Stepson Poems | Examples

Retirement

67 years 8 months, you are now of age
What achievements have you to gage
Married twice children there are four
What legacy is left as you walk out the door

Bowler. Firefighter, part time clown
Carpenter, DPW worker, man with a frown
Wonderful daughter, 2 boys and one stepson
To most this would be a lottery won

A failed engagement, divorce, a marriage of 41 years
Look back on my life, bring on the tears
Take a good long look and you clearly see
 sixty-seven years, not where you thought you’d be

Clock counting down, retirement looms
A new chapter in life about to bloom
Pension set, financially sound
Damn I am not ready to just sit around

Girls Cannot Get Along in Threes

Three preteen girls tried to be friends with each other
They will never be able to do it, says Dorthea’s brother
Never say never, warns his savvy sage stepmother.
Wisely saying nothing, is David, Dorthea’s brother.

David has noted that girls do not get along in threes.
They want a bestie, and one is always feeling left out.
He waits for the fireworks, which happens with these.
One of the girls storms out of the house, with an angry shout.

What happened to her? Asks the stepmother, truly confused.
David keeps his mouth shut, but he understands the shout.
The fact that he is smarter than her, makes him feel amused.
She is one of three, says the stepson, it never works out.

Boys can get along fine in three; they never stomp out.
That is true of boys, but not of girls, David said.
Girls pair off in twos, and one is always feeling left out.
His stepmother decided to put this new knowledge into her head.

Grease on the Stone

I was more of a step stone than a stepson
a tiny stone leading to the heart of my father.

You played the game well... though
squeezing a ring from the coal of his lonely heart.

So, there I was minced by little boy blue grief
then tossed into your beehive whirlwind.
You wisely hid your wicked side...young bride...
Many times, playing hopscotch on my hide.

The lessons to make me into a man
started around six,,, I recollect
Scrubbing those greasy plastic dishes
until they were no longer slick.
You knew that it was an impossible task
for six-year-old hands.
So over and over and over again 
you'd plop that greasy plastic back into the suds...
until well past dusk... 
(Now, even as a man, it's always well past dusk.}
I became more like your whetstone.
something to sharpen your barbes upon.  

I'm still waiting for karma to change the color of your hide.
Make you scrub a freighter filled with your greasy plastic lies.

Sunny Afternoon

There we sat, a sunny afternoon
The barbie lit, not quite enough flame
Her father fans it, wife tries to explain
Happy families. Two language game
I’ve nothing in common, forgotten their name.

I let myself go, release my sarcastic mood
We’re all inane smiles personified polite
He’s waving at the barbie dust on the food
My wife hangs on to her rage a soaring kite
Mother and son know not the time to be rude

Daughter-in-law’s parents, peasants afar
My stepson, squirming, cursing his luck
New allies for her, from now on life will suck
Mum kisses his head, he’s her pride and joy
His life’s anonymous, she cuddles her boy.

Andrea Sonneteer

I had wanted to celebrate Andrea Dietrich’s special birthday with a tribute poem. She celebrated reaching that age of retirement many long for. At the time I was dealing with the loss of my son and the hospitalization of my stepson who was gravely ill and her birthday, September 5th, passed me by. Now that I am in a much better place I wrote this sonnet to give her a belated birthday gift. We have been friends for over twenty years. We met through our love of poetry.
Happy Belated Birthday dear Andrea.

Andrea Sonneteer 

Poetess, your light shines brighter each year.
You teach your students with a stellar touch
With pride in your profession it is clear.
In their minds you instill and inspire much.

As an editor and author you give
Generously of your wisdom and time,
Sharing your knowledge in ways that you live.
Your gourmet delights you share are sublime.

Your love of traveling always shines through
Exquisite imagery, your creations
Are romantic and dreamy it is true,
Your poetry exceeds expectations.

This humble sonnet I’ve written for you
To wish you the best of birthdays come true.

1-24-22

We Should Introduce These Two

Shimmy was startled to see her son Will at noon.
I thought you started your new job today, she said.
I packed you a lunch.

I got so nervous, I left it there, he replied.
Can you make me a grilled cheese sandwich?
Her husband, Jake, started to speak, but her look quelled him.

After lunch she offered to drive Will back to his job site.
I don’t have one he admitted. I kind of walked out.
Jake’s face steamed over; he left the room.

I lied to my brother; I told him that Will would make a good employee.
“Is there anyone else who would hire him?” she asked.
Will had already walked off five jobs and been fired from six more.

No, Jake replied. “Nobody”.
Shimmy had spoiled her son so hard, that he was not employable.
Jake would not have married her if he had met Will first.

Will, it is time you grew up, Jake said to Will that night.
Will began to cry; Shimmy patted his back, glaring at Jake.
Jake went to his friend Fred’s house.

“Stepson again?” Fred asked.
Jake nodded.
“Daddy, I want some milk,” Fred’s daughter Monica whined.
As Fred poured it, Jake wondered if they should introduce Will and Monica.
They were both forty-two.

Michael

A wilted violet bows its pretty purple head,
Like me it has no energy as sorrow pleads.
My love, once so pure and vibrant now is dead.
My heart filled with passion, stilled, it bleeds.

I cannot bring him back though it would seem
I sometimes find him young and happy still,
So alive and handsome in a treasured dream.
If only I could conjure those dreams at will.

I often think that I can feel his spirit near,
With knocking sounds and blinking lights.
Late eves or early morn I hear his voice so clear.
I try so hard to connect with him those nights.

Sometimes I hold his watch and other things
I feel they retain vibrations of his energy.
I think of him surrounded by angel wings
And I know he is at peace with family.

10-07-21

This poem is about my husband Michael who passed away July 29, 2020
My son Robby passed away recently May 29, 2021 he was 44

I wrote a blog about my stepson Michael Jr. who is now in a nursing home slowly getting better thanks to all of your prayers. I know it seems confusing. 

**Thank you very much Team Poetry Soup for the honor of POTD 
Oct. 9, 2021**

The Bare Handed Mole Toss

Though you might think I seem country
And there's a lot of that in my roots
I was raised metropolitan,
Not much on plows, guns and boots!

Once when my stepson came over
To cut up a fallen tree for wood
I happened to see a dead mole
Right next to my feet, where I stood

My wife said, "Just get rid of it!"
I asked, "Is there a bag around?",
"Maybe some gloves or a tissue?"
About then my stepson looked down

He suddenly picked up that mole
And then tossed it into the trees
That gave me a chill all over,
Without even having a breeze!

My wife laughing, didn't really help
My known lowest of self esteems 
Showing that in no uncertain terms
I'm not the mole tosser of her dreams!

The Red Dots On His Face

My stepson was doing Meth and had red dots on his face.
I told him that I don't allow drug users to live at my place.
I immediately knew he was doing Meth because of the red dots.
He lied when he said that he had the measles, I knew he did not.
My ex-wife said if her son wasn't welcome in my home, neither was she.
She thought that her son's drug use wasn't a big deal and she left me.
But now she agrees that it was stupid when her son did Meth.
Last month, he overdosed and it caused his untimely death.
What I'm about to say isn't a lie, it is real.
Please say no to drugs because drugs kill.

Honest Abe

Honest

Wrestler, self-taught lawyer, eloquent writer/orator, and man of integrity.

Son of Nancy Hank and Thomas Lincoln; beloved stepson of Sarah Bush.

Lover of books, animals and a good joke!

He felt empathy for the downtrodden and sadness, yet the need to persevere.

He feared slavery’s expansion, the collapse of democracy and failed leadership.

He wanted feedom for the slaves, freedom for women and a better world.

Born in Kentucky, he gained experience in IL., and fulfilled his destiny in D.C.

Abe



(Dedicated to my Hero, Abraham Lincoln. He also wrote a little poetry!)

3 Months In Jail

a nurse,4kids and a stepson,
then came the crystal meth.

she used it and liked it,
men beat her bloody and they loved it.

the highs helped the lows,
the lows of a drunken husband of 14 yrs
and a father doing 60 yrs in prison
for rape of his younger daughter.

3 months in jail with women just like her,
3months in jail with women worse then her.

the tattoo behind her leg said it all
"TAINTED".

Now I'M Pissed!!!!!

My adopted son Michael
Left Sunday to go fight this war
I'm wrapping up some loose ends
There's so much more

Mike owes his step dad money 
for a car in which the engine is now blown
I can't keep it here with me
So I asked Ed to pick up what he rightfully owns

The swearing came
Full blast over my phone
Unbelievable profanity
From this mans heartless tone

Where is that a--hole!
He still owes $900 dollars!
I don't need the f---ing car!
He just kept up the hollers

Sir, please pick up your car
You have the title from what I know
I don't know when Mike is coming back
If you don't, it will have to be towed

I'll ring his lieing F---ing neck
A--hole owes me, I want the s--t when he gets out
I'm not f---ing taking a f---ing car
He was just a solid continuous shout

This is why Mike 
Is my stepson I do believe
And now he's fighting for my right
To kick his step dads a-- if him I see

I said "I know it's not right
But the car belongs to you.
Thank you for your time.
I'm sure he hates you too"

That is why he is MY son!

Nintendo Wii

(This is a fictional poem)

I bought my rotten stepson a Nintendo Wii.
But then the jerk also wanted me to buy him a Playstation 3.
I told him that money doesn't grow on trees.
When I didn't buy it, he decided to do something bad to me.
He broke all of my records and he smashed my big screen TV.
That pissed me off so I returned his Nintendo Wii.
He's bawling his eyes out, it's a sight that you should see.
I told him if he breaks anything else, I'll put him over my knee.

Joe

IM SORRY YOU HAD TO GO
I CANT UNDERSTAND WHY
I KNEW THAT SOMEDAY YOU HAD TO DIE
BUT WHY IN THIS WAY I DONT UNDERSTAND
A GOD FEARING ,GOOD MAN
ONLY YOUR CLOSEST FAMILY MOURNS YOUR DEATH
THE ONES WHO WERE THERE WITH YOU JUST UP AND LEFT
GOD GOT YOU BACK NOW AND HE DO UNDERSTAND
THE ONES WHO TOOK YOUR LIFE A STEPSON,MAN
WHAT COULD HAVE WENT SO WRONG IN YOU"RE LIFE TO SEE
YOUR STEPSON SHOOT YOU IN YOUR BACK AND WALK AWAY FREELY

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