sexual assault poems

Hear Me | Krystle - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Hear Me | Krystle

Words, the verbal expressions
Thoughts, inspirations for suggestions
A simple concept
Even for the most inept
However, I continue to struggle
With futility, I snuggle
Mine disappear into the abyss
Nothing is visibly amiss
When I attempt to speak
I feel forlorn and weak
Does anyone care?
Should I not share?
Am I spinning a fictional story?
Do they believe I’m after money?
I’m screaming out
Please don’t doubt
It’s over, but not really
It still haunts me
He gave me a ring
I owe him something
Don’t scream.
It’s a bad dream
I’m drunk
No goes kerplunk
I’m alone
So easily gone
I might return in a day
Maybe in the family way
I attempt to show the thorn
But I’m met with scorn
They often criticize
Tears line my eyes
What were you doing?
What were you wearing?
Such trivial matters
The pig scatters
I’ll answer your inquiries
But Believe ME! Please!
I’m swimming in self hate and confusion
Help Me! Help me find some resolution!

Slave Master | Ndifreke George - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Slave Master | Ndifreke George

He never repeats a word
Yet the deaf must hear,
Cruelty and violence
Are his best attributes.
My face is well-coloured
By his supposed romantic touches
His roaring voice
Scares me out of my rat hole
And I stand to salute
Every whistle and call
Yet when he speaks again, Mr. Dandy,
The same slave remains the succor
The bin he dumps and spills alkaline milk into
More often than pleasantries,
Comes the reply, “Copy that”!
Just because I answer to his name.

Friday Night Binge in the City of London | Rose Mary Boehm - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Friday Night Binge in the City of London | Rose Mary Boehm

His big sweaty palm leaves a mark.
She barely notices his touch.
She’s on her fifth Rum and Coke
Rum to get that tension down,
Coke to keep you standing.
Old-fashioned drink but who
cares and she doesn’t do stuff.

He wishes for a large ungulate
and a shiny armor.
It’s a sweet summer night and the
‘Slug and Lettuce’ is full. He gets
waylaid by shiny things.
It’s so inevitable.

She’s switches to vodka orange.
Her wings feel wooden.
Her laughter sounds shriller.
Her standing becomes erratic.
His kisses taste of brass.
Strange.
She thought he was in equities.
When she slides into fetal position
by the green container
the trombone falls from his hands.
Don’t touch
my soul.

More at http://rosemaryboehm.weebly.com/.

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