A Poem About Bullying - Written by a Child

This is a poem written by my son. He wrote it at school, just a few months ago when he was 10. The children had been involved in a classroom discussion about bullying, after which their task was to write a poem on the subject. It must be said that my son is not usually a fan of writing, especially poetry. He considers writing a chore; something to get out of the way as quickly as possible. Sometimes, however, I find myself surprisingly impressed by pieces of his work.

This is one such piece. His teacher must have thought the same, as it was selected from all the other children's poems about bullying to be read out in assembly. My son didn't really want to do this at first - he doesn't much like speaking in front of an audience. However, afterwards he felt proud.

Bullying is a very important subject, of course. Although schools have procedures in place to deal with bullying, it still does go on in schools, and can make the life of the victim miserable. School should be a happy place, where children can feel safe, secure and positive. From my own personal experience, I feel bullying is better dealt with than it was during my own school days. However, even bullying on a minor level can leave a child feeling isolated, leading to loss of confidence and low self-esteem.

When my son wrote this poem, he wrote it as an acrostic. Actually, it is not really an acrostic - on the last but one line he forgot that 'knees' started with a 'k' and instead wrote 'nees'. Apart from that small mistake, it is, or would have been. This wasn't a required element; rather, it was just the way the poem turned out. I think it is simplistic but insightful. He is not a boy whose life has so far been adversely affected by bullying, but none-the-less, it shows us the world through the eyes of a victim.

I think you can tell the poem is written by a child as you read it. It has an innocent and simple feel about it. But a poem about a child being bullied is better off being written by someone young. It rings true, and that is why I believe it deserves to be published here.


POEM FOR BULLYING

Bullying is a bad stain on a clean shirt.

Unlike loving or caring, it is hating and horrible,

Like getting punched so hard you are hammered into the wall.

Like pain but worse.

You are in your own world of being upset and hurt.

Inside, the bully is a ball of anger being kicked at you,

Knees trembling, waiting for another day of misery.

Goodbye pain, you have told an adult and things are better.

(written by a 10 year old student)

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Comments 19 comments

Hello, hello, profile image

Hello, hello, 5 years ago from London, UK

Very well written and I am glad you post it on HP. Thank you.


Polly C profile image

Polly C 5 years ago from UK Author

Thank you, Hello, hello :)


Cresentmoon2007 profile image

Cresentmoon2007 5 years ago from Caledonia, MI

Thank you for sharing with us. Bullying is such a horrific thing and hits people so hard. No matter what age but especially children.


Polly C profile image

Polly C 5 years ago from UK Author

Hi Cresentmoon, yes bullying really is horrible, and a lot of kids probably don't even realise or take on board the damage they can cause by alienating a classmate. The important thing is to bring it out in the open. Thank you for reading and commenting :)


Tayla G 5 years ago

This poem is amazing and yes bullying is horrible.


Polly C profile image

Polly C 5 years ago from UK Author

Hi Tayla, thank you for reading and for your comment - bullying can ruin the whole school experience of a child if nothing is done about it.


jesusmyjoy profile image

jesusmyjoy 5 years ago from Bucyrus Ohio

just wonderful


Polly C profile image

Polly C 5 years ago from UK Author

Hi jesusmyjoy, thank you and thanks for reading :)


fastfreta profile image

fastfreta 5 years ago from Southern California

Polly that was awesome, please tell your son to continue to write. Even though he doesn't care much for it he has a knack for it. If he not journaling, (we use to call it a diary), he should start, because his deep emotions should forever be captured. Again very good Polly, and please tell your son so. Voted up, awesome, beautiful!


Polly C profile image

Polly C 5 years ago from UK Author

Hi fastfreta, thank you so much for reading and leaving such a great comment, I will tell him and I am sure he will be very happy. Actually, he does not yet know his poem is published but, as someone else pointed out, he should be really proud that so many people are reading it. At this moment in time it is one of my most viewed hubs! As I said, he doesn't much like writing and sees it as a bit of a chore, but he has written some very descriptive horror as well - his favourite author is Darren Shan. Anyway, be sure your compliments will be passed on, and thank you once again for reading his work :)


jhgitt 4 years ago

jfruhrguhgt ytruy rtrt

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ytnuguthghguygg the st


the bst one ever 4 years ago

the best one ever


Michael Mallows 4 years ago

Polly,

Your son's poem shows great insight and suggests both empathy and compassion. It also, to me, strongly suggests that he speaking from experience!

That he wrote is as an acrostic also demonstrates a creative mind and an ability to 'play' with language.

I found the poem whilst searching for a poem written by a child that I could include in a lecture on bullying that I'm presenting at a conference in the autumn.

If it is OK with you, would your son give me permission to use his excellent poem?

-----------------------------------------

The following poem also relates to bullying, although somewhat obliquely, and I read it out to parents and professionals who attend my workshops for adoptive parents and foster carers.

The Casual Cruelty of Positive Intent

For every time we raise our voices,

Insisting that you have no choices

For every unkind thought or word

When you're just asking to be heard;

For every unheard, silent scream

That underpins low self-esteem,

Each time we call you dumb or slow,

We think that that will help you grow.

The snide remarks that just slip out,

To fuel and reinforce self doubt.

Each puerile joke at your expense

Suggesting lack of common sense,

Each time we mock your futile struggle

And laugh out loud or simply chuckle,

And say, "How thick, and oh, so slow!"

Because we want to help you grow.

Each well-aimed poisoned arrow

To keep you on the straight and narrow;

Each barbed and bitchy, witty dart

To pierce and break your yearning heart.

Each look of meanness, every frown,

To close you off and put you down

Each looming shadow that we throw,

We really think will help you grow.

And if you hear our callous laugh

As you stumble on your path,

Whatever pain it stirs in you,

We hope that something will get through.

We'll call you weird and make you yelp,

And we hope that you will know

We're doing all we can to help.

We cut you down to help you grow!

And when we nag or curse and cuss,

So you'll play less and do your chores,

Reduce the noise and stop the fuss,

Stay on track, complete the course.

Look and listen, let us show

How hard we try to help you grow.

In a cold and lonely cell-like room

We'll leave you frightened and entombed

And when your beating heart is calm,

You'll realise we mean no harm.

You see, we have a master plan,

Although you may not understand.

And, yes, the hours drag too slow,

But --- time will pass, and you will grow

For every dusty dream that shatters

Because we just don't think it matters,

When all your hopes and aspirations

Have been dismissed with irritation,

We think it kind; you think us foe!

We must insist we did not know!

We can't stoop down to say we're sorry,

Admitting doubt, concern or worry.

Or allow these things we mention

To over-shadow good intentions.

You ask for 'Yes', we'll answer 'No!'

In our attempt to help you grow!

And if you feel hemmed in or trapped,

Sit down, fit in and shut your trap.

If, time to time, you can't get through,

Think, feel and function like we do!

Don't make waves or cause commotion,

Or ever show the deep emotion, Why?

Just because we told you so,

That's all you need to help you grow!

You see, our parents loved us too,

Did all they could to help us through,

Now, it's our duty; it's our turn,

We learned that hurting helps you learn!

And, because we're older, and we're wise

We're going to cut you down to size.

We were treated in this way,

Which did no harm (or so we say!)

It didn't hurt us, not one bit,

Although, at times, we feel like shit,

And if we've little self-esteem,

Still, we can blame you when we scream.

And, later, you'll be glad we did.

When you find you treat your kids

In just the way we treated you,

We'll know our words and deeds got through.

And you will thank us, looking back,

When you, in turn, snip, snipe and smack

And you will know the way to go,

To help your little monsters grow!

You'll never ask, they'll never say,

They will succumb. Submit! Obey!

They'll feel ashamed of all their pain

And learn to play these painful Games

They'll weep in shadows, hide their light

Then, then we'll know we got it right!

http://www.craftylistening.co.uk/146.html


Polly C profile image

Polly C 4 years ago from UK Author

Hi Michael, thank you for your wonderful comments regarding my son's poem, they are much appreciated. Yes, we are very happy for you to use the poem for your conference, it is a huge compliment indeed.

Regards, Polly


emin 4 years ago

super helped on my work thanks


Polly C profile image

Polly C 4 years ago from UK Author

You are welcome, emin, glad it helped you.


imthebean profile image

imthebean 3 years ago from Georgia

Very heartwarming to see that a young child can write poems like this one. He is a very smart boy. Loved this.


Polly C profile image

Polly C 3 years ago from UK Author

@imthebean - thank you so much, I'm so glad you loved it. I'm really proud of him for writing this poem - writing of any description isn't really his favourite thing to do, but I think he has moments that sparkle. Many thanks for stopping by :)


middle name ashanti 20 months ago

i really loved this poem.

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