All Poems | Global Poetry Movement

Borrowed Moods

Each day I startle awake, my days undefined,
I’m a prisoner to forces beyond my own mind.

Is my mother angry? Is that today’s norm?
Or is she serene? Will she keep me warm?

Did I receive that text? The one I waited for so long?
Or was I again left waiting, maybe my own judgement was wrong.

The skies decide wether I smile or frown,
gloomy clouds weigh heavy, dragging me down.

Sunshine can lift me but only so high,
light does not shine where my sorrows lie.

My most loved grow weary of the sadness they see,
I wish they could understand how tiring it is to be me.

I wish they could know how much it really takes,
to live in this whirlwind of highs and heartaches.

Their patience wears thin but I’m always aware,
I really try to be happy, I do, I swear.

My feelings are so random, I’m playing a losing game,
but I grow tired of myself so who can I blame?

For them, grief is a passing, a brief rain, a light shower,
but for me, it’s a lifetime of suffering- every minute of every hour.

G. K. Dhaliwal in The Experience of Pain

Author Statement

I’ve loved poetry for a long time before I attempted writing it. I use it as a form of therapy. Whenever I can’t express my feelings through words, music, or sitting with it- I write. It forces me to think about my emotions and process them as I’m working on something. By the time I’m done writing a poem, I’ve let out all my feelings and felt them out as I form sentences that flow together. Not to mention I’m left with something I created and something I’m happy with. After I wrote this poem I let out a sigh of relief. It felt good to once again release my thoughts on paper.

Poison

Come join me,
In the dark.
I’ll make room for you,
Wake up your body,
Open your heart.
I’ll swallow your pain,
The poison I deserve.
It can’t kill me,
I am already dead.

S. Kohlman in The Voice for Others

Author Statement

It can be a struggle to have healthy relationships after CSA. At the time I was feeling responsible for the difficulties and felt hopeless and alone in the darkness.

Tired

I’m tired.
Leave me by the hospital doors,
No looking back.
Avoid my eyes,
Don’t hear my pain.

No more need to measure my worth with your measuring cups.
Give back my love before you go,
Should I try to build it again.

I’m tired,
My Dragon Lady, burning it all down.
Nowhere to anchor
So much haze

She’s so small,
She doesn’t know where to go, what to do.
Wishes she didn’t survive
This life not worth living

She can’t feel with half a heart,
Or navigate your rules.
Don’t take the chance,
She’s not safe for you.

Cover her eyes
Shut her mouth
Plug your ears
She can’t run with numb legs
Her cries won’t stop
Leave it all at the hospital doors

Save yourself
Wash your hands
Take your broken heart.

S. Kohlman in The Voice for Others

Author Statement

Navigating adult love relationships as a survivor is tricky when we don’t have the tools or understanding. Our behaviors can be hurtful to our families when we are fiercely protecting our little ones from feeling in unhelpful ways that are no longer serving us. I wrote this during a dark place where I didn’t have the skills to navigate my relationship in a healthy way.

Legacy of Healing

I was the quiet child with eyes cast down,
hid in the shadows, shrinking small,
while we wore the guise of a family crowned,
and smiled for the world, dressed up and all,
our “perfect life” a brittle wall.

In our home, storms would break and swell—
a father’s voice, a crashing wave,
a mother bending to catch and quell
the pieces left for her to save,
while praying for strength, though none she gave.

We fled our land for a brighter shore,
dreamed of peace and kinder years,
but found old wounds turned raw once more,
as hope gave way to hidden tears—
and no one guessed our smiles hid fears.

A lonely child with secrets kept,
I clutched my silence like a prize,
and walked the path where sorrow slept,
until the past began to rise
and brought me back with sharper eyes.

Now as a mother, I face the night,
where buried memories stir and ache,
and hold my children close and tight,
to guard the love I’ll never break—
their tender hearts, no harm shall take.

Each day, I learn to heal the seams,
to weave new warmth from threads of pain,
unlearning shadows and shattered dreams,
so love may bloom without the stain
of anger’s curse, of bruised refrain.

This journey now is one of grace,
of mending wounds I thought would stay,
for healing is the light I trace,
reclaiming joy along the way—
and finding peace where scars once lay.

Rosalia Rivera in Personal Transformation

Author Statement

Writing this helped me witness my own journey from pain and fear to taking back my power and healing…

Reclaim The Night

"I can't sleep for forty years
Because my dad used to come at nights
I wouldn't raise my voice to not to wake up those at home.
I presumed that my secret was darkened by night.
Until yesterday...
Unaware that people at home knew what I'd been going through.
Unaware that everyone in the world knew what I'd been going through.
I'm shouting now.
And again, no one hears me
The night darkens my secret
I want to sleep before I die."

meliha yıldız in The Power of Connection

Author Statement

I wrote this poem for British activist Viv Gordon to read at the Reclaim The Night protest on the night of our “Restless” march.

A Crack Appeared

A Crack Appears

I am all armoured up

Keeping in check, taking my stance
defenses in place, doing my dance
I am all armoured up

Facing forward, controlling the chills
sensitivities heightened, sharpening my skills
I am all armoured up

As the cries get louder, the bars grow taller
deafening shrills, sharpening my skills
I am all armoured up

Breaking free, merely a dream
on high alert, my insides scream
Covering my tracks, polishing my rackets
the boxes stay shut, covering my casket
I am all armoured up

Never giving up,
today is the day the crack appears

MG in The Voice for Others

Author Statement

the words just flowed as I felt familiar old feelings emerging
and after the crack appeared, the pain and sorrow from my youth came
flooding out . ON the path to healing this

Me Not Me

I was my father’s mistress growing up.
It brought my mother great relief.
Taking the pressure off of her.
It made my sister jealous.
I was daddy’s favourite.

Entirely justified in his mind.
An outlet for the outlet.
When my mother’s needs boiled over.
His relief deemed necessary.

I became a mistress to all.
Temporary relief. Eternal grief.
Pressure to both disappear and perform.
Every man’s favourite.

For my worth was written very young.
My purpose well defined.
Serve. Please. Relieve.
An invisible slave.

Today I am no one’s mistress.
It brings me great relief.
I see through. I see you.
Forever familiar. No longer preferred.
The pressure on me is not mine and all mine.
All mine to let go.
I am my own favourite.

The past does echo. No longer fate.
I’m more than the burdens of hate.
Chains unraveled. Shatterings whole.
With every breath, I claim my name.

Heidi P in Personal Transformation

Only You Know You

Original—Poem #11
2024

Rediscovering your inner child is supposed to feel like a breakthrough
For me, it feels like a breakup

I don’t think my inner child wants to speak to me
She thinks I don’t like her, wanting to remain apart

But I want her to know how much I love her
How much I have yet to learn from her

She’s so strong and courageous
She’s the reason I am where I am today
She protected me in ways unimaginable

Though she feels worthless, like a piece of garbage
I want to take away those feelings from her and show her what she truly is
Worth more and a piece of divine love

Little one, please give me a second chance
Don’t break up with me again

I can't afford to keep losing you at the cost of my suppressions
I am ready for us to journey into joy and wisdom

We can recover in peace and love
I know it’s scary but it’s not yours to carry

I will take care of the pain
I want you to enjoy your lovely life

You’ve always deserved it and I’m sorry you never got to enjoy any of it
But I’m here to take away your burdens that were never yours to carry
And lay down happy, fun, creativity for they were always yours to carry

I was a mistake...
No little one, you were never a mistake

You are my treasure
My abundance of joy

You’re the reason I get up every day
I live for you, in hopes that you can live for you

Give me another chance
I’ll think about it...

That’s okay little one, think about it and even if it’s a no
I will accept your beautiful wishes
For you deserve to be respected and valued

You are human and a child of God
When and if you’re ready, just know I will be here, ready to turn your tears into joy

Love you little one

—the end

s.renita in The Experience of Pain

Duplex III: Be Quiet

Be quiet; the voice doesn’t belong here,
Only the body turned into piñata.

Your body made into a piñata.
Boys swing their sticks, breaking things not theirs.

Boys hit you with their sticks, breaking things not theirs.
Innocence falls, swallowed up by night.

Fallen innocence, swallowed by night.
Candy wrappers are clothes, no room for names.

Candy wrappers for clothes. Who cares about names?
Boys gnaw on silent sugary screams.

Boys’ teeth dig into sugary screams.
Confectionery prey, looking for sound.

Confectionery, pray, can’t find sound,
Only the body turned into piñata.

C. Alexandria-Bernard Thomas in The Voice for Others

Author Statement

As an advocate and survivor of child sexual assault and sexual assault, I use poetry as a powerful tool for healing and raising awareness. My words speak for those who have been silenced and made to believe that their pain was their fault. Through my art, I aim to break the cycle of shame and empower survivors to reclaim their voices and bodies.