In Devon, Gina was mad at Sarah and so
Took Sarah's kitten, to the kitchen did go
Put it the microwave, pushed the button in
Kitten died in pain, I'd call that a sin.
Two teens in Juniata did the same as a prank
For them its fun, but to me it stank.
Is it something missing in the mind, or converse
A dark side that drives their morals in reverse?
Two teens in Alberta broke into a home, so brave
Smashed it up, put the cat in a microwave
Listened to it scream in pain before it died
Painted two mocking messages on the side.
Two teen girls in Maine put a cat - guess where:
They made a video on social media to share
Sharing cruelty is not very bright
Not every agrees that such deeds are right.
These humans got into trouble, because not all agree:
That fun with cats goes with humanity.
And yet, I eat animals every day
I put out mouse traps, throw dead mice away.
I guess the difference is that I don't want to cause pain
But some people do, though not clinically insane
Its part of the human condition that they are out there
Know your surroundings, take heed and take care.
There are times when nobody can save
You could be that cat in the microwave.
Many fall in love without
presence of mind.
They repeat the mod cliché
that love is blind...
But sensible matchmaking
chooses more feasible soulmates.
Kids need adult supervision
in the matter of dates.
Love is a very special emotion
that causes much commotion
in the heart and soul,
where it has a big role.
Love's possible anytime, anywhere,
and many are caught by it unawares.
But don't let love be just a stupor
from which you wake up in horror.
Don't let love be a one night stand drink
from which you get a hangover.
Committed Love shouldn't be a fad or spell
from which you just get over...
When young minds play their own cupid
To many that has brought heartache and sorrow.
Underage kids dating is even more stupid
They usually regret on the morrow.
Reason doesn't work in a fit of passion.
So its best to love with
your mind and consultation.
Having love affairs without deliberation
is harmful fashion.
Head over heels
without discussion,
with well-wishers
may cause concussion
headache
of so-called lovers...
Use your head before your heart
Not every spark
should start a fire....
“How'd you die?” the therapist asked.
“I don't know," I said.
“Was it a car crash?”
“No, I don't own a car.”
“Was it self-inflicted doom?”
“No, I don't like heights or knives.”
“Was it one of your friends?”
“No, I don't have friends.”
“Was it your parents?”
“No, they're both in jail.”
“Was it your sister?”
“No, she left me, frail”
“Was it the old man you smiled at every morning?”
“No, he passed away with the jury deciding his hearing.”
“Was it-”
“How are you today?” I cut in, smiling,
But no answer came.
For the dry wall before me was never a therapist to acclaim.
If I were free, I wouldn't be.
I wouldn't be who—what I am right now.
I wouldn't be the miscreation I myself despised once
I wouldn't be the stain upon creation I am right now.
If I were free, I'd be six feet under the dirt.
The very dirt I once spurned would spurn me then.
For,I'd be their trespasser.
The bored, the idle, the rich
make up the bulk of the socialists
Ever since Marx, 20, and Hegel, 18
published their 'change-the-world' teenage dreams
My tongue is tied
tinted scarlet windows
that I fly through
as I let my grasp go
from the guide meant for peace.
My chances decrease,
while my dreams do the opposite.
I mix up your silence
with the screams of my hope
to be saved.
I’m depraved
from the touch I long to feel again,
with your voice and face
engraved into my desire
for a better future.
This may seem like a love poem,
but it’s a glove
that holds a situation
a situation of no conversation.
I listened to silence for a sign.
Thinking your eyes said something
your mouth only did once.
My tongue is tied
as I wave goodbye
to the figure
society calls a crush.
His gaze over me
From behind, makes me
To have butterflies
I can’t control how it feels.
After everything,
I just hope I’m not one of your regrets.
But you should have known
we weren’t going anywhere.
You should have known we were doomed
when your replies slowed
and my heart grew loud.
You should have known we wouldn’t last
when I smiled less
and pretended more.
You should have known it was ending
when I stopped asking why —
Because silence is louder than questions.
You should have known it was over
when we started borrowing happiness
from strangers.
You should have known we were beyond saving
when temptation no longer tasted like guilt.
You should have known we were finished
when my name burned on your tongue
and yours stopped feeling like home in mine.
You should have known
when I flinched from your touch
and didn’t reach back.
You should have known it was over
when you planned a future
that didn’t sound like us —
and I imagined one without you.
You should have known.
And I should have known
that silence doesn’t save love.
I tried.
You tried.
We tried.
But we cannot cross an ocean
on a bridge
that was never built for two.
Forbidden Dance
Our voices drown in the low tide of our secrets.
That still paints a silver moon on the ripples of water.
Because it dances between conversations,
Now that the sound of laughter is in the air.
Having arrived at dawn, we can hear our stolen steps begin.
In this escape, a tangled rhythm we share.
We move as one, what a waltz in a forbidden dance.
Between intimacy that’s in succession of secret lovers.
Our souls dance over this forbidden dance.
We knew it wouldn’t last.
Meet me at the tournament,
Nothing words that goes to my consent.
Yeah, I know that a woman like you should include.
But I already did for you as I conclude.
Every move you make,
are pieces you took that hardly for me to take.
For might not be a careless mistake.
But my defeat made my heartache.
Then we meet again
Place is the same, moves that my game went pain.
Surely as I made your rank rise but I fall for you down.
Then you take my place and place your crown.
Now my Mallory that we been together,
Hope today not sooner we matched, as I defeat.
Though you are my mate, but die in check.
I no longer take it back but to resign and retreat.
— Love, Your Knight,
Nolan Sawyer.
(This poem is inspiration from the book of Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood)
Jimmy decided to ask a girl out on a date
but girls are scary, frightening, sometimes mean
Dress up in your suit, his mother said.
Treat her like a lady, said his father.
He had saved up money for a date
was ready as long as neither ate more than ten dollars’ worth of food
His grandmother insisted he come to her house first for pictures
Jimmy felt strange; he knew his smile was goofy
uncomfortable sharing this moment with so many grinning people
walking up to her door, he realized there were millions of steps
and millions of things that could go wrong
“Sorry, they moved, honey”.
This was an old lady
who else would call you honey?
He walked away feeling relieved.
Tired. Tired of writing my name on a page, a name I don't want, a name they call me to taunt.
I'm tired, tired of pretending, I want to cry and scream but no one listens to my pleas, I want to hit and yell but they just talk, like I'm a joke to tell.
I'm tired, tired of hiding, faking a laugh so they don't see me crying, tired of being lied to, like telling the truth would curse you.
I'm tired, tired of this pain, The razor cutting my skin as I drift away, blood seeping from my skin, my head starting to spin.
I'm tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. Tired of your games, the ones I'm forced to play, until you get bored and I'm left in one of your hoards.
I'm tired, tired of life, wishing to die but in the end...I just cry, cut and write goodbyes that won't happen until another lifetime.
I'm tired, tired of crying, lying on my unmade bed, hoping these tears are the last ones to be shed.
These demons in my head urging me to stop my breath, to hurry up to my death. I'm tired, so please let me rest.
When I look at myself
in the mirror, I see an
18-year-old teen who
grew up too young.
10 years before 18,
I was an 8-year-old
girl living off food
stamps and strangers.
10 years before 8,
my mom was 27
and my brother
was born.
10 years before 27,
my mom was 17
and attending a
tailoring school
her uncle had paid.
10 years before 17,
my mom was 7 and
had her first comm-
union. 6 years later,
she would lose
an arm.
50 years later,
I am 28 years old,
and when I look
in the mirror,
I'm still 18 years.
It's been 10 years
since then,
nothing has changed,
not for the better,
not for the worse.
10 years of continuous
time loop and I stay
stranded in my thoughts.
My brother left,
My sisters are still kids,
my parents needing help,
I stay stranded along
the way.
Has God left me since then?
I wish I knew his thoughts,
I wish I knew his plans,
I wish I knew what comes
after this life if at all
I make it.
Sometimes I wonder
if I followed a different
path back then,
would 10 years ago
made a difference?
Red that impedes people from moving
Extra step forward enticing
Dot in red, ceases everything
Yellow that warns and drums
Extra press on the pedal, burns and hums
Leeway to move forward like a wand
Left or right with your foot or hand
Or keep moving as told
Whine when you go beyond the line in bold
Go and keep going
Rev and ride on a Boeing
Exercise discipline and be alive
Exceeding (with caution) the gauge in the hive
Never surrender 'til you get there!
pic show
no show?
she's late
first date
lame gaffe
big laugh
airborne
popcorn
Your tears flow like a river,
You always appear in my deepest slumber.
I only loved you once,
But I lost you at every chance.
We became the closest of friends,
But we broke apart before the story ends.
It hurt me most and turned my heart blue,
These hidden feelings only I and you knew.
You ignited my heart but turned me green,
When I saw the other girl you had chosen to be seen.
Mourn my mind with grief and pain when you chose her,
I guess there is no way to be together.
I planted anger where love once grew with regret,
Desperately wanting my heart to finally forget.
I just want to say what I held from the start —
I love you my Vincent, with all of my heart.
Please remember our friendship if nothing else,
For loving you was the truest thing I ever felt.
Teen Categories
Read wonderful teen poetry on the following sub-topics:
10th grade, 11th grade, 12th grade, 9th grade, anti bullying, bullying, education, emo, emotions, feelings, friend, funny, gender, high school,
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Definition | What is Teen in Poetry?
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