Haughty hefty Helga has healthy hatred
Igniting ignorant Inga’s inebriated idiocy
Justifying jealous Julie’s juvenile judgements
Kindling crafty Kara’s crazy critter-like craftiness
Leaving Lonesome Larry loathing lofty lying Leland
Making Malicious maltreated Mallory manageable
Nasty negativity nonchalantly noticeable in Neverland.
Categories:
maltreated, word play,
Form: ABC
Sitting here in this dark room
Here we're all darkness rules
There over by the shoe rack
Is the reality clear and stark
That I will never be loved
Nor will I be gentle as a dove
I've lost my book through and my father's wife
There is no compassion present in my life
I am forever maltreated fearlessly
And hate rules my life dominantly
This building cannot be called a home
And mine is forever a hopeless dome
And now I am forever helpless
Never to be loved for I am loveless
Categories:
maltreated, anger, child abuse, childhood,
Form: Rhyme
Tatters, a tall funny clown
Is so famous in town
Always at a birthday party
Making kids extremely happy
But every trick or joke he makes
A disguise of his heartaches
Brought by his painful past
Grown at streets, feeling outcast
Parents died when he was ten
Adopted, abused and maltreated
He left home and went astray
His life went miserable everyday
Trying to cover up his sadness
Works at carnivals for madness
Entertaining people at parties
Loud laughter conceals
Within his bright costume
Are tattered clothes and soul
Struggling to hide his gloom
While trying to cheer us all
Jan 11, 2023 8.05am
This poetry contest is closed. Enter a new contest here: Poetry Contests
SECOND CHANCE
Contest Judged: 1/18/2023 1:39:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Place: 8 ( order 1,3,5,8,10, HM in multi-w)
Categories:
maltreated, sad,
Form: Rhyme
I am more than scarred flesh,
and spirit.
I am more than the memories of his pugnacious tone,
and invective words.
I am more than my poor choices,
more than the flashbacks tearing at my soul.
I am more than just a victim,
more than my own malefaction.
I am more than the agony,
and desolation of being misunderstood,
I am more than all assumptions,
more than judgement.
I am more than a truant friend,
more than the maltreated.
I am more than the rejected one,
the disappointed one.
I am more than what you think I am,
or who you think I should be.
I am a woman. A mother. A wife.
I am a survivor. A giver. A taker.
A smiling face.
I am a solitary tear, hanging on for dear life.
I am a mystery.
I am imperfect. Broken.
But there is even more to me.
More than even I know.
Categories:
maltreated, abuse, anti bullying, emotions,
Form: Free verse
================
I am an African boy
I was carved from the chocolate melanin of the African soil
Tutored under the iroko tree by her grand sages
Baptised in the palm wine of Bomi hills
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I was creamed with the coconut oil from cape coast
Explored the shores of the Atlantic Ocean
Taught to walk on the golden sand of the Sahara
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I was maltreated for my hospitality
Humiliated for my humility
Discriminated for the color of my skin
But I remain the pride of my race
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I am not the one written in the history books of the colonist
neither their so called ‘lesser being’
I am the best and only version of me
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I am the brother of Cesaire and Senghor
Cousin of Diop, nephew of Nkrumah
Grandson of Blyden
I stand for black pride in the world today
I am an African boy
Categories:
maltreated, africa, culture, identity, pride,
Form: Free verse
I am black
Dark black in my skin
I have never thought of changing it
Or improving it in their eyes-
They that named me as a beast
They that maltreated me with their minds
They that enslaved, and hated me with all the books they know
I am still black.
I am black
Dark black is my skin
Black beauty is truly natural
They that said black is all bad
I have never hated my black skin
Mix all the colours of the rainbow
The colour you find is black
But as I was preaching black beauty
I heard my own dark black brother say,
“Black man with black sense”
Oh what a pity…
I had to cry.
Categories:
maltreated, 5th grade, color, prejudice,
Form: Blank verse
These scars upon my wrist, fresh and wet,
Harsh actions displaying my love,
When sorry is the only word she cannot accept,
The only way I know is for me to feel the hurt,
Grown to feel discarded and left all alone,
Drowning in uncertainty of my roots,
Anarchy apparent from a broken home,
Unknowing destruction that follow suits,
I am loving yet at times I turn,
Into a monster of buried fear and emotions.
I am good but at times, you pushed me too far,
Cigarette burns and bruises do not scar,
This is who we are, broken and trashed,
Abused when young, maltreated are we?
Love is hidden in the anger I lashed,
Becoming a man I hope never to be.
I am sorry to have cause you pain,
Written by ancient history these wounds I've inflicted,
Yet my scars do not appear faint,
To save you, the victim will be evicted.
19 November 2015
Categories:
maltreated, abuse, love,
Form: Rhyme
The risk added excitement at the time,
Admittedly a conscious decision was made to commit a crime.
Not yielding to ethical thought,
Reluctant to believe that the transgression would be caught.
Self-assured I say ....weep not.
Disjoining, conviction, and separation of family,
Sustaining the ability to hold on to sanity.
Not inclined to allow the flowage to over run,
Conceding to the occurrence; as the moon to the sun.
Ambiguously I say ...weep not.
Stepping into a cement six by six,
The grey and white walls suffocating, as my eyes become fixed.
Stretching out on a narrow bank, hands cradling my head,
Paralyzed with deep immersed reflection of pending dread.
Actuality I say ...weep not.
Releasing feelings of being maltreated after death,
The seasonal matter has been put to rest.
A moral discretion occurred but I am still alive,
To conquer over an erroneous deviation, I thrive.
Subsequently I say ...weep not.
@ Tunisia Torres
2/2/2009
Categories:
maltreated, confusion, faith, hope, recovery
Form: Lyric
Humming wind in a wider sky,
Turbulent perhaps catastrophic omen.
Thy born a curse of a forlorn life,
conceal nor run tranquil dim will bloom.
Stare those hands, repulsive, fracture
Mirrored of the vulnerable surrender.
Eyes that dehydrated from lengthy groan,
Mystified encountered amid spirit and mind.
Mountainous, could forest perhaps deserted…
It ought to be a dwelling for holy or ideal war?
After an unremitting weapon detonation,
immature remains lay down holding a gun.
Ballet of an erotic refinement…
Blushing powdered faced, vermilion lips
String clad, afterward bare – naked…
Annoying hide of a girl to a woman.
Stones lump for less broader shoulder,
either insignificant foot undefended.
Speculating, bewildered conceivably asking…
Skirmishing manhood yet not developed.
Enfolded through maltreated,
Saunter thru into a nearly end…
Incarcerated by an illusionary masks
Uproar thus cried… Yes, I am a child!
Categories:
maltreated, sad
Form: Narrative