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~Dedicated to all victims of bullying, which include girls
& boys of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds.  (That includes me too.)~

Yvonne was very, very, very happy.
She loved her mother.
She loved her brother Phillip.
And she loved swans.
Oh, did she ever love swans!

She loved the way they looked
With their smooth, fluffy feathers,
And colorful beaks of orange, yellow and red.
She would watch them for hours
As they glided over water
In the pond at the park.

Her favorite thing was when two swans
Would get close, ever so close,
Head to head, forming a heart
With their beautiful, curved necks.

Her next favorite thing was
When baby swan cygnets
Would bunch together,
Closely following behind their mother.

She loved swans so much that she
Made a song about them.
Yvonne called it her Swan Song.

“Oh, lovely swan, as you swim in the pond,
Your baby cygnets play—I could watch them all day!
Whatever I do, when I think about you
I wonder if you think about me too!”

Yvonne sang her swan song
All the way to school in the morning
And all the way back home in the afternoon.

Yvonne loved school too.
She was a very good student.  
She studied hard for her tests.
Her grades were very good.
Her teachers were impressed.
Yvonne was helpful to her classmates.
And she was very, very, very happy.

One day a new kid showed up at school.
His name was Harry, and he seemed kinda cool.  
The teacher welcomed Harry to the class
And told everyone to be nice to him.
Harry was a little bigger than most of the kids.
And Harry didn’t smile.  He didn’t say a word.

Harry sat at the empty desk next to Yvonne.
Yvonne was excited about making a new friend.
“Hi, Harry.  I’m Yvonne.  Pleased to meet you.”
“Shut up!” Harry said.  “Leave me alone.”
Yvonne wondered why Harry was so mean.
In fact, he looked rather scary.
“Scary Harry” thought Yvonne.

Every day Yvonne and her friends would try to be nice to Harry.
Every day, Harry would be mean to them.
The only kids Harry liked were the bully kids,
The ones who were mean like Harry.
Harry was bigger and meaner.
Soon all the bullies were following him.

Every day they would pick on different kids.
One day they started picking on Yvonne.
Scary Harry taught his bully friends
An awful poem about Yvonne.  
They would shout it out when Yvonne came to school
And they would shout it out when she left for home too.

“Yvonne sang her swan song
She worked so hard all-day long.
When she came home she fell down
'Cause her legs didn’t have any bones!”

Yvonne was very hurt by their horrible, hateful poem,
And she would cry and run away as fast as she could.
Scary Harry and the bullies would laugh and laugh
And keep shouting it over again and again.

They also made up an awful poem
About Yvonne’s brother Phillip.

“Her brother’s name was Phillip.
He had such big wide hips.
When he tried to drink from a straw he couldn’t
'Cause his mouth didn’t have any lips!”

Yvonne was no longer very, very, very happy,
She felt fear, stress and sadness all the time.
Fear made her not want to go to school.
Sadness made her stop acting like her true self.

She no longer wanted to go to the park to see the swans.
Stress left her stomach in knots.
She found it hard to sleep.
What could she do?  
What would you do if this happened to you?

Yvonne did not want to be a tattletale,
But decided it would be best to tell her mother.
Yvonne told her everything.
About the new kid, Scary Harry, and the bully kids;
About them bullying her and her friends;
About the awful poems about her and Phillip;
About her fear of going to school;
About her sadness over not wanting to see the swans;
About the stress leaving her stomach in knots.
She told her mother everything,
And then she cried and cried and cried.

Her mother wept with her, and when the time was right she asked,
“What do you do when they bully you?”
“I start to cry and then run away” sobbed Yvonne.
“What do you WANT to do when they bully you?”
“I want to hit them hard and make them stop!”

With loving eyes, her mother replied
“Yvonne, I am so sorry for you.  But I know exactly what you should do.”
“Really?” Yvonne asked between sobs.
“Really!” responded her mother.  “Listen closely.”
Placing her hands gently on Yvonne’s shoulders,
Her mother kindly looked into Yvonne’s eyes and said:

“You can beat a bully without using your fists,
If you don’t react to their bullying.  
If you don’t react, the bullies will lose interest.
Don’t retaliate, or be mean to them,
Because that will only add to the problem.
Act confident, don’t be afraid.  
Bullies notice when you’re afraid.

Walk away, don’t run.  
It shows you have self-control,
Something the bullies don’t have.
Don’t walk to school alone.  
Walk with a friend.

Since bullies love secrecy, tell someone.  
Tell a teacher, just like you told me.
Even though you may feel like a tattletale,
You shouldn’t have to face it alone.”

Yvonne hugged her mother long and hard.
She was so happy she had finally told her mother.
“Let’s go to the park and see the swans” her mother said.
Yvonne, her mother and Phillip went, and had a wonderful time.
Yvonne felt like singing her swan song again,
So she sang it loud and strong
In the park by the pond and all the way home.

“Oh, lovely swan, as you swim in the pond
Your baby cygnets play—I could watch them all day!
Whatever I do, when I think about you
I wonder if you think about me too!”

The next day at school,
When scary Harry and the bully kids
Shouted the awful poems,
Yvonne remembered everything her mother had told her.
She even told her friends, so they would know what to do.
And she told her teacher too.

It didn’t take long before the bullying slowed down.
Scary Harry eventually stopped being as scary.
Yvonne was once again very, very, very happy.

She loved her mother more and more each day.
She loved her brother Phillip.
She loved her school too.
And she loved swans.
Oh, did she ever love swans!
4/24/2018 - Poetry form:  Narrative - This poem is dedicated to all victims of bullying, which include girls & boys of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds. (That includes me too.) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
I jumped on my bike as fast as I could
but not fast enough, it did me no good
the bully kid was big and mean and acted very tough
laughing all the while he quickly knocked me on my duff

Rubbing grass in my mouth, slapping me in the face
him laughing at me, me feeling so disgraced
he punched me so hard then left me crying on the ground
I slowly stood up, was there anyone else around?

I gathered up my books and slowly climbed on my bike
and pedaled straight home mustering all of my might
"What happened to you, son?" Mom was the first to see
I cried as I replied "I got beat by a bully!"

"I'm so sorry for you son, I'm so sad that you were harmed"
just then my dad walked in and immediately looked alarmed
Dad quickly asked me "Son, did you give him back the same?"
I sheepishly said "no" re-experiencing the shame.

My dad just stared awhile then said "I don't like what you're becoming.
Next time you better fight, give the bully what he's got coming!
First you punch him in the stomach then you hit him in the face
He won't hurt you any more, when you put him in his place!"

I slowly nodded as he left, then Mom quickly gave my cheek a kiss
"I'm so proud of you son for not fighting him with your fist
The Lord's servant doesn't need to fight but should be gentle instead"
"Yes ma'am" I quickly said as conflicting counsel twirled round my head

The next 5 years at school when tensions flared I was a gentle talker
as a bully approached my sophomore year I threw him against his locker!

Thank you Mom and Dad!
10/2/2019 - Poetry form:  Couplets - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Ackerrman Sep 26
It takes a very small man
To “Want to punch that girl in the face”,
Or to compare,
A young student to a “Sewer Rat”.

To bully twelve year olds,
Single out young girls,
Transparent fold in time,
Stunted growth.

It takes a small man
To bully children,
It takes a smaller man
To expect respect this way.

“Do yourself a favour
And just shut up”

“Get your head down-
Tick-Tock”

It is like watching a ******
Order 'sewer rats'
To be clean,
Tell the sea to recede.

Your idea of a model student
Is a student who
Already knows
What you are incapable of teaching.
I work in one of the worst school's in the country. Some of the teachers of cowardly, incompetent bullies. But in England, the worst performing schools are given the least amount of funding. In fact, the tiny salary that teachers and support staff are afforded mostly just attracts half-wits who could never earn 20k any other way, I have seen very few members of staff that care about the kids. What is being invested, does not attract professionals, it attracts phonys.
Tompson Sep 7
Life it's a bad joke
Told by people who wants to see
You cut your own throat
And when the curtains close
They all going to laugh
While you choke
Let them be the crowd
The judges
Put me in the death row
I'll get out
With the people who lives below
And one day
I'll be the one who controls the joke
Meadow Aug 27
She speaks.
Content misshapen. Ill-crafted.
She's a little off, but she continues to share.

It begins with shifting eyes,
making sure it's ok to share this feeling of superiority
with this, small snickers escape curled lips
Social Exclusion a form of weeding out those that are of "lesser" value.

I don't want to participate.
I don't want to wear this mask.
It hurts my face, and pulls at my hair.

Wide eyes expressing judgement.
I don't look into them.
I look down.
In a room of "normal people"
they judge her.

I don't want to participate.
I want to listen. To decode her language. Learn the way she speaks.
I want to defend.
I want to rip these masks off these people who will tell you you're perfect then slander you when absent.
I don't want to participate.
I don't understand how THIS is ok in this sensitive world where nothing else is.
First day back at school.
I don't like the way we act with another. High and mighty we think we are, but when we see someone that doesn't belong we're so quick to make fun. Desperately seeking social approval, and inclusion at the expense of others.

Raw thoughts after a long day.
Stephen Moore Aug 23
Dummy turns a plastic cheek,
Ready for a drunk thugs slug of fist on PVC.

Father made dummy boy like some hurried Pinocchio,
But wood was too good,
Too alive,
Too sensing.

Plastic bends and buckles as the brutes words distorts a flexing mind,
Days pass and the dummy child goes to school.

A dummy listens but has no life of its own,
No words, works or wants,
No defence.

School boys laughs at the dummy child,
But the dummy has nothing to return.

Dummy boy leaves school,
Scared, scarred, plastic head stretched like elastic,
Tragic.

A dummy site in a window,
The object of passing eyes and self customised to court attention.
Plastic fool throws himself to the crowd and the whims of those who see his flaws.
I was bullied by my father and only now am I writing to respond
Carl D'Souza Jul 29
Is violence
the intention
and action
to harm other people?

Is the target of violence
joyful and happy?
Ask someone who's been robbed at knifepoint?
Ask a wife who’s being bashed by her husband?
Ask a child who’s being beaten-up by a bully?

Is the doer of violence
joyful and happy?
Ask a person barking toxic speech?
Ask a mother who’s beating her child?
Ask a robber confined in prison for many years?
BoringBoy Jul 25
Never really had a bully bigger and worse than my emotions.
Come as a friend, shift into a demon, pour so much sadness into me
I
Could
Drown...

                Such a scary enemy, my emotions can truly be. Playing tricks on me...am I the kid?
Playing tricks on me.

Thinking thoughts that thwart the trail
Blocking bypaths because bullies behave brashly

All these puzzle pieces sinking my mood quickly uh-oh

Constant circle back to him, causing my fear oh no
No wonder I cower when my emotions bully me.
ALesiach Jul 24
Listen to them very carefully.
Just listen to what they say.
Vile drips from their tongue so readily,
disguised in just the right way.

Now ponder for just a minute,
what do they speak of you?
When the crowd's without you in it,
do they mock you too?

Did you think you could escape,
their two-faced?

ALesiach © 08/04/2017
Joshua Penrod Jun 26
It's not the mere sound of a persons laugh,
Rather it's what or whom they are laughing at
That defines who they are

"The Sound of a Laugh" -JP
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