Posts Tagged ‘poetry about abuse’

For more quotes click here https://thelaststraw.wordpress.com/2007/08/15/quotes-about-domestic-violence/


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strong women fighting back after domestic violence

I am Woman hear me Roar… now get out of My Way!

The following comment and poem about leaving abusive husband was left on 2010/09/02 and was worth sharing with you, the reader wrote:

Dear Rebecca,

I was in an abusive relationship for 3 years and he abused me in all aspects. I found the will the leave him when he attempted to hit me while I was 3 months pregnant with our son. At that moment, I couldn’t leave for myself, but I could leave for my baby and I was gone the next week.

It’s been a difficult journey because I still see this man and speak to him because of the child we share. He has continued to be verbally, emotionally and once even physically abusive to me in front of our son. We go to court at the end of the month and I’m praying the court will see the kind of man he is and will help me in protecting myself and my son. I wrote the following poem depicting my journey and my realization.

I could only be his victim as long as I allowed myself to be and I refuse to be his victim. I hope you all enjoy this poem:

strong women fighting back after domestic violence

I am Woman hear me Roar… now get out of My Way!

-NO MORE- By Ashley P.
A life that has for so long been controlled by manipulation and fear,
So many times left broken and in tears.
Broken bones and bruises followed by promises allowed to heal,
Names and accusations, confusion at the appeal.
Was it really appeal, or just a distorted view?
A victim of the lies, a victim of “I don’t know what to do”.
Attempts to do what’s right, attempts to inspire change,
Feelings of defeat when things remained the same.
A will to be happy, a will to stand fear in the face,
Determination to finally escape this dreadful place.
Emergence out of darkness, finally able to see the light,
Finally the courage to stand up and fight the fight.
No more being afraid, no more running away,
No more looking back and living like yesterday.
No! no more being afraid, not one more excuse,
No longer a victim, but a survivor of abuse.

I have heard from Ashley a few times and will get her other posts here, she is a true inspiration.

Love & Peace,

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I’m known as the house
Filled with love and happiness…
With a loving mom and dad
Children playing, making a mess…
Many loving years went by
Then mom and dad passed away…
The grown kids all married
The house was sold today…
It seemed in a short time
A new family moved in…
Although something about them gave
Me such a bad feeling…
Nothing was like before, when
The arguments started within days…
The threats, the violence daily
No love, I’m so amazed…
My walls absorbed the echoes
Of her nightly frightened screams…
Hate filled every inch of
My house, so it seems…
Her blood permanently stained my
Once beautiful wooden floors…
Then there are the fist-holes
Damaging my once antique doors…
My staircase once so loving
Polished to a beautiful shine…
Blood-soaked from him beating her
When filled with his wine…
My windows would constantly rattle
With the level of his wrath…
I fear I will never
Recover from his violent aftermath…
Now, there is no love
In the terror filled home…
After him killer her than himself
I’m once again all alone…
For years a loving house
Family loved day and night…
But now I’ll be remembered
Only as the crime-scene site…

Poem was printed with permission from the talented author
Angela Hutcherson-Jenkins

she offers many poetry books free to download and hardcopies for sale at  lulu.com/xeson

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Thank you to NightRaven for allowing me to share this poem. If you would like to have a poem posted here add it to comments and make sure to use name to be printed and give me permission in email to use your poem here and in upcoming books and projects.

Sisterhood Of Domestic Violence

We are a sisterhood, a common thread and bond..We’ve come together to share our stories, to overcome the obstacles as one..We are all for the same reason-the violence and pain that we share..We soon grow to learn those we turned to do not really care..We have our scars, our battle wounds, embedded in our soul..The bruises and mental scars all begin to show..We live fear daily of being found..Yet, no one hears our cries nor does anyone give a damn..We’re forced to live our lives behind these invisible bars..No one to hear our cries or to see how deep the scars..We’re forced to go out in the public’s eye each and every day..We know he could be watching and waiting, as we are his prey..We’re just a number and a first name, a face for them to see..No one cares about our pain, our feelings or the individual known as “me”..All we want in life is a place to call our own..
A little corner of the world, something to call home..All of the bureaucrats of today do not understand..If they run my credit or my number it’s a big lead in finding me, for this man..He can find me wherever I may go..I beg for leniency and understanding so the information he cannot know..I have to hide my identity, the true person that I am..For money in is the evil that condemns me to a live that is damned..
No one understands our difficult plight..They can’t tell the darkness from the broad daylight..They live in this bubble of statistics and by the book…They don’t take the time to see that I’m dangling like a fish, on a hook..There are so many sisters that share this trip to hell with me..We vow to each other, that we will not succumb to defeat..We pull together as one vowing to find our dream and make it come true..
As we travel this road that leads us from a world of victim–to a survivor of abuse..
We vow to help others and help keep their dream alive..Never giving up on our dreams to survive..We’re served this sentence of isolation and control..This place where we are robotic and our stories to the public go untold..This prison like setting where we have to beg for the things that we need..Where we are just a number, yet they do nothing to help us succeed..We all come together this sisterhood of hard knocks in life..Keeping our faith in God and prayer to see us through the pain and strife..We all share one common goal when this is all done and through..To share our stories with the public so others will know where to turn to..Domestic violence brought us down to our knees..But together we all stand to bring it to defeat..Our abusers are free and living a life where they can choose..We may be restrained for now, but in the end they will lose..As we stand together, throughout our neighborhood…We are victims of domestic violence and abuse–but we are our own sisterhood..And we shall overcome, for all the world to see..
We will finally live a life and forever be free..

Copyright@2007 NightRaven

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Thank you to NightRaven for allowing me to share this poem.

Isolated  and Controlled

Why do I always stand accused?
Why are you my judge, my jury, my gray skies
That once were blue?
You say you love me with all of your heart..
We took our vows, til death do us part..
Yet, your type of love hurts and tears me apart..
I always spent my days all alone..
No one to talk to, until you came home..
You never wanted me to make friends or go to the mall..
I had to stand by the phone and wait for your calls..
My children you wanted out of my life…
You managed to succeed, never caring about their pain 
And strife..
Your favorite term for me is “I’m lowdown”..
Your tore my world apart–crumbling it to the ground..
Now I’ve left and am trying to start anew..
But deep inside I still love you..
But my heart and my mind know we are through..
You threaten to take your life..
As you no longer have your wife..
Why did you not think about the things that brought
Me to where I am today?
Instead of the isolation and control, always doing as you Say..
I walked on eggshells and lived in fear..
Every day was filled with painful tears..
Now I choose to walk away and let “us” go..
As I can no longer live being isolated and controlled..
 Copyright@2007    NightRaven

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Domestic violence picture of sad little boy - poem from child’s point of view on violence

How Could It Be?

How could it be, we’ve no food to feed the children
How could it be, we’ve no heat to warm their feet
How could it be, you still can’t find employment
How can it be, you’ve a needle in your arm
How could it be, I thought that I once loved you
How could it be, I thought you loved me too
How could it be, I wanted things to change
How can it be, you sold our wedding rings
How could it be, the new baby won’t stop crying
How could it be, the oldest sucks his thumb
How could it be, you don’t come home for days now
How can it be, I always seem to stay
How can it be, I’m talking to this stranger
How can it be, I’m telling everything
How can it be, you said no one would believe me
How can it be, are feet are warm tonight
How can it be, strangers really care
How can it be, the children seem to glow
How can it be, they barely know our names
How can it be, they love us just the same
How can it be, I’m standing on my own
How can it be, the children are growing strong
How can it be, the Lord has stood beside me
How can it be, my heart no longer hurts
How can it be, just seeing is believing
How can it be, to be myself for once
How can it be, I no longer ask that question
For I see, how it can be

If you run a newsletter, blog or anything to create awareness about domestic violence you may use this poem with my permission.

Domestic Abuse Hotline 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE)
TDD 1-800-787-3224
Voice: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) 800-79


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It has been almost 10 years since my husband died and for my son it was as if it was yesterday, the pain is so deep. His sister died late August of this year so it has brought old wounds to the surface. My son was barely six when his father passed. I had debated allowing him to the services and last night was grateful that I had. I would regret it to this day if I had not taken him. I did not attend my first wake until I was sixteen. Now his grandfather on his father’s side died today and we must attend another funeral. He is just 16 and has had to deal with too many deaths for a child.

He has come a long way. It was a very therapeutic night last night. I took out every picture in the house and we went through them for hours. He had said that he does not remember his father’s voice and that he only remembers the bad stuff. His father was a mean man towards me. The aftermath of the abuse affects my son to this day. Back to the pictures. I wanted to show him that there were some happy times; he just could not remember them because he focused too much on the bad events. I told him that I had forgiven his father a long time ago, it was the only way that I could move forward and be grateful for the son that we made and the brother and sister he has from his father’s previous marriage.

I ramble but the point was that the pictures showed many happy events and it felt like a turning point for my son. He seemed so happy that there were pictures at the beach, camping and lots of his father holding him as a child. Granted the photo’s end by the time he is six, but at least there were some. I gave him a photo album and he placed the pictures in it. We looked through it today and for the first time he was able to look at photos of hid dad without crying. He seemed to have changed.

All I pray for is that my son can forgive his father for his own sake. As mean as this man was he was human and was doing all the he knew how too. My husband had been beaten most days by his father. He did not abuse my son; he swore no one would ever harm him.

Forgiveness is key. You hear it all the time and I am proof that it makes a difference in your life. Without my forgiveness to my husband and myself, I would be a very bitter, depressed woman who contributed nothing to the world or to my son.

Forgive yourself; forgive someone you know than thou need to. You do not actually have to tell that person; just knowing it in your heart is what let us the anger go.

Domestic Abuse Hotline 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE)
TDD 1-800-787-3224
Voice: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) 800-799-

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