"competive" poems
**It saddens me when
people use poetry
to talk badly about someone else**
Poetry is suppose to be fun
not a competive sport.
Why can't we
just all support one another
and be suggestive.
We all feel the same things.
We all be through alot;
that's what usually
makes a great poet.
So stop hating on people,
it is uncalled for.
This isn't middle school.
If you have a problem
with someone then
**talk to them about
or block them...**
Yes, hello poetry has a
block button
feel free to use anytime
you have a problem someone
and get on with life.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
What dreaded curse has engulfed us all?
Surrounded by those who need us the most.
Their eyes are hollow and their words are empty,
As they call to their neighbors for a helping hand.
A man who is trapped by the vice of addiction,
Cursed to perish from this horrid affliction.
A pregnant young girl who is eating for two,
Abandoned by love she believed had come true.
They still bear smiles from time to time,
But we put them down for who they have become.
We judge them and scorn them for what they have done.
But we are the ones that did this to them.
Our way of life has destroyed many dreams.
Competive nature in its very seams.
Selfish in nature, no problems equate.
On the words I held back, I will suffocate.
So many times I've reached out a hand,
But changed my own mind in exchange for my pride.
I've held my chin high to ignore those below,
And I have become a part of the norm.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
I have a little brother
A complicated soul a few years below
Stubborn, competive, stone cold
His eyes burn with the intent of ******
Lips twist into an irreversible pout for the smallest of reasons
He scares me
We're both quiet
So I don't know what to say
I've never even asked him "how are you? how's your day?"
Because I would get little to no response
That's where the conversation would end
I've never been one to start them
I fear my own awkwardness
I'm sorry little brother
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
I know the sound of your
body. Sloughing down
into my mattress you
lay. Your tougne catches
with slurred burrs. I have
kept a collection, and tonights
is most definitely worthy.
The words
"I am a bad Mother" echo
down my spine in utter
disgust. I want to hit you.
Your first born is married to
a thieving ****** Your second
works at a pool shop. And I,
just lost a baby. That I didn't
want anyways.
Glaringly, in your mind,
these are mirror images
of your SHAME. Set punctuation
marks on all of your mistakes.
"I am a bad Mother."
Because you can not tell
your friends so proudly
just what we have become.
When they recite the
graduation ceremony
of their children to you,
you mumble down into
yourself with shame. You
have no competive reply.
You lose.
"I am a bad Mother."
I want to throw my
head back and laugh.
You are. Cutting jokes,
brutal rebukes, judging
glares. Crying on our
shoulders because we are not
what you wanted. We are
too shameful and we must
carry that weight.
I assure you, you are perfect.
Tell you we will be okay, just
wait. Fight through your
protests, until you lull off
quietly, frowning in your
sleep. Later, when I lay my head
onto my boyfriends chest,
he says "I love you." When I
doubt him, when I desperately
fight with him to prove it to
me. When I realize I can not love
him as well as he deserves, because
I am too obsessed with self hate.
When I cry hysterically, because
he can not take it anymore.
You ask me
"don't you think you're
taking this a little too far?"
And I know
I will be a bad mother too.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC