The Angry Young Man
He had so much anger, so much hate
To lash out at someone he couldn’t wait
An innocent bystander walking down the street
This was the one that he would beat.
If she had suspected what lied ahead
She would have turned her back and fled.
With fists flaring he knocked her to the ground
Her jaw broken - she couldn’t make a sound
They say they don’t know how she survived
With the extent of her injuries
they was sure she would die.
She gave a description of what he looked like
And before blacking out she started to fight
They caught him with the description she gave
They saw that he was full of anger and rage.
They say from his step father he had been abused
And fighting back was of no use.
His mother did not believe what he had said
And she turned - and sent him to bed.
He now blamed his mother for what
His step father had done
no one to turn to, no where to run.
She should have - defended her son.
He and his step father are both in jail
Because his mother had truly failed
To hold a man she did not watch her son
Now look at what he has gone and done.
(child abuse can create stories such as this)
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Broken Home
she came from a broken home
where the parents at each other
would throw stones.
every day they would argue, bicker
and fight, all the way til the night.
not realizing their childs plight.
the child to them in turn would scream
but in the battle she was not seen.
from her father she had sexual abuse
fighting with him, was of no use.
he forced himself upon her at a very young age
from there on, her life would never be the same.
living in fear of what he would do
and who she could turn to.
where could she go
the judicial system moves very slow.
when she had told her mother.
her mother said it could never be
why would he go with you
when he has me?
she knew then, that she would have to leave
and with her being gone, no one would grieve.
she would pack her bags, with everything
she owned, and on the road she would go.
with tears in her eyes, she walked out
the door, to return never more.
and as she got to the swinging gate
her mother screamed to her
but it was too late.
on her dresser bureau, her mother found this note.
you gave birth to me, and brought me
into this world, and you had always said
that i was your little girl.
but when i told you what had happened to me
you laughed and turned your back on me.
so now i am leaving, because i can not
continue this abuse,
don't look for me, it will be of no use.
i love you mom, for you are my mother
just watch out for my little brother.
i am a child from a broken home
and i know that i'm not alone.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hands & Knees
You see me walking away
What more could I say than sorry
I failed by all your complaints
You pushed a life change but its not me
And filthy hands lay apon my chest
Lay upon my sin, but I do it for green
And in your mind you are blind
And your back turn so fine
Where were you when I needed you most
So mother so father
Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
My self-indulgence to blame
For all of the shame in the family
You dont know what its like
How I feel how I cry
How I hate the way I hate my life
So mother so father Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
Pues madre, y padre
Esta vida no quiero vivir
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
song performed by by Unloco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enough Of Me
We were all wounded in some domestic war
I found you to settle my score
You looked like father
You felt like mother
My mind told my heart
There is no other
And I gave you my soul
And every ounce of control
I gave you my skin
And my original sin
I gave you my pride and my side
oh my pride
Ain't that enough
I turned your dreams into lightning
Ain't that enough
I held the world back for you
Ain't that enough
I loved you past the point of dying
Ain't that enough of me for you
I was so sure one and one gave you one
My noisy love is coming undone
Now you leave like father
Disappointed like mother
And I know in my heart
There is no other
And I gave you my soul
And every ounce of control
And I gave you my shame
And my eternal flame
And I gave you my need and my seed Oh my need
Why can't you hold on
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep The Faith
Mother mother tell your children
that their time has just begone
i have suffered for my anger
there are wars that cant be won
Father father please believe me
i am laying down my guns
i am broken like an arrow
forgive me
forgive your wayward son
Everybody needs somebody to love (mother, mother)
everybody needs somebody to hate (please believe me)
everybodys bitching cause they cant get enough
and its hard to hold on
when theres no one to lean on
Faith: You know youre gonna live thru the rain
lord you got to keep the faith
faith: dont let your love turn to hate
right now we got to
keep the faith keep the faith keep the faith
lord we got to keep the faith
song performed by by X-Perience
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep The Faith
Mother mother tell your children
that their time has just begone
i have suffered for my anger
there are wars that cant be won
Father father please believe me
i am laying down my guns
i am broken like an arrow
forgive me
forgive your wayward son
Everybody needs somebody to love (mother, mother)
everybody needs somebody to hate (please believe me)
everybodys bitching cause they cant get enough
and its hard to hold on
when theres no one to lean on
Faith: You know youre gonna live thru the rain
lord you got to keep the faith
faith: dont let your love turn to hate
right now we got to
keep the faith keep the faith keep the faith
lord we got to keep the faith
song performed by by X-Perience
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wrong Question
this morning
you cry and with sobbing you report about
a child being mauled by the police
at the dead end
of Del Pilar street near the
municipal cemetery
the child was running away from
five policemen who kept on chasing him
and they caught him
and asked his age, his name, his father, his mother
and he said he is 19, Kiko, his father is Pepo, and his mother Karing
his father a fisherman and his mother a vendor
and he is from the far mountain
and just arrived to the city
and since he is frail and pale and looks like a sick child
he reaped the suspicion that he is a drug addict
and they mauled him almost to death
and he was hospitalized and charged
resisting arrest
Someone asks, not bothered at all by an imagination
of blood and broken bones and abuse of authority
'But why did he run away, in the first place? '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gathering Mushrooms
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
the taste of dill, or tarragon-
he could barely tell one from the other-
filled his mouth. It seemed as if he might smother.
Why should he be stricken
with grief, not for his mother and father,
but a woman slinking from the fur of a sea-otter
In Portland, Maine, or, yes, Portland, Oregon-
he could barely tell one from the other-
and why should he now savour
the tang of her, her little pickled gherkin,
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father?
*
He looked about. He remembered her palaver
on how both earth and sky would darken-
'You could barely tell one from the other'-
while the Monarch butterflies passed over
in their milkweed-hunger: 'A wing-beat, some reckon,
may trigger off the mother and father
of all storms, striking your Irish Cliffs of Moher
with the force of a hurricane.'
Then: 'Milkweed and Monarch 'invented' each other.'
*
He looked about. Cow's-parsley in a samovar.
He'd mistaken his mother's name, 'Regan, ' for Anger';
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
he could barely tell one from the other.
poem by Paul Muldoon
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Morning Meditation (Walking)
walking,
aware of each step,
i feel my feet touching,
the earth touching my feet...
i feel the bombs falling,
the families huddled in fear,
the bare apartments and empty tables,
the needles, the guns, and the dumpsters.
step by step,
i feel the old woman dying
in the stink of the nursing home.
i feel the child crying...
in the room of darkness.
i feel the mother's tears,
and the father's deep firm loss,
as they lower the casket...
i feel the dirt,
and the stone.
walking, i am walking,
i feel each step, i name each thought,
aware of each step,
step following step!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She-Once-Was My Mother
I've never forgotten
My mother's braveness
She, who stood unbroken like a rainbow
Of a multitude beautiful colours...
She- once- was my mother
And all her courage-
Uncomparable with
Any living thing...
She-once- was my mother
Those moments of terror,
Those places where no
Crickets, snakes, and birds'sounds
Could be heard,
She navigated through
Without a cheerful shadow
Ah! She- once- was my mother
And despite the rumbling bombs
And rockets'songs,
She wouldn't fling her full-topped cases
On the sorghum-filled walking way
As my father had done
When he left her behind
Can't you see!
She- once- was my mother
And the continuous calls
Of the word 'maman',
Of my baby brother- behind her back,
Couldn't supress her
She was still not easilly broken like an egg
Hard like canadian rocky mountains...
She- once- was my mother
Even as the calls kept on,
A suitable place, she would fetch
To make him suck her breasts
And continue her way-afterwards
How tenacious!
She- once-was my mother
And later, when I and siblings saw her,
Down, the joy knocked my heart
And said, 'yes girl-she once had been your mother'
poem by Mariechantal Tuyisabe
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My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Reckoning
My mother was carried to heaven
On the day that I turned six,
She died of tuberculosis
Spitting blood in a coughing fit,
She'd been so ill for a long long time
That I couldn't recall her smile,
My father, he just grumbled, said:
'Your Ma will be gone for a while.'
'She's gone to sing in a choir up there,
Who knows how long she will be? '
But I saw the coffin that carried her out,
The hearse and the burial tree,
I watched as it sank down into the ground
And my father just left it there,
Went off to visit my 'aunt', he said,
A woman with long, blond hair.
I stayed at home, such a lonely child,
And went to a place in my head,
Where mother was fit and without a care
She laughed at the things I said,
My father left me alone a lot
So mother would tell me, 'Shush! '
We'd laugh and giggle when he went out
But talk in a sort of hush.
I played outside at other times
Where the grass grew long and wild,
I'd catch the skinks as they darted past,
I was always a curious child,
I'd bring the Sleepy Lizards home,
My father didn't mind,
He said I could keep the pets I caught,
I thought he was being kind.
But then one day he came on home
With this 'aunt', who moved right in,
He said they were married now, so I
Should call her 'Mum', not Jen.
I scowled, and went to my room to cry,
My mother was looking sad,
She said, 'just do what your father says,
I'm your Mother, but he's your Dad.'
This Jenny, she was all right at first
She tried to make me smile,
But I was feeling rebellious then,
And turned my back for a while,
I kept my rabbits and guinea pigs
And fed them out in their hutch,
But Jenny came out to look at them,
And she didn't like them much.
I knew, she wrinkled her powdered nose
And said, 'Oh pew! They stink!
We'll have to find you a hobby, one
That's pure and clean, I think.'
I heard her talking to father, say
That she thought I was rather slow,
She wanted the garden tidied up
So my animals had to go.
It was just about that time, I think
That my mother said goodbye,
She couldn't stay in that house, she said,
It was time for her to fly,
She left me alone in a great big world
So I brought a Lizard inside,
And put it under my bedclothes
Thought it a perfect place to hide.
When Jenny made the bed, she screamed
And shook me like a rag,
She went and got a kitchen knife
And a plastic shopping bag,
She made me put the Lizard in
Then she took the bag outside,
And stabbed and stabbed 'til the Lizard bled,
'Til my Lizard friend had died.
'Now bury it! ' she said to me,
'And don't you ever dare
Bring filthy animals into this house,
For if you do, I swear...'
At this she put the knife to my throat
And stood and watched me scream,
I saw the hate in her powdered face
It was like an awful dream!
Whenever my father left the house
She'd always scream and shout,
Knock me around for the slightest thing
Then drag me, throw me out,
Lock the door so I couldn't get in
And give me nothing to eat,
She said if I told my Dad on her
It would only get me beat.
She killed my rabbits, cooked them up
And served them from a pot,
She gave me a crooked, evil grin:
'You'd better eat the lot! '
I found myself in a black, black rage
Inside, at the things she'd done,
And hoped that my father would go on out
And buy himself a gun.
He never knew what she did to me,
I never would dare to say,
I knew that she'd get me on my own
And then there'd be hell to pay,
So I stayed outside in the barren fields
And found me a hessian sack,
Then went for a hunt with a long, forked stick,
It was time to get her back!
I waited until he'd gone away,
Was gone two days or more,
Then bit my tongue as she raved at me,
Spat hate from the kitchen door,
The morning came, and there wasn't a sound
To come from that angry head,
And I will never regret the day
I put a snake in her bed.
10 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bed Time
mother is
bed time
as mother
tells a lot
of stories
about
strange creatures
like
elastic man
yellow frog
girl
robin hood
red riding hood
manhood
boy with golden
hair
Rapunzel
gazelle
Cinderel la and
Aladdin
we sleep and
mother goes
back to her
bed with father
and the lights
are turned off
and there are
so many dreams
father, mother
and us
and so many of
these dreams
with the
unicorns
and the
dragons sometimes
and the knights
such that
we cannot
anymore
remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Baby Step Back
Now it looks to me like the same old place
In the sky it looks like rain
The same old town with the same old streets
The address has not change
You can find me there
With the door shut tight
And the one wish that remains
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
No you know I dont write no bad checks
I have no wish to repent
Ive seen a few
But whatever I do
I dont cause no accidents
Whiskey and wine help me pass the time
I dont leave no evidence
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Still I dont kneel down
I was born to fight
So youd best leave me alone
Maybe Ill get much more than I need
Or much less than I should own
Last of all let me say it again
Either step up or step on
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby walk back baby walk back
Either walk on or walk back
Baby step back ...
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The bathroom was like a sanctuary
As a teenager
the bathroom was
like a sanctuary.
A place where
in privacy
I could in nudity
reflect on life
and soak in hot water
and wash every thing dirty
away from me.
I was undisturbed until
my mother married again
and one of my stepsisters
had a small girl
who used to follow me
and when I was eighteen
and she was about thirteen.
time and time again
she somehow
unlocked the bathroom
and walked in on me.
From where I shouted her out
in anger and shock
and wasn’t amused
to get a shouting back
from a step father
who wasn’t a dad to me
and didn’t see
anything wrong with it.
Thinking back
it might have been something
in her genetics
or a lack of good moral standing,
since her mother (my ex step sister)
who was quite beautiful,
in vain tried to seduce my brother
but never tried
to set that snare for me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Keep The Faith
Mother mother tell your children
That their time has just begun
I have suffered for my anger
There are wars that can't be won
Father father please believe me
I am laying down my guns
I am broken like an arrow
Forgive me
Forgive your wayward son
Everybody needs somebody to love
(mother
song performed by by Bon Jovi from Crossroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Future
"Let's make him a sailor," said Father,
"And he will adventure the sea."
"A soldier," said Mother, "is rather
What I would prefer him to be."
"A lawyer," said Father, "would please me,
For then he could draw up my will."
"A doctor," said Mother, "would ease me;
Maybe he could give me a pill."
Said Father: "Lt's make him a curate,
A Bishop in gaiters to be."
Said Mother: "I couldn't endure it
To have Willie preaching to me."
Said Father: ""Let him be a poet;
So often he's gathering wool."
Said Mother with temper: "Oh stow it!
You know it, a poet's a fool."
Said Farther: "Your son is a duffer,
A stupid and mischievous elf."
Said Mother, who's rather a huffer:
"That's right - he takes after yourself."
Controlling parental emotion
They turned to me, seeking a cue,
And sudden conceived the bright notion
To ask what I wanted to do.
Said I: "my ambition is modest:
A clown in a circus I'd be,
And turn somersaults in the sawdust
With audience laughing at me."
. . . Poor parents! they're dead and decaying,
But I am a clown as you see;
And though in no circus I'm playing,
How people are laughing at me!
poem by Robert William Service
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Ask A Mother
If you're looking for a juggler
If you know 'bout superpower
If some problems cause you anger
Ask a Mother.
If you're down and in the gutter
If Life's worry's getting bigger
If you think quitting is better
Ask a Mother.
If the hurts they make you bitter
If your love's 'not ever after'
If your Hopes fade like a flower
Ask a Mother
If you find there's no one there
Or you may have lost your mother
Gone is father, brother, sister
Talk to God, He is your Father.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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