drink tea made from moonflowers,
Write letters with crystallized rain,
And speak in colors I can only taste
I press my palm against the membrane
That keeps our realities distinct.
Feel it pulse like a living thing
Between dimensions, between dreams.
Sometimes, when the barriers grow weak,
I swear I can hear your laughter
Echo across the cosmic divide,
A melody in quantum frequencies.
Perhaps one day the walls will thin,
The boundaries between worlds dissolve,
And we'll meet in that strange space
Where impossible things become real.
Until then, I'll keep watching
For traces of your existence
Collecting evidence of parallel lives
In the corners of my consciousness.
Liberty on a pedestal but her chains are hidden
We built our walls of fear, not stone,
And called them safety, called them home.
While liberty stood watching, mute,
As we forged golden shackles to
Protect ourselves from phantom threats.
The eagle with clipped wings still soars
In memory and faded song,
But cannot reach the heights once known
When boundless skies invited flight.
We trade our voices for a peace
That echoes hollow in the night.
Each right surrendered—small at first—
Until the weight of all we've lost
Becomes the chain we drag behind.
Silent statues weep at dusk,
Their copper dreams corroded now.
Freedom's torch extinguished by
The very hands that raised it high.
Yet hope remains in whispered words,
In those who question, those who stand.
For liberty, though bound, still breathes
And waits for hands to break these chains.????????????????
Written: February 28, 2024, for Contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
***************
Encourage achievement and appreciate improvement
I let my pen guide me, as I pour out my soul
In this poem, I find solace, to be a form of art.
It's a way to make sense of this crazy world
To find meaning in the chaos, to be unfurled
In the rhythm and flow of each verse
I find peace, a sense of purpose
So here I am, with this poem in hand
A piece of me, that I hope you'll understand
For in these words,
The stage is set, the mic is on
The spotlight shines, all eyes upon
The poet pouring their soul out loud
A shared experience, in the crowd
To break free from the chains of society
And speak our truth with complete propriety
With each breath and every pause
The emotions rise, like a raging cause
Weaving tales of love, pain, and hope
A journey through life on an invisible rope
I have weathered storms,
and fought through the night,
For I know that within me,
Lies an unbreakable might.
In the spaces between heartbeats,
Where time stretches thin as gossamer,
I catch glimpses of you living
In a universe adjacent to mine.
There, the sky burns violet at dawn,
And trees grow downward, reaching
For a core of molten starlight
While gravity plays different songs.
You drink tea made from moon flowers,
Write letters with crystallized rain,
And speak in colors I can only taste
I press my palm against the membrane
That keeps our realities distinct.
Feel it pulse like a living thing
Between dimensions, between dreams.
Sometimes, when the barriers grow weak,
I swear I can hear your laughter
Echo across the cosmic divide,
A melody in quantum frequencies.
Perhaps one day the walls will thin,
The boundaries between worlds dissolve,
And we'll meet in that strange space
Where impossible things become real.
Until then, I'll keep watching
For traces of your existence
Collecting evidence of parallel lives
In the corners of my consciousness.
I gather my fragments like stars in the night,
Each shard holds a memory, dimmed but still bright.
Some pieces I cherish, some I let go—
The weight of their presence is no longer in tow.
With patience and purpose, I forge something new,
Not quite what I was, but steadfast and true.
Each crack tells a story of falling and rise,
Each mend makes me stronger, each break makes me wise.
My edges are different, some smooth and some raw,
But this is my beauty, my strength, and my law:
That breaking is not the ending, but chance to begin—
To build something stronger from all that has been.
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.