Long Foster home Poems
Long Foster home Poems. Below are the most popular long Foster home by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foster home poems by poem length and keyword.
You're as mean as a Grizzly Bear and you think that I'll marry you.
Get that notion out of your head because it's something I won't do.
You're so mean and vicious that you actually broke your own daughter's arm.
You injured her when you were supposed to protect her from coming to harm.
You actually believe that you and I will be man and wife.
I loathe you and I sure as hell don't want you in my life.
When you were only seventeen, you were arrested for aggravated assault.
You've spent over a decade in jail for your crimes and it's entirely your fault.
Getting your daughter put in a foster home is what I'm going to do.
Loving you would be like loving a rattlesnake and I'll never marry you.
(This is a fictional poem)
Continued From:
2. "Quien es?" "Who is it?" Part 2
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195856
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He loved to read. He loved to sing. He loved to dance and even act.
He'd spend many days involved with his school plays.
His mother's death however would put an end to all of that.
Her loving memory probably grieved him all the rest of his short days.
He loved her devotedly and he lost her at a time when she was the whole of his life.
A large part of his heart surely died as he cried
beside his mother at her deathbed that night.
After Mrs Catherine Antrim was laid down to rest,
her two sons would be separated and go from one foster home to the next.
The kid must have wondered if he'd ever again see his brother Joe.
Was Joe his older or younger brother? This is another fact we don't know.
We do know that their step father, one William Antrim ,
abandoned the offspring of his departed wife Catherine.
Catherine knew she was dying and probably married Antrim to insure
that her boys would always have a family and home.
If he promised to care for and love them, his promises weren't pure.
Catherine no sooner died and Antrim was gone.
He wasn't even there on the day that she died,
nor during the days that preceded the end of her suffering pneumonia.
With one last look into their eyes, he gave the brothers their final separate good byes.
William Antrim then left the boys and moved to Clifton, Arizona.
And so began the short and violent life of this unfortunate child.
Legend doesn't accurately portray the brutal harshness of the true life he had lived.
His was the tragedy of a promising young boy, forced to become a man while still a child.
All would one day know him as Billy, the Kid.
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To Continue Go To:
4. Billy, the Kid
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195852
It is to be,
The path that my mother took,
The guiding hand that left her at a tender age,
The foster home that taught her about rage,
The lessons she learned as she turned the pages of each day,
The education she acquired made her diligent, dexterous, and dutiful.
It is to be,
The man my mother met on her journey,
The man she deeply fell in love with,
The man who made her smile in the morning light,
The man who stood by her through the darkest nights,
The man who showed her both the old and new ways.
It is to be,
The tempest that interrupted my family's voyage,
The turbulence that pulled my parents apart,
The stranger who made my mother dwindle,
The mystery she called a riddle.
It is to be,
The end of an era,
The shards and fragments of broken bonds,
The unsent letters my mother wrote,
The songs she sang during her dark days,
Songs of hope and praise.
It is to be,
The man I have become,
The enigma that dwells in my chamber,
The mystery I sometimes confront,
The memories that haunt me,
The untold encounters that have made me bold.
Collaboration with Marcello Eans
Often thought it, never said it.
I’m an heir to Earth, by birth, a world I inherit.
24 hours to live, do I cherish?
Man without vision, a man who’ll soon perish.
Life is my fetish, no worries, no eyes reddish,
Problems & concerns, lightweight like iceberg lettuce.
Do I worry about the weather, whether hot or numb cold?
Rain, sleet, or snow, things out of one’s control.
Career amongst peers, fame, and fortune.
Your name for 15 seconds & you claim your portion.
Mishap in the abortion, escaped with a chance.
A date with destiny, it’s mandatory I dance.
I spent my early years with no parents or family,
Always bouncing from one foster home to another.
Discipline came from movies, that was my reality.
I never knew what it was like to have a mother.
I was never no good in school, often failing.
I didn’t have no friends ‘cause people just hated me.
I didn’t graduate with everyone else in the spring.
I never got no diploma, had to get my G.E.D.
Holding a job for more than a year wasn’t easy.
Robbing banks was the best way for me to survive.
Despite what the jury said, I never killed nobody.
On death row, I spend my days in my new 9 to 5.
Be fine if I die, a candle with a wick that won’t burn.
Naked I came & naked I’m gon’ return.
In my faith, I stand firm, grace freely received.
All things are possible to him who believes.
I'm begging you, please don't hit me again.
I'm not able to defend myself, I'm only ten.
Please don't hit me again, it hurts both physically and emotionally.
I don't deserve to be hit and if you were in my shoes, you'd agree.
My emotional scars can never be removed because of what you've done.
You've been a terrible father but I haven't been a terrible son.
Please don't hit me again, your blows bruise my body and make me bleed.
Being taken out of this house and put in a foster home is exactly what I need.
(Even though this is a fictional poem, many children are victims of child abuse. If you see a child being abused, please do what you can to stop it.)
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
If you ask for him long enough
The devil will come
Beneath your feet
I’ll lie and I’ll reek
Think of me and remember
The consequences
Of not turning thy right cheek
On and on, in search of a home I seek
Orphan grounded beneath your feet
Ask for the devil long enough
And I will come
Foster home to foster home
Trying to match my teeth
With marks from a pre-bitten wall
Clustered and alone
Never mind my posture, I’m grown
Beneath thy ark these journalist have rewritten my fall
This day today, this day yesterday
This day tomorrow, I will await your call
If you ask for him long enough
The devil will come
My peace is death
I’ll come again
I’ll come for your sins
Summoned by everyman
I give to you,
Your every materialistic wish
For there is nothing in all that I demand
Rejection chain reaction
New Born Male Child
A babe suffering during while
A Mother who wanted her son to die
Heaven’s intervention rise
The new born experienced Asthma, Yellow Jaundice and Malnutrition
The birth weight way below normal circumstances
Life surrounding was uncertain
Doctors are given up hope
Assurance was no cope
Doctors calculated that the babe will only live to 7 in longevity
They told the family to prepare for a funeral and not become attached, but if I lived on it would be God’s will
The Doctors suggested that I put in a Foster Home, but my Grandparents stepped in
Foster Home ruled out
Fast forward through the years, the babe grew up to a teenager of 17 and beyond
The Male teenager spend many weekends with his mother who didn’t want him
The Mother often said she wanted a Girl
No fault on my part, I just became the end product what God wanted me to be
She would cuss and chastise the son for no apparent reason
It was always criticism and negativity that came from the mother to the son
There was definitely a wall of a barrier between the mother and son with love nowhere to be found
The son was blamed for his mother not marrying the internal father
How does a child who didn’t ask to be born being the problem?
The Yellow Jaundice had changed the pigmentation of skin to Caucasian, but that was only briefly when I was born
To this day, the son feels no love and doesn’t extend love to his mother
There used to be a lot of anger and bitterness, but since has been released
Carrying plenty of tension throughout the years
The son prayed to the Lord in honesty in stating he didn’t love his mother
The Lord’s response, “Just respect her”
There were times the son hated himself thinking it was a mistake in him being born
There was even a thought of suicide attempt
A Mother who is not even proud of what her son who is independent, Graduated from college and Self-Alliant has become
The son will always believe a mother wanted to kill her son while she was barring with all her smoking, and stated quote “I would of had an abortion done when abortions weren’t even heard of back then
Yet, a son who is ever proud and achieved greatness in life under the Lord’s eyes.
As a child in days gone by
Mother’s rod was swift but sure
Many a weal as time went by
Scarred my skin an ugly blue.
Nagging was the way of life
My mother used to lay the rule
Not a day did I cry
Child abuse, nor reported it at school.
Father’s hands lay thick and strong
A whopping blow upon my hide
On the day I failed at sums
That slap brought answers quick to mind.
Even when I pouted and sulked
Cups or shoes came flying high
Never ever missed the target
That mother’s aim intended to strike.
No words were kind
When I did wrong
No sparing the rod to spoil the child
Discipline the child was a daily song.
Today the cry is child abuse
For which society has no use
Put the child in a foster home
To grow up to be another deviant one.
Is it wise to spare the rod?
Or better yet to talk with the child?
Still mother’s way did well for me
To talk and live like a Jesus child.
I go to classes and everybody cheers.
The teacher is cheering the loudest of all, the kids laugh at this.
I am her thirty minute break, and it is a time for me to play with
children who needed one also.
You are funny! They tell me. We love you, one says.
Some run to me and hug my butt, and stuff.
I do not k now about funny, but I get to know them now
so when their grandma dies, or their cat spits up a mouse in front of them
and they cry uncontrollably, I can lead them away, to a safe place to
show their feelings.
I went to check in with my gangster six-year-old yesterday. We will call
him Tony. I have been checking in with him on a regular basis, as he
is sometimes in trouble, at home, in a bad place. In my twenty-three
years as a school counselor I had never picked up a kindergartener who
said this to me:
“I do not want to go with you.” Eyes glaring.
“Come on,” I coaxed him. “We will play a game or something.”
When we approached my office door he turned and warned me. “Why do you want to know about my business?”
I was shocked. Savvy at five; wow!
“I don’t,” I replied, “I want to learn about you.”
Our conversations after a week led the authorities to his house. They rescued him from a bad dad,
and a stand-by-and-watch-mom. He was given to grandma that night, which NEVER happens.
I went to get him yesterday. He refused to come. This surprised me. On his way out, he
gave the teacher and I his saddest, maddest, most angry face.
Two seconds before we reached the door, I turned to see him
pull another child out of his chair and throw him into a wall.
He is back with dad.
Thank you Social Services.
Great job.