"volunteered" poems
I am Katniss Everdeen.
I volunteered for my sister in The Hunger Games.
I survived, so did Peeta.
I know the Capitol hates me.
I am a rebel.
I love Peeta.
I wonder if he is alive.
I am the mockingjay, symbol of all rebels.
I killed President Coin because she killed Prim.
I live in District 12 now.
I have 2 kids.
I watch them play in the meadow, the unknown graveyard.
I am Katniss Everdeen.
written by maegan cattermull
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 7:51 PM UTC
I’m sorry
This is overdue
I’m sorry
I did that to you
I’m sorry
We stayed together after I told you
I’m sorry
That note was ever needed to be wrote
I’m sorry
It was because of me
I’m sorry
The gun didn’t have bullets
I’m sorry
The window in ur room wasn’t high enough
I’m sorry
There wasnt A rope
I’m sorry
That note was left for me to find
I’m sorry
It didn’t work
Im sorry
You felt obligated to get me back
I’m sorry
My best friend volunteered
I’m sorry
You did it more times to hurt me
I’m sorry
I pushed you to putting the bruises on ur heart into my wrist
I’m sorry
I embarrassed you
I’m sorry
You made me look down the fall before I jumped
I’m sorry
I didn’t do it cause of you
I’m sorry
I wish I still could
I’m sorry
It’s been two years and my life is still all cause of you
I’m sorry
All of this is my fault
I’m sorry.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
Do I take you with me on this adventure I have been planning all my life?
On my journey I have dreamt of in math classes, late nights in bed,
and on lazy Sunday afternoons in the sun?
My plans for my adventure have never been static and have constantly changed over my few young years...
In my mind I have gone to Art school in Paris and backpacking through Morrocco and teaching in Costa Rica and done the Inca trail in Peru and spent time at a Kibbutz in Israel and volunteered in India and sailed all the Seven Seas...
Now as I stand on the presipice of my Epic Journey,
not afraid, but invigorated, I have a choice;
I can go alone; strong, fearless, ready to embrace the wolrd with arms wide open, wings spread and nothing and no one to hold me back from my dreams...
Or I can take you with me, share my adventure with you, and start a new journey that includes you?
We could make a path, you and I, through the world, where ever we choose to go, make our own adventure, new dicoveries... and have a very long journey together, and instead of worrying about old plans, make new memories.
Would you like to come with me on my adventure, my love?
Will you start a journey with me?
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
For years they'd tried and failed
in their conjunctions to conceive.
The wife prone to miscarriages
so a surrogate was decreed.
Her closest friend from college
took pity on their plight,
and volunteered to help them
by bringing forth their child to life.
It would be their bun, her oven.
Their tenant in her rented womb.
The pregnancy was uneventful
and their son was born last June.
It's a miracle of science.
to some couples it's a boon.
but the procedure is expensive
so don't expect a baby boom
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
"Who's willing to be the traitor?"
Nobody volunteered but me
I love Jesus and the humanity
If I don't do it, the cross wouldn't happen
"Who wants the suicide role?"
Again, nobody volunteered but me
I have to set a bad example for everyone to see
I have to eternally burn in hell for everyone to glorify heaven
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
~for better days for the poet betterdays~
mournful tunes play silently, but still too often,
eyes wet but in corners kept, recurring then the
memories, keepsakes, letters, books, small trinkets,
not dusty, but dusky, resting on in-between ledge of a
mountain-sized twilight of well lit shadowy haziness,
edgy dark brilliance, a comprehensible contrast non-comprehendible
tunes that bless with equal measures of grief,
comforting, by memorable card flashes of good relief,
a dividing line, hazy and frequented crossed, a sort of path,
with no destination signaled, as if the path itself was an end,
to a meaning, a solution, with no clarity divined, a division
of sight and insight, providing an ill fitting reconciliation
mourning is electric, morning is electric,
letters, words bottled up in evaporating perfume bottles,
seeking the comfort of dissipation unto a larger atmosphere,
the scent in everything tangible, stronger still yet, in intangibles
that can erode but never ever fail to return instantly when voked,
by vision, odor, a particular child’s smile, line in a poem volunteered
recovered, uncovered, a post first writ to be written, discovered,
when time and place coincidentally breathe together, at last,
beckoning you to places where memory serves only as a pleasuring,
upright mind marker, decorated in chains perpetual reforging,
absent pain, gleaming dreamings full-replacing longings for pasts,
new verses composed, passing, a grand addition to a child’s legacy
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 8:50 AM UTC
Though the belief is still there
the faith has long since run out
having volunteered my heart
I can no longer bleed
I pray for change
though my mind knows better
is this your will?
or the cruel wind of fate?
won't thy heart soften?
metamorphosis complete
so that our paths may cross
intertwining and increasing
perhaps, but perhaps not
my belief shall not die, nor my faith falter
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
Mr. Rory Richards
Lived his life,
Taking garbage
Out at night.
He shovelled drives
He swept walks,
He listened intently
While others talked.
Others talked.
When Rory wasn't
Weeding the garden,
He was outside
Hanging laundry.
Moms were jealous,
Dads were shamed,
But whispering neighbours
Never complained.
Rory's good
At the husband game.
He presented well.
The neighbours continued
To tsk and tsk.
On his way home
From work,
He picked up the kids
From daycare,
He'd find time
To volunteer there.
He'd have treats
At home for them,
And their friends.
He volunteered with
Cubs and Scouts,
Always finding
Extra time
For jamborees
And overnights.
One day the cops
Came on the scene,
Rory wasn't
What he seemed:
His computer
Showed a different man,
A lurking, luring
Child **** fan.
And the neighbours'
Tsks cresendoed.
At his trial
He sat abandoned,
But neighbours there
Gave witness to
A man they thought
They surely knew.
A family man
In his pew.
All his life
He lived beside them,
A man they let
Their kids rely on.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
He lost his arm
By a cooked bomb
His world lit up like firecrackers
He was engulfed in fire and metal shards
Then his body went numb
So he was stitched up
And sent back home
There was a new brand of limbs
So he volunteered to be experimented on
For a prosthetic arm
As he went through new trials during the day
He suffered at night
He had night terrors about where he was evacuated from
Seeing himself holding a ticking time bomb
While bullets whisked past above
The bomb sunk into his hand like a solider in the slums
And as the time ticked one
His arm turned to glass and exploded
The shards from his arm imbedded themselves in his skin
This was his dreamed
He beg to be fixed
But even though they could give him a new arm
They couldn't fixed what he saw when he closed his eyes
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Crawled my way and became a teen
My childhood disappeared
From puberty to adulthood
Damn....Rebellious days disappeared
Chasing dreams and following career - the fun disappeared!
Volunteered and got married,
And "SHE" disappeared
Walked into a threshold of a new beginning
My past disappeared!!
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
we were in love,
but i didn't realize that you were
such a good liar and that i was so gullible.
i didn't realize that heartbreak and love
go hand in hand and that a boy like
you will always break my heart
the same way you broke that window
with your baseball in third grade.
I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT YOU LIKE
GIRLS WHO DON'T TRY SO HARD TO
BE PERFECT
AND I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT YOU
NEVER REALLY LOVED ME EITHER
BECAUSE I WANTED SOMEONE TO LOVE
ME BEFORE I DIED AND YOU
VOLUNTEERED WILLINGLY
BUT IT WAS ALL A JOKE AND
I WAS THE PUNCHLINE.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
FROM his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing;
But he opened out the hinges,
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,
Till it looked all squares and oblongs,
Like a complicated figure
In the Second Book of Euclid.
This he perched upon a tripod -
Crouched beneath its dusky cover -
Stretched his hand, enforcing silence -
Said "Be motionless, I beg you!"
Mystic, awful was the process.
All the family in order
Sat before him for their pictures:
Each in turn, as he was taken,
Volunteered his own suggestions,
His ingenious suggestions.
1.8k
Softly...
even here
the winds of change...
breeze through.
Destiny...
and history...
are turning...
Cogs in place.
*Hell...it actually feels like
... 1968!*
The Hippies
have all grow old
and are now
the voting majority.
Think about it...
They're rolling a doobie...
and affecting real change...
one organic, patchouli soaked
volunteered,
re-purposing project
after another.
The "big picture"
is simply a poster...
cut into small bite sized
puzzle pieces...
we are all skirting the edge...
still unconnected.
It is the age of...
focusing, clearly...
on purpose
and integrity.
The storm is clearing...
and insight,
has an electrical charge...
zapping us all
into action
into submission
into our future...
The message
thunders clearly...
and resonates succinctly
and justly...
Calling for us all
to...Do...
"What you CAN DO...
purposefully for-going...
whatever it is,
that you CAN"T DO"
"I AM"
becomes...
We are...
Maternal society yearns...deeply
waiting for it's turn
not asking permission...
Just doing the next right thing...
and taking the steps
necessary...
To be seen...
far past equal...
On the edges
of unnoticed
Dropping labels
and be recognized
for what I bring to
the table...
not whom.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
Please say something, you implore
wearing a halo of uranium based fallout
lift the silence wrapped around your ghosts
hurt me
hate me
hit me with it.
Silence never volunteered itself as a barricade
it slipped its way into gaps left
by broken plates
broken bones
broken homes.
You are not the first to implore me
nor the first to disappoint me
but mutually assured destruction is a two way street
and I can't reverse the nuclear winter in my bones
just to appease the guilt you feel
for bombing everything we had.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Grimly smiling
At this leg of the race how'd you think I got it made
Done had me some power but never got paid
I volunteered my hours while being mentally slayed
Brain slashed so I lashed out by never sleeping though life always layed me out
Knocked down, ears ringing
Is this my calling?
To stand up taller, am I meant to be a crawler?
I'm not a zombie, I'm just hurt
That you'd think I can't escape the fate set on me, I don't live in hell but I feel burnt
I don't watch burnt movies on the disc though, wouldn't fit in at the disco
I stream em online, I want to get fit but I'm too busy waiting for the video to load
Then the **** thing lags, maybe it's a sign
To use my legs and get buffer
But I didn't brace myself to be cast in this role
Done capped my knees durability and out came my knee cap
Then people finally noticed that I was hurt, but it wasn't my limb they should've been concerned about
But I'm not here to pout, hell I'm getting help
I'm just here to say
When you're ready to give up
Life hits you even harder
To remind you that you're tougher than any doubt you've ever had
You can handle more than even a hurt body, brain, or mind
You ain't dead till you die
You ain't high till you fly
You ain't ahead until you try
It's a lot like rugby, even when the magic rug be out of reach
You can still be a-lad-in joy
There's something about dodging and taking hits that's enthralling
Chaos is beauty
If you don't just let it be but let yourself succeed
A little sweat and blood to get the lead
In the rain wet and loud, passions what I bleed
And obstacles are what my slightly enlarged heart pumps, what it beats
But sometimes I'm choking on led
My lungs are the weapon that gave me a shot, and onlookers say "You're rhymes have no pattern B, so the way you write things is awk, see?
How's this for an ox-c *****
I'm suffocating on oxygen
Asthma attack at nine months old didn't stop me, a close call they said
But more like a call received
Because looking back now I know my purpose
Is to breathe
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Abdul and the pirates
Often used to boast
How they had impunity
Along the Somalian coast
Taking ships whenever
The opportunity appeared
Holding them for ransom
So the ***** could be shared
Then the Maersk Alabama
Came into the sight
Of Abdul and the pirates
Quite to their delight
So they came aboard
Making their demands
But the unarmed Maersk crew
Took it from their hands
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
So they took the captain
Who had volunteered
To become their hostage
As towards home they steered
Hoping they could reach
The Somalian shore
Where they would be successful
In demanding much much more
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
A team of Navy snipers
Were quietly on the case
Looking for a target
When the order was in place
Abdul and the Pirates
Unwillingly complied
And that perhaps explains
Why it is they died
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
So they took the captain
Who had volunteered
To become their hostage
As towards home they steered
Hoping they could reach
The Somalian shore
Where they would be successful
In demanding much much more
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Evenually who would fall
Abdul and the Pirate
Aren’t around to boast
How they had impunity
Along the Somalian coast
Quite unfortunately for them
They’ve become burnt toast
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Does anything ever mute
The sound of dying men’s screams
Who volunteered to defend
The righteous demands of greedy dreams?
The clouds roll quietly in
And who can tell if it is mist or smoke?
So, this pile of dead humans;
Are they enemies or a sick man’s joke?
Did they know what they were
When they piled into the planes and cars?
Did they have any idea why
They were ordered to march and fly so far?
Were they told they were fighting
For one thing when it was really another?
Were the coerced into uniform
By neighbors, teachers, fathers and mothers?
And when smoke clears each time
Do those that came after them to battle
Find some still lie there dying
So they can listen to the death rattle
Of one more brother or sister
Dying in the mud on their back
From a war that was started
When their nation was never attacked?
Glory and pride are words
That can be used to cover over lies
Like bandages over wounds.
But they don’t mute the mortal cries
Of those who died feeling tricked
About not defending freedom
But for money for the hand-picked.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
.*oh i've seen the face of horror, on the face of strangers i've encountered in the middle of the night, governing the scenario with a puritanical good will... no... the look on their faces is hardly bemused... people face the mask they're about to wear, that of παρηγοριά (Parigoria - **** along with Skia... that's two demigods in one afternoon's worth of sitting), unorthodox parrot demigods, **** no, i've seen their faces, when i volunteered to steer a van through a speed barrier, just up the road... whoever jumped out of the car to counter my initial claim: to help... photographic memory... he looked like he was about to **** himself... i've seen the face of fear, but not an indicative fear, of per se... more... a confused, fear... the huh? approach... i never thought in a million years that goodness, selflessness could be so terrorizing; guess there's always a place and time, to be proven wrong.*
and when the ape became
man, where did it look?
it domesticated tigers,
shrunk them into cats...
and figured:
**** it... let's have a mentality
of a lion...
after all...
the females of the species
do all the hunting,
the males are nothing more
than a ***** bank...
whenever useful...
although:
i'm pretty sure...
that the construction
industry will not be infiltrated,
quiet as much,
or not at all,
as the army has been...
**** what a sexist
environment... no women
carrying bricks,
or buckets of hot roofing tar...
WE SHOULD DO
SOMETHING ABOUT IT!
sense the ridicule?
i hope you do...
because i'm far from,
giving into the giggles.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
on belatedly hearing of an old friend's death
A simple 18-year-old
Pennsylvania kid.
He volunteered
to lead a patrol
down a heavily
mined road.
Gifts were exchanged.
He gave them
half a left leg
and a whole
right foot.
They gave him a
shining silver star
in a beribboned box.
A few moments
of congratulations
before whiskey, drugs
and homelessness ensued.
The hero's life.
Now he is dead,
the medal long pawned.
Life can be merciless
even for the brave.
No part of this story
means anything.
~mce
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
Not many would better understand than me the meaning of first hand serving experience.
I volunteered and used to teach in a group called 'Swapan' (run by the social service group Nishqam of CITM Faridabad, now known as MRIU) which undertook imparting laborers' kids free education.
I don't believe in donating because I don't earn yet, but I volunteer whenever I am able to go out to their world. I just wait for the right time I get to be in contact with such people.
What I did in Swapan program was more than just teaching; we used to take care of their health by getting them periodic vaccination, by having them attend a regular school near our college, getting their fees deposited, organizing events for mustering funds for the same and many more.
But at the end of my 2nd year I met a serious accident, just prior to my 4th semester B.Tech-Biotech exams which pushed me into a 23 day coma; I was close to death. But I didn't lose my spirit even after I came back to my senses.
As the path of destiny had it, CITM became MRIU which didn't continue with the MDU degree I'm currently enrolled into. So I was made to shift colleges and go to Rohtak for college since then and there was no such opportunity anywhere in close proximity.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
Its hardly a secret.
I have done more for others
Than has ever been done for me.
While I volunteered to do your deeds,
You sat back in wait,
Offering shallow 'thank you's
When I returned.
A job well done, I guess.
You complain about
A harsh life,
Filled with trouble,
Filled with strife,
While sitting still
Fully tended by me.
Never do you hear me
Moan or whine.
My poems have
That light to shine.
I need not say a word.
My smiles are all fake,
Caused by the trickery
Of these miserable women.
They give me momentary appreciation
For a lifetime of service...
But I am too loyal to ever say no.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 12:50 PM UTC
Yes, it was a hot day for a black wedding,
I swapped my life for a golden ring,
I did not check those sinister omens,
As I volunteered to change my cognomen,
All our families, garbed in black,
Once hitched, there was no turning back,
A fateful dark matrimonial,
Indeed, a disastrous ceremonial.
'Twas already a dim bleak wedlock,
Nuptials in black was a shock,
So much for my late spouse,
Yelling at me to clean his house,
Is biology destiny? I used to ask,
Is housework only a woman's task?
Once, I swapped my soul for a golden ring,
Yes, it was a hot day for black wedding.
(Tough!).
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
A terminally ill 5-year-old was given a dream day — an amazing birthday, prom and a wedding all in one.
Lila May Schow has spent most of her life in the hospital or at the doctor’s office. She has a rare childhood cancer, neuroblastoma, and doctors have not been able to successfully treat the disease.
Lila has stopped receiving chemotherapy treatments. Doctors told the family treatment is no longer an option because her body is not strong enough.
Sadly, she is not expected to live past Thanksgiving.
Lila’s parents, assuming it could be her last birthday, decided to make the day extra special. With the help of local businesses and volunteers, everyone gathered on July for the huge party.
“We don’t know how much time we have left,” Lila’s dad Ryan Schow tells KATU, “and we have put up one hell of a fight. We just want to give her everything she deserves.”
The family started a Facebook groupto ask for help. A local bank donated the use of their building, a DJ offered his services, women dressed as Disney characters volunteered to appear and bakers donated cakes. Over 1,000 people attended the huge bash.
Lila, dressed as her favorite princess Cinderella, attended her birthday/prom/wedding. The sweetest moment of the day was when Lila’s dad proposed and married his daughter.
“We wouldn’t have gotten this far and been able to fight this hard without all the help we’ve been given. We’re so very grateful for that. It’s all about making a little girl smile,” Lila’s dad, Ryan Schow, tells KATU. “It’s all about making a little girl smile.”
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
*You slap my hand and then we’re soulmates,
With “i love you” on a screen
And a hammer on a string.
It’s a secret mission,
A written-out scene.
It’s an undisclosed location,
And we’re shrouded in smoke, and
3am mist, and
Each other’s giddy company.
It’s fire in your eyes, and
It’s blood in my mouth, but
I volunteered to be your victim.
So I smile at Temptation,
And Danger licks her lips.*
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 4:16 AM UTC