Please send me your poems, I love reading and sharing them.
January Poem 2019
By Kaitlyn L.
You can punch me down,
Drop me in the dust.
You can kick me to a curb,
And leave me there to rust.
You can shove me to the wall,
And knock me to the ground,
I’d be bruised and beaten,
But still, I’d be around.
You may call me a loser,
You may call me a fool.
You can make me the subject,
Of your ridicule.
You can make me feel worthless,
You can make me upset.
Though I’m weak and helpless
You can’t make me forget.
Why do you detest me?
Please don’t shut me out.
Still I’m yet to recover from
The shadows of doubt.
To this day I am uncertain
Who and when to trust.
Which person would receive me,
Or like you; leave me in the dust.
I was ignorant yet wholesome,
I was gullible but kind.
Dreams of fearless knights on steeds
Had clouded my youthful mind.
I believed I was a warrior,
I believed in doing right.
Then you stripped me of my armour,
So I have to join the fight.
I must demonstrate my value,
I must show that I am strong.
I believed I was a failure;
But I will prove myself wrong.
I must see myself as decent,
I must tell myself I’m fine.
I’m worth the same as all the rest
I have to draw the line.
I can’t let you be this person,
Because now you’ve gone too far.
No longer can I wait and wish
On rising shooting stars.
I believed you could constrain me,
You fancied me your steed.
But I shall slip out of my bridle,
I will see myself freed.
by Amy A.
A small girl playing with my dolls, hoping and dreaming of the day.
The day I had my own children.
This was always my purpose in life. To give life. To create life.
My greatest gifts, a little boy and a little girl.
My whole heart, living and breathing and walking the world. Apart.
Always so close to me. No distance between us.
Years go by.
They grow bigger, stronger.
Eyes that once looked up to me, look past me.
They beat their wings in preparation. So close to soaring now.
I feel the loss of them. The loss of their need. The loss of their closeness.
Heart breaking, I stand still.
They push hard against the edge of this nest, ready to rise up on their own into the sky.
By Marco Y.
It’s Too Much
It’s too much.
I can’t take it.
Everyone judging me.
I entertain myself
With a screen
A video game
Can’t you all stop?
It’s too much.
Why do you judge me?
In my eyes,
It’s a story.
That you unravel yourself.
That you experience yourself.
It’s too much.
By Isabel M.
before you, no guy had ever told me I was pretty.
before you, I thought no one noticed me.
before you, I had low self-confidence.
after you, I gained confidence.
slowly of course,
I was broken, crumbling inside.
but heartbreak makes you stronger.
after you, I’m noticed.
or maybe my eyes are finally open and I have been noticed all along.
after you, my heart still skips a beat no matter who calls me pretty
because it feels so amazing.
even if it’s not you anymore.
I am growing by moving on.
I want to thank you for impacting my life.
sometimes for the worse.
but maybe for the better.
By Morgan Mouser
If a man and a woman are standing next to each other
And you don’t know what they look like
Who they are
Or anything about them
Who is stronger?
Which person is wearing a dress?
You probably have answers for that
Right away, right?
What if I told you
The woman has a muscular build
And the man was wearing a dress,
Would you find that weird?
Maybe you would say it’s fine
In an effort to try to seem accepting.
But deep inside,
You think something’s off
What If you walked into a makeup store
And had the choice
Of a man or a woman assisting you
Who would you pick?
Probably the woman
Because she has more experience
And knows what she’s talking about
You think to yourself
But in reality,
The woman knows very little about makeup
And what she does know was taught to her by the male
What if you walk in
to college basketball practice
As a male.
And you see
the head coach is a girl
Would you have second thoughts
on how your season is going to go?
Because your coach is a woman?
Being secretly or openly judged
By things people can’t control
Such as gender,
Who they love.
This is something people struggle with
Far too often
If you think of a person in prison
What do they look like?
Or a model?
Or a doctor?
Or a teacher?
Or a person who can make a difference?
Modern Anne, Frank
By Debjeet Mukherjee
Eyes swollen in tears running deep in heart,
Anne came back home from school to start
A single life without her boyfriend from now,
Combating the pain at stake, she knew not how.
“Crying?” asked her sister, playing with toys,
Came a quick somber reply, I hate all boys
Yet if asked about brothers and the father of her joys,
Would she say they are different, I hate ‘other’ boys?
Time will not stop, and chapters won’t end,
Anne grew up, and so did her ex-boyfriend.
Destiny was not meant for them to meet,
So ex-boyfriend married another girl so sweet.
A daughter named Frank was born to them.
But growing up, she had a story much the same.
After school break-up, she said, boys fail love test,
My dad is the best; I leave out all the rest.
And yet turning the burnt pages of history,
During World War II, a girl full of mystery
Named Anne Frank, who aptly as a teen did say
In darkest times, to light up hearts on the way.
“I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything
I still believe that people are really good at heart.”
Your heart is like a piece of paper,
fragile, easily ruined.
Each injurious word is a fold,
each enemy makes a tear.
The opposite, love and friendship,
But no matter how many times,
you unfold, flatten, or tape it,
there will always be,
and in-healable scar.