Is your MOM addicted to drugs?All answers are appreciated…if you would be willing to read it and tell me what you think..leave a comment and i will post it so you can read it…it is a poem about how a fathers drug addiction affected his daughter…i believe it is a very good poem, it hits home…so please, leave a website or let me know if your willing to read it over
THANK YOU SO MUCH! :)
http://thisishowfarwevecome.deviantart.com/art/He-chose-drugs-over-me-156331374
this is one of my poems…i will be adding more like it soon
I started a poem about my asshole ex boyfriend to express the anger and sadness that I feel towards him. We broke up because he cheated on me with this skanky ho(his new girlfriend) while I was pregnant with his child. Now, he’s doing absolutely nothing for our daughter and doesn’t even acknowledge her. He’s only seen her once. He wastes his money by buying cocaine and heroin and he spends the rest on his car instead of his daughter. He keeps calling me and lately, I’ve been ignoring him. I leave the phone off the hook and let him waste his time talking to himself.
Can you guys help me finish my poem? I tried to get my thoughts into poetry form, but I am having trouble with it.
Here’s the first verse:
I gave you everything I am,
Yet I’m left to grieve alone,
You’ve brought me so much agony,
There’s no way to atone.
TD, I don’t need the sheriff’s number. I’m actually thinking about changing my phone #. Thanks anyway.
help
this one
even thought he gave us pain
we will not die in pity or vain
the sun will not force us dry
the rain shall not make us cry
he may be man but we woman are strong
when he is right we are not always wrong
we are not a storage a bag nor a cave
we fed the hungry and freed the slaves
we mad miracles encore and encore
we ened the depression and won the wars
and sorry mr president we rule the state
i mean look at us we wear dresses and skate
so when ever he says your nothing
laugh and say im the reason your something
or
jezebel
wise woman once told me i was a queen
they said my smile shines and my walk is mean
they told me stories of bodies they sell
they bought me a silk dress and called me jezebel
they took me into the streets where i met a man named fred
he bought me a drink then took me to bed
he said
jezebel jezebel your juices are flowing
jezebel jezebel your body is glowing
my mother once gave me lipstick and heels
she told me when you see a fellow bow down and kneel
for he has money and gold for days
so jezebel just play the game he plays
then he says
jezebel jezebel your juices are flowing
jezebel jezebel your body is glowing
my daughter once told me i was a hag
she said my heart is worthless and my body was a bag
she couldnt look at me in the eyes
she made me cry
when she said
jezebel jezebel your juices are flowing
jezebel jezebel your body is glowing
EMANCIPATION
my mother died.
not tina nash the person
tina nash the mother.
she is dead.
and that is why i need to be on the corner
making my money,
selling freeze pops and candy to young children.
i would never sell my body.
i just dont like the choices that she
makes: the type of man she wants to be expect.
and thats messed up because she’s
the one who is supposed to hate
my choices like dating boys in gangs,dying my hair every other week,
and wearing push up bras to show off my cleavage.
she is the reason i want to get emancipated.
emancipation.
the act of living wholly or
partially with out a parent
or guardian.
by my self in a one bed room
apartment
with in walking distance from my
school.
i would not be able to be in the after school matters
poetry and performance workshop. i would need to
get a real job.
no more c’s. i would need a’s and b’s to prove
to a court of law that i am a good student.
i would need to get a job to prove to a court of law\that i would be financially stable.
i would have to buy every thing by my self.
so no movies with kiana, no mcdonalds mcgriddles
to eat on my way to school, no payhalf,no dots, no going to the harlem irving plazamall,
no new shoes, no paying three dollars to get into that party next saturday, no getting slushies at
lunch and no buying the expensive brands of gum because it lasts longer.
just necessities.
necessities such as bills, food, refridgerator to put the food in,
stove to cook the food, and a microwave to
reheat the food.
soap,pots,pans,plunger,a table,frebreeze,
hair grease,trashcan,ovenmitts,shopping
cart, dryer, washing machine,
school fees and many other things that i would have to go out and purchase on my own.
go to target and look around for sales
go to home depot and best buy and get all the things that
would make my one bed room apartment a home
that i would be ok living in….alone.
“but courtney you would be all alone.”
that what my division teacher said.
but i’d rather be alone then live in a house
where a crack head has more privileges then the president.
where i have a lock on my door.
where strangers come and go like the mail man. i would rather grow up now
by myself then grow up in a house where he is forgiven daily
with our repercussions.
he calls you all your name
so you want him to leave and you do the same.
why can i only have one stable parent at a time?
you loved me and made the right decisions when daddy was on “vacation”
but now its your turn to forget about your daughter and not she the big picture.
you called me on the phone, all sad and drunk when i went away with my dad for the first time.
and that was only for five days.
so imagine not ever having to wake me up for school. imagine not telling me to call grandma
and see how she doing. imagine having and empty room in the middle of your apartment.
i wont be there to blast my music on youtube or to go check the mail box.
you wont get tired of telling me to get my clothes off the dryer.
so i guess thats what you want and
i would be ok. all my my self.
an emancipated teen.
but mommy, you just gone let me leave?
Shell Shock Venus, aborted at sea.
Her youthful uniform torn open and free.
Floating where the whirlpools swirl
Men came diving for her pearl.
They’d scour her surfaces,
She’d dredge up their deep.
In a chaotic universe, shallow and sweet.
And as the merman hurled
Woman went careening from the girl.
And no line of questioning
Could penetrate her nerve.
But something was tapping her reserve.
Ashes of innocence, splinters of dreams.
Her anger in residence, ripping the seams
And petrifying fast;
She anchored to that mast.
Through waves of ecstasy
They’d compromise.
But something was lacking in her eyes…
Reptiles in water, a goddess in heat;
We dreamt of a daughter, Venus and me.
Floating where the whirlpools swirl
Men came diving for her pearl…
A Night at the Old Inn
We’re brought to places sometimes unforeseen
And opportunity may flourish where
There seems to be none. May I with you share
A mirthful tale laid somewhere in-between?
Without vocation, a young gentleman
Was forced, as only tribulation can,
To leave the world of lustful, wanton life
And don instead monastic cowl and cloak
And though to him the Father never spoke
Abjured from carnal pleasures, and no wife
Would he enjoy for all his four score span.
The God of Mercy had another plan.
His shepherd, forced to stop one eve at last,
Would find himself where a young beauty passed
At a quaint inn, and though he was a man
The inn keep, though his spirits had been sunk
By daughter’s death, thought first to ask the monk
If he would watch her body overnight
And he agreed, but curiosity
Soon bested him; he took a peek to see
If she was, as he’d heard, a fair delight;
The sight of her released him from his funk.
And so, he stood half man, half deity
Alas, the former half he could not stop
He dropped his cloak and then he climbed on top
Forgetting God but finding ecstasy.
He thrust then in and out and spilled his seed
And did so with a most unpracticed speed.
Then finished, he put on again his cloak
And silently sat with the corpse till dawn;
But in a farther room the lots were drawn
And although his beloved never spoke
She satisfied an ancient, aching need.
The next morn, all those present were bereft,
Our monk perhaps for reasons of his own ―
His mind fell back to manly seeds he’d sown;
At last he rose and thanked his host and left.
How quickly did a miracle unfold!
The ravished maiden was at once I’m told
Restored to life and all its youthful vigor
She fairly glowed the passersby would say
Indeed more like a woman every day
But as the months passed she kept getting bigger
Until the birth could not be put on hold.
A year went by; one day the monk appeared
And asked if he could once more stay the night,
But what he saw made him recoil in fright:
She lived, and now the secret he had feared ―
That he had won the night with lusty charms―
Lay red-faced, bawling in his mother’s arms!
The inn keep looked at him with solemn eyes
And not a word was said, yet each one knew
The truth of this queer thing he’d thought to do
And so, to do the better thing, and wise
Appear, and set aside her father’s harms
He left his Godly post and took a wife
And found at last the meaning of his life.
A Night at the Old Inn
We’re brought to places sometimes unforeseen
And opportunity may flourish where
There seems to be none. May I with you share
A mirthful tale laid somewhere in-between?
Without vocation, a young gentleman
Was forced, as only tribulation can,
To leave the world of lustful, wanton life
And don instead monastic cowl and cloak
And though to him the Father never spoke
Abjured from carnal pleasures, and no wife
Would he enjoy for all his four score span.
The God of Mercy had another plan.
His shepherd, forced to stop one eve at last,
Would find himself where a young beauty passed
At a quaint inn, and though he was a man
The inn keep, though his spirits had been sunk
By daughter’s death, thought first to ask the monk
If he would watch her body overnight
And he agreed, but curiosity
Soon bested him; he took a peek to see
If she was, as he’d heard, a fair delight;
The sight of her released him from his funk.
And so, he stood half man, half deity
Alas, the former half he could not stop
He dropped his cloak and then he climbed on top
Forgetting God but finding ecstasy.
He thrust then in and out and spilled his seed
And did so with a most unpracticed speed.
Then finished, he put on again his cloak
And silently sat with the corpse till dawn;
But in a farther room the lots were drawn
And although his beloved never spoke
She satisfied an ancient, aching need.
The next morn, all those present were bereft,
Our monk perhaps for reasons of his own ―
His mind fell back to manly seeds he’d sown;
At last he rose and thanked his host and left.
How quickly did a miracle unfold!
The ravished maiden was at once I’m told
Restored to life and all its youthful vigor
She fairly glowed the passersby would say
Indeed more like a woman every day
But as the months passed she kept getting bigger
Until the birth could not be put on hold.
A year went by; one day the monk appeared
And asked if he could once more stay the night,
But what he saw made him recoil in fright:
She lived, and now the secret he had feared ―
That he had won the night with lusty charms―
Lay red-faced, bawling in his mother’s arms!
The inn keep looked at him with solemn eyes
And not a word was said, yet each one knew
The truth of this queer thing he’d thought to do
And so, to do the better thing, and wise
Appear, and set aside her father’s harms
He left his Godly post and took a wife
And found at last the meaning of his life.
Shell Shock Venus, aborted at sea.
Her youthful uniform torn open and free.
Floating where the whirlpools swirl
Men came diving for her pearl.
They’d scour her surfaces,
She’d dredge up their deep.
In a chaotic universe, shallow and sweet.
And as the merman hurled
Woman went careening from the girl.
And no line of questioning
Could penetrate her nerve.
But something was tapping her reserve.
Ashes of innocence, splinters of dreams.
Her anger in residence, ripping the seams
And petrifying fast;
She anchored to that mast.
Through waves of ecstasy
They’d compromise
But something was lacking in her eyes…
Reptiles in water, a goddess in heat.
We dreamt of a daughter, Venus and me.
Floating where the whirlpools swirl
Men came diving for her pearl…
Keep still, Just Walk the Plank
Groundhogs gophers-gally up-salute to ecstasy
Sand it UP
Euphemism sways these chivalrous oak trees- yet still:
Turtles truddle with wicked corruption
sleaze (be weary)
Diving deep with scales of rainbow
Tied into bows by Mayflowered children
Treason!! But sly-
Triples, Quadruples, [fool] stand BACK
Same square lecture Bocks (L?)
Let peace be squandered till death
In-consequential, pots of steam, tendrils climb (ing?)
Drink deep but slow trepidation fits duplicate
I could make a pirate out of you,
But I can’t tell these heroes from thieves
Is this chuffing cacophony mocking me? amplified dissonance.
Knocking. Knocking. Pounding. Crying.
Daughter? Quake and smell this lavender Soap! –are you there?
Brush brush brush these shale biscuit rings
Into worlds folds [YOU!] evil
Darling, I’ve waited- but now come back to me
Hiss hiss, is it gray or did it miss?
Understand I did not berry this chest of CoaL(d)
Just lick this seal and it is FINished!!!
But now this scrap can survive; LIBERTY
Oh Destitute, surrender your wealth!- I’m loaded
Plummet into the Grave of sunrise…. ‘scape
Calamity sheds slithery skin (bury it!)
Resolution of Rosie specs
If you’d rather not, I’ll fly alone
To those western skies that dream of Eden
But. Just for now, teach me your songs
Or I’ll drown from sour melodies.
Indignation (yours or mine?)
My poem – for university poetry contest. Comments, opinions? Seriously only please.?
Our babysitter lives across from the Dodge Street cemetery,
And behind her broad, untroubled face.
Her sons play touch football all afternoon
Among the graves of clerks & Norwegian settlers.
At night, these huge trees, rooted in such quiet,
Arch over the tombstones as if in exultation,
As if they inhaled starlight.
Their limbs reach
Toward each other & their roots must touch the dead.
When I was fifteen,
There was a girl who loved me; whom I did not love, & she
Died, that year, of spinal meningitis. By then she
Had already left home, & was working in a carnival –
One of those booths where you are supposed
To toss a dime onto a small dish. Finally,
In Laredo, Texas, someone anonymous, & too late, bought her
A bus ticket back. . . .
Her father, a gambler & horse dealer, wept
Openly the day she was buried. I remember looking off
In embarrassment at the woods behind his house.
The woods were gray, vagrant, the color of smoke
Or sky. I remember thinking then that
If I had loved her, or even slept with her once,
She might still be alive.
And if, instead, we had gone away together
On two bay horses that snorted when they began to gallop,
And if, later, we had let them
Graze at their leisure on the small tufts of spring grass
In those woods, & if the disintegrating print of the ferns
Had been a lullaby there against the dry stones & the trunks
Of fallen trees, then maybe nothing would have happened. . . .
There are times, hiking with my wife past
Abandoned orchards of freckled apples & patches of sunlight
In New Hampshire, or holding her closely against me at night
Until she sleeps, when nothing else matters, when
The trees shine without meaning more than they are, in moonlight,
And when it seems possible to disappear wholly into someone
Else, as into a wish on a birthday, the candles trembling. . . .
Maybe nothing would have happened, but I heard that
Her father died, a year later, in a Sierra lumber camp.
He had been drinking steadily all week,
And was dealing cards
When the muscle of his own heart
Kicked him back into his chair so hard its wood snapped.
He must have thought there was something
Suddenly very young inside his body,
If he had time to think. . . .
And if death is an adolescent, closing his eyes to the music
On the radio of that passing car,
I think he does not know his own strength.
If I stand here long enough in this stillness I can feel
His silence involve, somehow, the silence of these trees,
The sky, the little squawking toy my son lost
When it slipped into the river today. . . .
Today, I am thirty-four years old. I know
That horse dealer with a limp loved his plain, & crazy daughter.
I know, also, that it did no good.
Soon, the snows will come again & cover that place
Where he sat at a wobbling card table underneath
A Ponderosa pine, & cover
Even the three cards he dropped there, three silent diamonds,
And cover everything in the Sierras, & make my meaning plain.