Nobody is immune to it.
It happens when we least expect it.
Criminals have got their eye on you.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Why I am a victim?
This life is not a victory cup
For me. I accepted this fate
But, please, fate, give a way
Give better chances to finish
End my tour in this existence
Let me leave. Noble memory
You are cruel, I forgive, a bye
FATE, Please organise a life
I love you, cruel life, say kind
Why did you put me up for this?
To victim
In this life?
Oh my stars, oh my lord
I got my tongue tied with a cord
Near the crowd; among the people—
Stitch my lips up with a needle.
Shut the door now, stop the creaking
Or the grandma will start shrieking
Stop the marriage, kill the firstborn
Don’t care if that makes my mother mourn.
Hide the faces, sweep the floor
Shake the sin out of your core
If the father finds you cheating
You won’t escape without a beating.
Keep the words now, stuff them in
Let the baby choke within.
Make the plant grow, now pluck it out
Weep with sorrow, mingle with doubt.
Past midnight, lock the door
Step outside, are you sure?
Stuck hard, buried deep
Wear that skirt, aren't you cheap?
Bite down your cheeks till blood runs thin
See the righteous point and grin;
Pray to God, then hide the bruise
In this house, you always lose.
February 28th. It was like any other day.
When she washed her face and
looked in the mirror, she didn't know she was leaving
the earth.
She was only 9 years old, and her sister, 11, died there too. After
reading her story,
I studied her picture
and began to form a bond with her. I
imagined her at her graduation, with beaming pride.
How did she die, instantly I hope.
Her smile haunts me, and I 'm now fixated on the prayer
around her neck, wondering why it did n't protect her?
I still believe miracles happen.
A past the soul, eats
Memories of people
Event of many seats
Rained on. the steeple
Church prepped proper
Pews filled, flowers decked
White gowned, the monster
The future not yet wrecked
Confetti and photo shoot
A grand reception follow
Live band and MC to boot
Something, rings hollow
Joined in unholy union
Stoic empath and diva
For now, in communion
Twixt novelty driven fever
The mirror will break
Pierfect no more
Prisoners to take
To a distant shore
Blame games ensue
Victim turns villain
The truth to lose
Years two score ,fill in
Hurl the applecart
of crimson corruption
deep into a vortex
that whirs remorseless
and grinds to carbon
the bellowing chaos
spewed by mortals
voracious for victims.
Dread not the tremors
and tumult of wraiths
clamoring with poison fangs
to devour the light.
The world's oldest profession
is considered a crime
yet only the females therein engaged
are arrested fined or serve time
to all concerned
it's a business transaction
ain't nobody's but their own
providing satisfaction
money's the motive
with payment surrendered
and they have the means
for services rendered
but altho' the women may not have been kissed
if all involved are consenting adults
a victim here does not exist
Void is the life that many do live.
Incessant are the voices shouting.
Calamity rains down in daily affairs.
Totality, existence, is lent to the man.
Idolatry, sexism, persecution runs deep.
Memories recoil and replay to displace healing.
Two narratives juxtaposed between breaths.
One a victim, the other, survivor.
Sentiments aren't toward recovery today.
Underneath the toxicity, one can though, still find solace.
Reviving past culture, living simply, within one's means.
Voicing concerns conscientiously.
Inciting positive change through law.
Venting with righteous anger to bring peace.
Obeying routine, structure and discipline.
Recovery is possible; so become the change you long to see.
01.06.2026
(A poem a day)
Darkness …
He opens his eyes
Confusion?
He is surprised
A badge. A uniform. An officer?
Memory - please remember
Blood, now dried, blood, he cried
The streets - where have they gone
He remembers a gun
Memories come pouring in …
He remembers being a victim
He is dead, the cause -
police brutality
When all is said and done:
Who is the victim?
Who is the victor?
The harassed
Or
the one who harassed?
The one who bore it all quiet?
Or
The one who quietly retaliated?
Either way,
at times I feel
I am the loser .
How have you been, tell me the news,
first, where did you buy those kinky shoes?
Victim of fashion, prisoner of fad,
for better or worse, mad about it, good or bad.
Heard you're doing fine, have it made,
but, when did you get those slinky shades?
Modern mode, sartorial style, captured by trends,
it goes on for ever and never ends.
What have you done, relate all the facts,
now, where did you find that fancy hat?
New York, London, what's in what's not,
Paris or Rome, who calls the shots?
Moving up in the world, you have a chance,
tho', when did you purchase those swanky pants?
Who knows what goes on behind the scenes,
in all those glossy magazines?
Life rests solely on loss and luck's setup,
Tempting you to either win or mess up
Upon chances, stake boldly;
Not hoping the best coldly...
While holding onto heavenly backup.
Something I seem to notice
No matter what you do wrong none of it matters
Because of your ‘big heart’
But I think you need to start seeing that
You’re not the victim
Why do you always think that you’re the victim?
All you do is inflict
You say you ‘loved me like your own’
But the only love you’ve ever shown
Isn’t something I’d like to have known
So why must you hurt me and then act like
You’re the victim
You’re not the victim
Please get that through you’re screwed up head.
You’re not the victim
All you’ve done is inflict
So much pain upon me
Even when it’s good
It always ends bad
So I must ask
Why must you act like you’re the victim
You’re not the victim maybe it’s too complex
Maybe you’re too perplexed
To understand that maybe
You’re not the victim
I feel like the victim
The victim (humor)
I was in my fifties when women found me desirable
And I became a victim of their lust.
The wife of a friend of mine came in as I came out
of the bathroom starkers.
I'm a moral person, but this was an unavoidable situation
So we ended up in bed until she fainted.
Women talk, I got a call from a woman who had a swimming pool
In the backyard, I drove there, but she wanted more
And more she got until she fell exhausted asleep.
I drove home, and my old girlfriend was outside my house
She was drunk, wanted more wine, I gave it to her, and she demanded
sex, happily, she fell asleep when she awoke, she thought
We had had sex, she had a shower, and wanted white wine
before driving home, kissing me warmly, asked me if she was
Good in bed reassured her that she was the best.
It was as if my sex life had reached a crescendo, a heart surgery
stabilized my emotional life; I should have taken the women
to court, I had only wanted to be friendly
And they used my goodness to their advantage, but it is too late
But I can complain to the # MeToo movement
Impossible to catch my breath
waiting for the other shoe to drop
~ the suspense claiming another victim
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
Sub Categories
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.